“That’s how I know!” she said, and they all laughed. Donald handed her a quarter and she bounced, missing, and drank. “Look,” she said to me, “I’m going to go do a preliminary sweep. When I come back, I’ll walk you through and introduce you to some prospects. Okay?”
“Kristy,” I said, but she was already walking away, patting John on the head as she passed him.
“Your turn,” he said, nodding at me.
I picked up the quarter. While I’d seen this game played before, I’d never tried it myself. I bounced the quarter like Kristy had, and it landed in the cup with a splash, which was good. I thought. “What happens now?” I asked Philip.
He swallowed. “You pick someone to drink.”
I looked around the table, then pointed at John, who raised his cup, toasting me.
“Your turn again,” Philip said.
“Oh.” I bounced the quarter again: again, it went in.
“Watch out!” Donald said. “She’s on fire!”
Just barely: with my third bounce, I missed. Philip indicated that I should drink, which I did, and pushed the quarter on to John. “Oh well,” I said. “It was fun while it lasted.” He made it, of course, and pointed at me.
“Bottoms up,” he said, so I drank again.
And again. And again. The next twenty minutes or so passed quickly—or at least it seemed that way—as I missed just about every bounce I took and was picked to drink whenever anyone else landed one in. Dateable or not, these guys were ruthless. Which meant that by the time Wes slid into the seat beside me, things were seeming a little fuzzy. To say the least.
“Hey,” he said. “Thought you were lost.”
“Not lost,” I told him. “Kidnapped. And now, a colossal failure at quarters. Did you find your friend?”
He shook his head. “He’s not here. You about ready to go?”
“Beyond ready,” I said. “In fact, I think I’m a little—”
“Macy.” I turned around to see Kristy, hands on hips, looking determined. “It’s time to do this.”
“Do what?” Wes asked, and I was wondering the same thing, having totally forgotten our earlier conversation. Not that it mattered, as she already had me on my feet, stumbling slightly, and was dragging me full force into the kitchen. Oh, right, I thought. Prospects.
“You know,” I said. “I don’t think I’m really—”
“Five minutes,” she said firmly. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Fifteen minutes later, I found myself still in the kitchen, which was now packed with people, talking to a football player who was named either Hank or Frank: it had been too loud to make it out exactly. I’d been trying to extract myself, but between the crowd pressed all around me and Kristy watching like a hawk as she talked to her own prospect, it was kind of hard. Plus I was feeling a bit unsteady. Make that a lot unsteady.
“Don’t you date Jason Talbot?” he said to me, shouting to be heard over the music that was blasting from a nearby stereo.
“Well,” I began, pushing a piece of hair out of my face.
“What?” he yelled.
I said, “Actually, we’re—”
He shook his head, cupping a hand behind his ear. “What?”
“No,” I said loudly, leaning in closer to him and almost losing my balance. “No. I don’t.”
Just then, someone bumped me from behind, pushing me into Hank/Frank. “Sorry,” I said, starting to step back, but he put his hands on my waist. I felt dizzy and strange, too hot, entirely too hot.
“Careful there,” he said, smiling at me again. I looked down at his hands, spread over my hips: they were big and hammy. Yuck. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to step back again. But he moved with me, sliding his arms farther around my waist. “I think I need some air,” I said.
“I’ll come with you,” he said, and Kristy turned her head, looking at me.
“Macy?” she said.
“She’s fine,” Hank/Frank said.
“You know,” I said to Kristy, but I lost sight of her as a tall girl with a pierced nose stepped between us, “I think we should—”
“Me too,” Hank/Frank said. I could feel his fingers brushing under my shirt, touching my bare skin. I felt a chill, and not the good kind. He leaned in closer to me, his lips touching my ear just slightly, and said, “Hey, let’s go somewhere.”
I looked for Kristy again, but she was gone, nowhere I could see. Now I was feeling totally woozy as Hank/Frank leaned into my ear again, his voice saying something, but the music was loud, the beat pounding in my ears.
“Wait,” I said, trying to pull back from him.
“Shhh, calm down,” he said, moving his hands up my back. I yanked away from him, too hard, then stumbled backwards, losing my balance. I could feel myself falling fast, into the space behind me, even as I tried to right myself. And then, suddenly, there was someone there.
Someone who put his hands on my elbows, steadying me, pulling me back to my feet. The hands were cool on my hot skin, and I could just feel this presence behind me, solid, like a wall. Something to lean on, strong enough to hold me.
I turned my head. It was Wes.
“There you are,” he said, as Hank/Frank looked on, annoyed. “You about ready to go?”
I nodded. I could feel his stomach against my back, and without even thinking about it I felt myself leaning back into him. His hands were still cupping my elbows, and even though I knew this was weird, that I’d never do it any other time, I just stayed where I was, pressed against him.