Page 107 of The Risk

“We’re not together, and neither were they,” I point out.

“He liked her, though.”

“He’s with that Katherine chick now.” McCarthy is still seeing the girl he met after the semifinals. Which tells me he probably didn’t care about Brenna as much as he cared about hooking up with someone.

“It’s still bro code,” Brooks argues. “I know the team captain card trumps all, but you should do the right thing and let him know.”

“Do the right thing? Since when do you have a conscience?” I ask in amusement.

“I’ve always had a conscience.” He hops off the couch. “I’m grabbing a beer. You want one?”

“Nah.”

“Jensen!” he shouts. “Beer?”

Brenna emerges from the corridor. “Sure. Thanks.” She joins me on the sectional and reaches for her letter tray. “All right, let’s do this thing.”

A few minutes later, the game gets underway. Brooks gathers a few decorative pillows that his mother purchased for us, and sprawls on the floor. He rearranges the wooden squares on his tray. “Yo, lemme go first. I have the best word ever.”

Brenna grins. “Let’s see it, Wordsmith.”

He lays down the wordbang.

“That’sthe best word ever?” she mocks. “Bang?”

“Yes, because banging is my favorite hobby.”

“Uh-huh, well, in terms of actual points, that word earned you…” She checks the letter values. “Plus the double-word score… Fourteen points.”

Brooks is quick to protest. “That’s great for the first turn.”

“If you think fourteen points is great, then you’ve never played Scrabble with my dad.”

He laughs. “Coach Jensen is a Scrabble Nazi?”

“Oh, he’s nuts about it. He’s the kind of player who puts down those two-or three-letter words on a triple-word score, and the next thing I know he’s beating me by two hundred points.”

“That’s no fun,” Brooks replies. “I play for the words, not the points. Connelly, it’s your turn.”

Extending vertically from his “B,” I add the wordbutt.

“As in, ‘bubble,’” I explain innocently.

My roommate flips me the bird. “Oh fuck off.”

Brenna grins at us. “What am I missing?”

“He has a bubble butt,” I tell her.

“I have a bubble butt,” he says glumly.

“Oh. Cool?” Brenna’s amused gaze lowers to her tiles. She rearranges a few of them as she tries to come up with a word.

“Do you want to see it?” Brooks offers.

“Not really—”

“Nah, let me show you. Just be honest and tell me what you think of it.”

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