Page 32 of The Probability of Us

“Well, well, well!” the game host says over the mic, trying to get the crowd excited. He’s a shorter man who’s trying to hide the fact that he’s balding by combing his hair over, but it only makes it more obvious. He looks like he tried to dress in what he thought was “hip,” but it just looks haphazard. We’ve been here enough for trivia that he knows our group. We try to be kind to him, but it’s hard not to laugh when he gets way too into this volunteer trivia hosting job. “It seems we’re going to have to pull out one of theextremetie-breaker questions.”

He holds out the last word and wiggles his fingers at the crowd, which comes across more spooky than exciting, and everyone looks around.

He quickly stops and clears his throat. “Whoever gets it right will not only win tonight’s trivia competition and get a free round of drinks, but based on the current scores, they’ll also land themselves the number one spot on the leaderboard.”

Now that causes some chatter, and many heads—including our own—look over at the chalkboard of leaders. The number one spot hasn’t changed since we started coming here. I don’t even know how long it’s been there. Every time we’ve played in these trivia nights, we’ve said we’re going to end up on that board, but tonight is the first time we truly have a chance. Warren and I grin at each other like little kids who were just told they’re going to Disney.

“Will our top two teams please make their way down here? Give it up forThe SummersandThe Chumpions.” The crowd claps as we walk up. Sterling and Ali cheer too loud and I turn to glare at them, but the smile won’t leave my face.

We shake hands with our opponents, who are a pair of middle-aged men who look like their job could be watching the Animal Planet channel all day. They smile at us, but I see the look they give each other—they think they’ve got this in the bag. I press my lips together and narrow my eyes at them, hoping I’m making what Warren calls my “scary face.” Their faces pale slightly when they look at me, and I smile back with a look full of venom.

Warren chuckles softly behind me and rests a hand on my lower back. I pull my eyes off the competition and fight a sigh when they land on him. I’m so in love with him, it’s scary. Literally. I’m so in love with him I’m scared to tell him because the force behind the words might be too overwhelming, especially since he hasn’t said them yet either.

“Are you ready for the final question?” the host asks, and I force my eyes off him. Only once we all nod does he continue. “In what scenario can it be advantageous to form a parent company under Tax Law number seven hundred and nine? A) Litigation, B) Conflict of Interest, C) Bankruptcy, or D) Acquisition.”

Each team whispers amongst themselves. Warren and I immediately rule out A and C, thinking that they don’t really make sense even though we can’t explain why. These questions are called “extreme” for a reason—they’re meant to be about extremely obscure things very few would know about. We go back and forth on the last two options, but eventually Warren gives in and agrees to go with my choice.

Both teams stand up straight and look at each other, meaning we’re ready.

“All right, both teams will say their answers on the count of three,” the host says, then turns to address the crowd. “If both are right, we’ll keep going through questions until one team gets one wrong. But if both are wrong, we’ll do a redo with the remaining answer choices.” He looks between us then starts counting. “One, two, three.”

“D) Acquisition,” the Chumpions say, as we answer, “B) Conflict of Interest.”

It goes completely silent. The crowd holds their breath, looking between us in anticipation as the announcer makes a long scene of checking his card and looking between the two teams. “It looks like we have a winner.” Warren’s hand moves to lace with mine and squeezes. We’ll either win or lose because of the argument I made for choice B. I swallow—hopefully it was the correct argument. “The team that has won tonight’s game, and will claim the top score of all time is . . .The Summers!”

I squeal and turn to throw my arms around Warren’s neck. His arms wrap around me immediately and he lifts me off the ground.

“How do you feel?” The microphone gets shoved between us before I can kiss him, and he recovers faster than I do.

A sinful smile plays at his lips, and he winks as he answers, “Brighter than the sun.”

I smile at the answer that’s just for me.Mysun.

“The sun?” the host asks. “Like your team nameThe Summers?”

Warren nods, eyes locked on me.

“Would you like to tell us why you chose that name?”

A smile pulls at my lips, and he nods towards me, letting me answer the question. “Well, my last name is Summers, and . . . well, look at him.” I gesture to Warren with a grin on my face. “He’s golden, and glows like the sun. I’ve always joked that if we got married, he’d have to take my last name. So, we’reThe Summers.”

“Aww,” the host starts and eggs on the crowd to join.

Warren leans down to kiss me, light and sweet and warm as a collection ofaw’sfill the room.

“So, marriage is in your future then?”

I cough out a laugh and turn beet red.

We haven’t even said “I love you” yet. We’re taking it slow and doing this right, even though I have to bite my tongue every time I’m around him so the words don’t accidentally slip out.

“We only started dating recently,” I answer first, because the look on Warren’s face has me scared—but also excited—about what he was going to say. “We have a lot of time before we have to worry about that.”

The microphone starts to pull back, but Warren stops it. “But living in summer for the rest of my life doesn’t sound like such a bad thing.”

I lightly hit him in the stomach as a blush stains my cheeks. “You getting all sappy on me now, Mitchell?”

“I guess the summer heat thawed this cold heart,” he teases with a smirk, and I laugh.

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