The Truth About Forever(69)

"God, calm down," I said. She was still looking at me, as if this was not an acceptable answer. I added, "I swear."

"All right then," she said, nodding toward the dining room, where I could see a bunch of guys gathered around the table. "Prove it."

"Prove it?" I said, but she was already dragging me down into the foyer, across the living room, and into the dining room, plopping me down in a chair, and perching herself on the arm. Monica, true to form, arrived about thirty seconds later, looking winded. Not that Kristy seemed to notice. Clearly she was on a mission.

"Macy," she said, gesturing down the table to a heavyset guy in a baseball cap, another in an orange shirt, and, at the end, a hippie-looking type with blue eyes and a ponytail, "this is John, Donald, and Philip."

"Hi," I said, and they all said hello in return.

"Macy's currently sort of between relationships," Kristy explained, "and I am trying, trying, to show her that there is a whole world of possibilities out there."

Everyone was looking at me, and I felt my face redden. I wondered when Wes was coming back.

"These guys," Kristy continued, gesturing around the table, "are totally undateable. But they're really nice."

"The fact that we're undateable, however," John, the one in the baseball hat, said to me, "did not stop her from dating all of us."

"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.