Page 21 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

“Of course not. It’s Lucas Murray. I had Eddie pick a more suitable place. We’re at Ocean Prime.”

And yes, I can see exactly how it happened. Ocean Prime is an upscale, very well-known restaurant specializing in steak and seafood, the latter of which Lucas is allergic to. Usually, he avoids shellfish-heavy restaurants. But if there was contamination, or if Lucas didn’t realize how much shellfish he’d be surrounded by? I can see how he’d have a drink, and then another, to try to relax himself.

It had happened the only other time I’d seen Lucas drunk. He hadn’t wanted to tell people he was uncomfortable about the sheer amount of shellfish, so he’d ordered a whiskey, because it had been his dad’s drink of choice.

And then another.

I could push on Abe to do the right thing. I could text one of the lab mates who’s probably right there. I could call Levi, who goes to USC, and hand Lucas over to one of his younger brothers.

And yet⁠—

I look at Google Maps. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Though I expected to find one designated grad student who’d been tasked with babysitting Lucas until I arrived, when I pull up in my Uber, Lucas is surrounded by every single undergrad, grad, and postdoc who’d been invited. Even as I internally grumble (because surely one of them could have taken Lucas home?), it says something about how much status Lucas has accrued these past years that even drunk and loopy, everyone wants to network with the hedge fund wunderkind.

“Finally.” As usual, Abe greets me with disdain and disappointment.

“Red!” Lucas pushes his way past two of the people who have their phones out, likely trying to exchange contact information. He comes toward me with a goofy grin and his arms stretched wide.

I don’t have to let it happen. Drunk Lucas is neither fast nor steady on his feet, meaning I have plenty of time to step to the side, to put a hand out to stop him. It’s what I should do, given the audience that’s gathered.

But . . . I don’t want to.

Instead, as Lucas’s long arms wrap around me, I luxuriate in the way he burrows his face into my hair and inhales as if he’s missed me as much as I’ve missed him. I revel in the steady heartbeat thrumming beneath my cheek, the way his too-familiar scent soothes me. And yes, I take a moment to get as close to the crook of his neck as I can, because that’s where his scent is the strongest.

“We can go now,” Abe tells everyone.

I wiggle a little, to better see my mentor, but Lucas’s arms tighten around me almost painfully. He mutters something that sounds like the sleepiest, grumpiest, whiniest Not again before I duck enough to get out of his grasp. I might as well have saved myself the trouble; mere seconds pass before Lucas manages to drape himself over me. At least this time he’s hanging off my side and not blocking my line of sight and allows me to adjust the glasses he’s knocked askew.

“Do you know where he’s staying?” I’m talking to Abe’s back, because he already started walking away.

“If we did, would we have called you?”

“Right.” I widen my stance, trying to better absorb the weight of Lucas, who’s docile and smiling, but awfully heavy.

“Shouldn’t take you long to figure it out.” Abe’s conviction is firm, even though clearly none of them managed to figure it out in the past however long it’s been. He’s already getting his keys out, done with this conversation.

Following his lead, everyone else begins to disperse. They all wave to me, but only one of the third-years goes so far as to whisper, “Wish I could help,” before raising his shoulders in a helpless shrug.

Barely two minutes later, Lucas and I are the only ones still standing in front of the lattice-network-over-hardwood awning that is the entrance of Ocean Prime.

I shift Lucas until he’s forced to look down at me and support more of his own weight. “Are you staying at a hotel?”

Lucas nods, the wide grin back, his eyes bouncing to different parts of my face as if trying to take me in all at once.

“You’re pretty when you’re annoyed. And soft. And so sharp.” He leans in, tilting his head down to rest on my forehead, his breath laced with vodka, and whispers, “I even like your green hair, but don’t tell Lorelai.”

I bite back a smile. “Why aren’t we telling Lorelai?”

A look of intense concentration passes over Lucas’s face. “She’s disappointed in me.”

My heart twists a little, because how could it not. It’s a stupid hyperbolic phrase that means nothing, and yet it feels like the only way to describe my feelings.

“I doubt that.” I smooth a lock of hair away from his face. “Can you tell me what hotel you’re staying in?”

Lucas shakes his head and then squints his eyes at me. “A big one. Fancy. Debbie only books fancy hotels. Doesn’t matter what I tell her.”

“Debbie?” The entire point of my dissertation/computer program was to filter out news I didn’t want to know, and since I only allow myself to check summaries twice a year, it’s been months since I’ve read any Lucas-related news. Does Lucas have a girlfriend? A fiancée?