Page 46 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

“And you’re always reading to the girls.”

Lucas, who has been half fighting with his younger brothers via text all week, rolls his eyes. “I’d trade Levi and Leno for your little sisters any day of the week.”

“I’m telling them you said that.”

I step to the side because it’s Lucas’s turn to check in. He’s giving me that small ghost-smile when he says, “I’m sorry it’s taking so long to plan our ten-dollar date.”

There’s no guile in his words. Lucas means well.

But my reaction is immediate. My cheeks flame, because this is the first-class airport lounge—where even though not everyone is wearing Balenciaga sneakers, very few people are dressed solely via Walmart’s on-sale rack. And it’s just not . . . where I’d like to be openly discussing financial constraints.

“Sorry,” Lucas mouths, seeing my face.

I shake my head, because really, what does it matter? Why have I internalized my parents’ standards to judge Lucas? Why do I care what my father would say?

Lucas takes his ID back from the attendant and grabs my hand, as if he has every right to do so, as if this isn’t the first time he’s initiated physical contact. He’s still holding my hand when we find Brody, camped out in a corner of the lounge, his items spread out across three chairs. Though Brody gives us his patented eyebrow lift, Lucas doesn’t deign to explain.

I’m the one who breaks the silence. “Hopefully, you’re okay with this⁠—”

Brody barks out a laugh. “Like you’d stop if I had a problem with it.”

“True, but⁠—”

“You nerds know I’m ecstatic about this. Team Lukeali.” He adjusts his headphones and points toward the snack bar. “The meal options are limited, so you guys should probably fill up on snacks.”

Brody gestures lazily toward the free hors d’oeuvres, the all-you-can-eat hot/cold buffets that are standard, and I can see the way Lucas’s eyes go wide. I squeeze his hand a little, to redirect his attention, hating the flicker of annoyance that I can practically hear my father lecturing me when I stared, wide-eyed, at the first formal function he brought me to: Reacting makes you seem poor.

“It looks great, doesn’t it?” My voice is extra chipper, to punish myself for even silently judging him.

Lucas, as usual, is completely without guile. “I wish I could take some back for the twins.”

He makes no effort to keep his voice low, and even though one of the other patrons looks over, I return the gaze with my chin lifted. I’m making eye contact with a woman who’s the same age as my mother, who’s giving me the same level of judgment, even as I try to keep my voice light. “Can you imagine the day when, after we’ve won ICPC and are entertaining competing job offers from multiple hedge funds, we’ll be too rich to care about free appetizers?”

“Or the day we’ll be the ones providing the appetizers.”

I laugh. “So ambitious.”

“Dare to dream, Red.”

We sample every single dish in the buffet before finally convincing Brody to practice with us. It’s not until we’re waiting to board that Lucas’s anxiety resurfaces. He grips my hand and leans against the inside of the airplane after just one step in, and I’m afraid, for a moment, that he’s going to back out. But he takes a deep breath and follows me, listening to me chatter about the orange juice we’ll be offered, the container of warmed nuts.

“There’s no reason for almonds to taste better because they’re warmed and presented in a glass container.” Lucas is chewing methodically, as if it’s a complicated process that requires all of his attention. I push my container toward him. “It’s so stupid,” he says.

“It’s so stupid it’s delicious?” Brody asks. The seat next to his is empty, meaning he’s sprawled out across the aisle, like a king.

“No comment.”

As the flight attendant explains basic safety procedures, I can see the way Lucas’s knuckles are slowly turning white, and so I lift his fingers to my lips in an effort to distract him.

Brody groans.

“I thought you shipped us?” Lucas asks. His pupils are blown wide, his gaze now wholly focused on me.

“Yes, but not from this up close.” He turns and wraps himself in his blanket, pulling down his silk eye mask and repositioning his Bose headphones. “Now you may carry on.”

Lucas bites his lip as soon as Brody’s settled. He whispers to me, “It’s still forty elephants suspended in the air.”

“So professors and aviation—any other fears I should know about?”