Anything but Ordinary(34)

Bryce reached out for a pair. Greg lifted them out of her grasp. She tried again, and again Greg pulled them away. Bryce couldn’t help giggling. Greg was smiling, watching her struggle.

Carter banged his hand on the bar’s surface. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to get my own shoes.”

Gabby pulled Greg to accompany her on her turn, where he stood behind her and guided her arm to the proper trajectory. Bryce looked at them and found it hard to concentrate on anything else.

She pretended to tie her shoes. She untied and tied the knot three times.

“So how do neurologists do, generally speaking?” she heard Gabby say above her. They had returned to the orange-and-brown plastic seats.

“We work on commission,” Carter said dryly. “The bigger the brain, the bigger the paycheck.”

Bryce felt him looking at her. She sat up and laughed too late.

“So, Bryce, your brain—” Carter pretended to speculate. “Probably, close to one hundred K in total.”

“That much, huh?” Greg said, looking at Carter. His face was blank.

“Oh, yeah.” Carter reached over to put his hands around Bryce’s head. Bryce snorted and lifted her shoulders at his touch. “Bryce has a big brain. I’ve seen it.” He gave her head a little shake.

“Gross,” Bryce laughed.

“Have either of you ever eaten brain?” Gabby leaned in. “It’s delicious. Greg and I had it when we were in Spain, remember?”

Greg, who had lifted his arms into a stretch, let an arm fall on Gabby’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing to do. Bryce looked at the table’s crusty surface.

“Nah, it was in Morocco, remember?”

“That’s right,” Gabby said. “But first, we were in Spain, standing on these ruins. And these weren’t the tourist ruins, these were ruins Greg and I had just found, because he gets these feelings sometimes. He just goes off…” Gabby put a cool hand on Bryce’s forearm. “You know, Bryce. He just goes off sometimes, forgetting anyone else is there, and you either follow him, or you don’t.”

Greg’s mouth twitched into a smile.

“Anyway, we were standing on these coastal ruins, and the wind was blowing off the water almost hard enough to knock us over, and Greg and I were just watching the Mediterranean crashing against the rocks, just staring out for a long time. It was the most raw feeling. It was like we could conquer the world.”

Gabby took a sip of beer. “And he turns to me and says, Gab, let’s go to Morocco. We’d both spent most of our graduation money by that point, but I had made friends with this fisherman on a pier over near the beach who was willing to take us for half the price. So that settled it. We just said, Screw it. Let’s go to Morocco.”

Greg was shaking his head, happily lost in the memory. “I felt like we could have gone anywhere in the world that day.”

“It sounds awesome,” Bryce said quietly. She had left the bowling alley for a moment, listening to Gabby talk about traveling. Growing up, she’d never been in a rush to get away; she wanted to go cliff-diving, sure, but she never put much thought into it because she always figured she’d have time, or that diving competitions would take her around the world. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“Yep, thank goodness we got that all out of our system.” Gabby took another sip of beer. Bryce looked up. “Now begins my journey through the exciting world of humanitarian law.”

“We can still travel on breaks and stuff,” Greg said, typing his name into the clunky bowling score computer.

Gabby pursed her lips. “I don’t know about that. Rent in D.C. is pretty high.”

“Glad we’re paying an arm and a leg for a box,” Greg responded curtly.

“It’s worth it,” Gabby said, taken aback.

“For you, it is,” Greg mumbled.

“Okay,” Gabby said softly, and reached out to put one of Greg’s strands of hair behind his ears. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Silence. Carter finally spoke up. “It’s Bryce’s turn.”

Bryce got up slowly and twisted her waist back and forth, loosening up. She chose one of the lighter balls, lifting it gingerly to her chest. Hopefully her daily rowing would serve her well.

As she swung back, momentum did its job. A clean shot, all but three.

Greg’s turn. He got a strike. Gabby kissed him long on the lips, holding his face.

Bryce pretended to go to the bathroom but really took a lap around the bowling alley. Sitting at the table across from the couple was like waiting for her scores at a diving meet and never, ever receiving them.

When she returned, Carter rubbed his hands together as he stood, feeling out for the right ball in the row. He chose a large green fifteen-pounder.

Carter was a little taller and lankier than Greg, but he controlled his limbs with surprising grace, shooting the ball straight down the center arrow, only veering suddenly at the end. Strike.

Gabby took her turn, grabbing whatever ball was closest and dropping it on the lane like she was tossing dirty laundry in a hamper.

Bryce took her turn to hurl the ball down the lane like a shot-putter. Strike.

“Miraculous,” Greg said as she sat down, taking a swig of his beer. He winked at Bryce, and her stomach flip-flopped.