“Jetson.”

“Jetson?” I ask. “That’s his name?”

“Ehh, no, but he looks like George Jetson, so that’s what I call him. I actually don’t know his real name, but we talk in the elevator. He told me about trivia night here. Actually”—Banner perks his head up and looks around—“he might have come tonight. I saw him this morning and told him we were attending.”

“Hey, are your other two teammates arriving soon?” a man with a long fire-red beard asks. He’s sporting a backward hat and a plaid shirt and holding a mic in his hand that’s turned off.

“Uh, what?” I ask. “It’s just us.” I motion to Banner.

“This is four-person trivia night.”

“Oh, shit, really?” Banner asks. Then he leans toward me and whispers, “A minor detail Jetson left out.”

“Are we able to play with two?” I ask.

“No, but don’t worry, we have another pair who need a team as well, so we’ll send them over here.”

“Aces,” Banner says with a thumbs-up, looking like a total dick. I know he’s doing it in an ironic way, but he still looks stupid.

When the trivia host leaves, I turn to Banner. “Why don’t we just find another place? We can just hang out and have a drink.”

“No way, I ordered garlic tater tots. I’m not leaving until every one of them is in my belly.”

“Okay then.” I don’t put up too much of a fight because Banner planned this, and I know he’s been missing me. Playing professional baseball has definitely changed things. Don’t get me wrong, I love it and wouldn’t trade it for anything, but it’s demanding. I’m either playing a night game, I’m out of town, or I’m training. It doesn’t leave much time for brotherly bonding.

The server drops off our drinks, and just as I pick up mine to take a sip, the host comes back and says, “Here are your other two teammates. They’ve already picked a name for your team. Bisley’s Balls.”

A chill races up my spine as the host steps out of the way, and Myla steps forward with her friend Nichole.

What the actual fuck?

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bisley Balls,” she says with a large smile.

“Holy shit, Myla, what are you doing here?” I ask while I hop off my stool and step up to her. Unsure of what to do, I extend my hand out for a handshake but then also go in for a hug and end up poking her in the belly with my fingers. “Fuck, sorry,” I say as she chuckles.

“What are you trying to do there, killer?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” I pull on my neck. “Didn’t know if I should shake your hand or hug you, or . . . hell, I don’t know.”

“Let us show you how it’s done,” Nichole says right before she walks up to Banner, slips her hand to the back of his head, and gives him an open-mouthed kiss. Of course, my very single and horny brother receives her hello with open arms. When Nichole pulls away, she wets her lips and says, “We’ll be heading to the bathroom later.”