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5
Taylor
Combined, Brody and I made a good team. Our knowledge was complimentary. He knew everything about sports—football, baseball, basketball, even the US Men’s National Soccer Team—and I handled the more academic questions. And there were quite a few sports questions. Apparently the Utah Jazz were in the playoffs, so there were an unbalanced number of trivia questions about them.
“You’re the one carrying the team!” I said halfway through the game. “We’ve gotten every one right so far. If I was with a bunch of gray-haired archeologists, we would probably be in last place.”
“I wasn’t going to say it, but I was thinking it,” Brody replied. The next question popped up on the screen and he quickly said, “Oh! I know this one too.”
We were sitting on the same side of the table so we could both see the screen. Brody leaned in close and cupped his arm over my ear so he could whisper: “Karl Malone.”
His hot breath tickled my skin and sent excited jitters up my spine. “Are you sure?”
He gave me a look. “Don’t lose faith in me now, T-Foxy!”
I grinned at the nickname and wrote the answer down on the card. Which, of course, turned out to be correct.
With every right answer, our excitement built. When I guessed one correctly, Brody slapped me on the back like I was a long-time friend. When it was his turn to contribute, he gave me a smug, but charming, smirk.
At the end of the game, we had only missed one question and were tied with another team for first place. It went into sudden death, and after three more questions, we were the last team standing.
Brody jumped up and pumped his fist in victory. We high-fived, then shared a hug. Brody was every bit as strong as he looked—he squeezed me so tight that for a few moments I was unable to breathe.
Brody wore his hoodie up as we went to accept our prize, which was a special pint glass with a detachable medal on the front.
“What’s that about?” I asked, flicking my finger at his hood. “Trying to avoid a girlfriend or something?”
He shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t really like attention, I guess.”
It seemed like a cop-out, but I was having too much fun to care. “Thanks for making me play. That was better than going home and feeling sorry for myself.”
Brody hefted the pint glass. “We’ve got to break this bad boy in. How about a victory beer to celebrate?”
“Yeah,” I said, glad that he offered. “We deserve to bask in this glory.”
“Damn right we do.”
Brody ordered another beer in the commemorative pint glass, and we shared it at the table. It should have been weird drinking out of the same glass as someone I had just met, but it wasn’t. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“I never asked what you do for a living,” I said.
Brody took a long pull from the beer. “I work in the receiving department for a big company.” He smiled to himself like it was a joke. “The money’s good, but it’s really boring.”
“Paleontology is boring,” I said, “but you’ve listened to me drone on all night about it.”
“It’s not boring!” he insisted. “I wish I had a professor like you in college. I bet the boys drool over you.”
“They drool, but only because they’re asleep on their desks,” I muttered.
He waved a hand dismissively. “I think you’re being modest. So, what made you want to go into paleontology?”
“It’s kind of silly, but… Jurassic Park.”
I waited for his reaction. He cocked his head and asked, “The movie, or book?”
“The movie!” I said, as if it were an embarrassing revelation. “You know the character Ellie Sattler? She was played by Laura Dern, with the cute little khaki shorts and hiking boots.”
“Oh, I remember,” he said, biting his lip for emphasis. “Yes ma’am, I do.”
