Page 22 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

“Assistant.” He scrunches his nose in the most adorable way. “Executive assistant? Everyone and their important titles.”

I heave a sigh of relief, not the least of which is because I know Lucas is most likely too drunk to remember any of this (including my very revealing overreaction to a potential girlfriend) tomorrow. The one and only other time I’ve seen Lucas drunk, he woke with zero recollection of what transpired the night before. He categorically denied that the various photos Brody and I took of him (willingly singing karaoke in a wig, for example) were legitimate.

“Can we call Debbie?”

Lucas looks up at the dark sky. We’re too far into the city for there to be many visible stars. “I think she will have gone home by now. Don’t want to impose.”

I sigh because even when he’s operating at normal capacity, Lucas’s words are measured. Now that he’s inebriated? I can feel the wrinkles on my face forming as he composes sentences.

“Could I have your wallet?”

The look he gives me is trusting but confused. He fumbles in his back pocket until he produces a shiny leather Ferragamo wallet.

“Wow, you’ve certainly, uh, upgraded?” I know it comes out sounding more like a question than a comment, but the wallet is gaudy in a way I wouldn’t have considered to be Lucas’s style.

“Brody.” Lucas waves the wallet in front of me haphazardly, using his nails to dig at the logo, as if he can pry it off. “I would never.”

He shakes his head, sad and forlorn about the accessory he’s clearly kept out of loyalty. And even though I’m probably going straight to hell, I can’t help but chuckle. It makes perfect sense that Brody would have given Lucas a bougie wallet (likely as a joke) but that Lucas, being Lucas, would feel too guilty to not use a wallet he clearly loathes.

I love Drunk Lucas.

Though really, who am I kidding? I love every single iteration of Lucas.

When he stops waving it around, I take his wallet and flip through. I find his ID, too much cash, and the same photo booth pictures I’ve also hung on to, where we’re grinning and kissing.

I refold it carefully, tucking it behind his driver’s license.

It’s an old picture. But a new wallet.

I close my eyes against the tidal wave of emotions I don’t have time for because what I did not find is . . . a hotel key. And short of going through his contacts and calling Debbie (which somehow feels far more intrusive than flipping through his wallet), I’m just about out of options.

It’s a terrible option.

I should text Levi. But that would absolutely give away the fact that I’ve kept in touch with both of Lucas’s younger brothers, raising questions I don’t want Lucas asking.

It’s a terrible idea.

“If I take you back to my place, will you behave?”

Lucas’s hazel eyes open so wide I can see the small flecks of gold and green. His voice drips with innocence. “I always behave.”

8

THE COUNTRY CLUB, A YEAR-ROUND JOB FAIR

BEFORE

Leading up to regionals, our record is decidedly imperfect. While we can regularly beat the lower-ranked teams, we lose all but one of the four matchups to Arjun-Xinzhe-Dmitry, who are not gracious in their victories.

“Shouldn’t have turned me down.” Arjun purposefully bumps against Lucas’s shoulder, so that Lucas’s laptop skitters across the table and he half dives to save it from falling off the table.

Arjun is much shorter but probably fifty pounds heavier, and because I’m the one who’s standing, I instinctively shove him away from Lucas.

“You his bodyguard and his fucktoy now?”

Before I can say anything, Brody steps in. He clasps his large, meaty hand on Arjun’s shoulder and lowers his head. “Be less of a cliché.”

“What?” Arjun asks, his arms spreading as if he’s readying himself for a fight. “You think there’s any other reason he would have chosen to team up with her?”