Page 24 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

“Why say two words if you can get away with one?” I tease.

To which Brody responds, “Why say lot word when few word do trick?”

And when neither Lucas nor I gets it, Brody buries his face in his hands. “Neither of you watch The Office? How are you two even human?”

Six weeks of training and Brody hasn’t seemed to pick up on the fact that Lucas eats sparingly, sneaks chips into his backpack whenever there are free snacks, and always looks fatigued during our weekend practices—meaning like me, Lucas likely works a side job.

Thus, very little time to immerse himself in pop culture.

“I have needs, guys.”

I look toward Lucas and give the smallest shrug. If this is what it takes to keep Brody happy . . .

Lucas sighs. “Once a week, we could do something that’s not practice.”

Brody whoops and makes Lucas give him a reluctant high five.

“CS, man.”

“Computer science?” I guess.

“Counter-Strike. That’s my pick. I’m going to introduce you to the elite tactical game that is a life-changing experience.”

“This is supposed to make me like you guys more?” I don’t bother keeping the disdain from my voice.

“No, but you’ll get your turn. We’ll vibe better while coding this way. You’ll see.”

The next week, I make the boys watch The Cutting Edge, because it’s sports-adjacent for Brody, and also is cutesy and romantic enough to feel like apt punishment for the almost four hours of Counter-Strike I was forced to endure.

Brody does his best to pick the movie apart, in real time.

“So all hockey players can be figure skaters? But can any figure skater become a hockey player? Not a very egalitarian movie, Lorelai.”

“Of course they’re going to fall in love now.”

“Why are there so many close-ups of their butts?”

“How old is this movie?”

(This is the only comment I consider replying to: It’s old. But I had a friend who was a figure skater, back when I went to a richie-rich private school, and The Cutting Edge was a thing.)

“‘I’m in the mood to kick a little ass’ is the best line in this movie.”

“And now you’ll know what movie I’m quoting.”

Brody looks at me, his legs splayed wide on the single lounge chair because he left the loveseat for me and Lucas, meaning the two of us spent an inordinate amount of time discreetly scooting away from each other each time there was accidental shifting, some almost-casual touching.

“You could just say you’re in the mood to kick ass. No movie reference needed.”

“Yeah,” Lucas seconds, looking at me, his gaze too soft for my liking.

“You don’t like my movies? Wait until I bring a stack of romance books⁠—”

“How is that bonding?”

“That’s what I asked about Counter-Strike.”

“Yeah, but CS is a lifestyle.” Brody crosses his arms before looking meaningfully at Lucas. “For your pick, I expect better than a figure skating rom-com.”