Pull up chairs.
Sit.
Lauren and Brad are to our left, Maya and Derek facing us like game show hosts, the entire room watching.
Cool. Just relax.
Maya is practically vibrating with excitement as she pulls out index cards. At least someone’s enjoying this. “Okay, here’s how this works. There are five questions. Two for the boys, two for the girls, and one last one for you both. When I ask you the question, you’ll both write down your answer. You get points if you match. Most points wins.”
Someone hands us small whiteboards and markers. The kind teachers use. Very official. Very terrifying.
Brody’s knee presses against mine. Warm. Solid. He gives me this look—quick, assessing. How much do you remember from Barcelona? From Monday night. From any of the conversations we’ve had.
Spoiler: probably not enough.
“First question!” Maya announces, holding up a card. “Ladies, this one should be easy for all of you. What is your partner’s jersey number?”
Oh. Easy.
I write down: 7
Brody’s already done, his handwriting neat and slanted. Confident.
“Reveal!” Maya shouts.
We turn our boards.
Mine: 7
His: 7
The crowd cheers, hungry for something a little more challenging.
“Next question!” Maya’s grinning. “Gentlemen, what is your girlfriend’s comfort food?”
I hesitate.
Did we talk about this? I’m searching my memory—we’ve talked about food a lot, actually. Over tapas, coffee, dinner…
It doesn’t matter. I have to write something down.
I scribble on my board.
Brody’s done before me. Again. Not even hesitating.
“Reveal!”
Mine: Carbs.
His: Bread. Cookies. Carbs.
The room erupts, cheering.
And I’m just staring at his board. That is almost exactly what I said. I remember now, Monday night. What do you do when you’re stressed? That had been the question.
He remembered.
I spare a glance at Lauren and Brad. She’s looking at his haphazard scribble of “salad” with a look of absolute disgust. I don’t blame her. Nobody’s comfort food is salad. Come on, Brad.
