Braithe cackled.

  “Yessssss!” Ursa sat upright.

  Mac looked around at them nervously and then reached for her wineglass.

  “My youth group was on this camping trip,” she said. “So the guys were in one area and the girls in another and we had a chaperone in each camp. One day, the girls arranged to meet the guys at the lake after our youth leaders fell asleep. They were going to skinny-dip, but I didn’t want to do it, because I was, like, terrified we’d get caught, so I stayed behind in the tent.” Her face got really pale, and Rainy felt sick. This wasn’t going to be good. She wanted to reach out and tell Mac that she didn’t owe anything to these women, and she didn’t have to say another word if she didn’t want to.

  “Anyway, there was this guy I kind of liked but he never really spoke to me, even when I tried to talk to him. The others hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes when he crawls into the tent where I’m lying in my freaking purple sleeping bag...and he starts to kiss me.”

  “Wait, he didn’t ask? He just starts to...kiss you?” The delighted look had left Ursa’s face, and she was staring at Mac in horror. Mac nodded.

  “But then he starts feeling me up, too, and I’m still so shocked by the kissing that I’m letting it all happen.”

  “Whoa, whoa!” Braithe said, cutting her off. “How old were you?”

  The room had taken on a new feel. Everyone had stopped drinking and eating and fidgeting and they were all focused on Mac. She looked exceptionally small and fragile as she sat on her knees on the hotel floor, wearing her Britney Spears T-shirt. She probably hadn’t looked that much different when she was a teenager. Rainy blinked hard, trying to clear her vision.

  “Fifteen,” she said. They all flinched. It was an age where people stopped thinking of you as a child, even though you still were one. Grown men made sexual remarks to fifteen-year-old girls all the time. Rainy knew that on an all-too-personal level. She shivered as she stared at Mac, not wanting the story to go where it seemed to be headed.

  “We—he had sex with me. It all happened really fast and I genuinely feel so stupid for not saying anything, or screaming, or anything like that. I just laid there, honest to God, and waited for it to be over. I never told anyone.” She folded her lips in after the last sentence and stared fixedly at the blank TV screen.

  “Mac, holy shit,” Ursa said. “Does Bryan know?”

  Mac shook her head. Bryan Biggs was a really nice guy, there was no other way to describe him. He reminded Rainy of what she was supposed to be: kind, patient and outgoing.

  “Omigod,” Mac said in one breath. “I can’t believe I just told you all of that.” She covered her face with her hands, and Ursa went to sit by her. Mac started to cry.

  “No, Mac, please don’t. We’re your friends.” Braithe reached across the table between them and placed her hand over Mac’s protectively while Ursa nodded. Rainy felt torn between comforting her and staying the observer. She noticed that Tara was watching everyone’s reactions carefully from where she still sat perched in her chair.

  “What happened to that guy?” Rainy asked.

  “Who the fuck cares,” Ursa said, rubbing little circles on Mac’s back. “I hope he died a thousand deaths.”

  “Nothing. He never really spoke to me after that.”

  Tara said, “What?”

  At the same time, Braithe said, “Hell, no!”

  Mac shrugged. “He never spoke to me before then. He just kept coming to youth group and I pretended not to know him and then finally we moved and...”

  “This is messed up,” Tara said.

  “Someone take a turn and change the subject fast,” Mac laughed through her tears. She shoved the ice bucket toward Tara, who wordlessly stuck her hand in and pulled out a slip.

  She didn’t bother to read it first like Mac had, wanting to digest the question before she shared it. Tara cleared her throat. “Why haven’t you had any kids?”

  Tara’s smooth white throat spasmed as she laughed. Her face was tilted all the way up to the ceiling like she was conversing with God. “Who asked this?” she said between tears. The tension in the room deflated under her cackling and Rainy started to laugh along with the others. The question, though very valid, could have been posed to any of them; they were all childless. As the author of the question, Mac raised a hand, which for some reason made Tara laugh harder.

  “Okay...okay...sorry,” she said, spreading a palm over her chest. “I don’t know why that tickled me so much. Matt and I tried for about four years, then we talked about adoption, but we never actually made a move toward those first steps. That’s really it. I don’t think we wanted it enough. And we’re pretty happy just the two of us. You’re going to be a great mom, though,” she said, pointing a finger at Mac, “when you’re ready. You and Viola are the graduating class.” No one said anything for another minute and Rainy considered that they were all wondering about everyone else’s reasons.

  “What about you, Braithe?” Mac asked. So that’s who her question had really been directed to. Rainy was more interested in her answer than she’d like to admit. Stephen and Braithe had a box at the Seattle ballet, they vacationed to places like Greece and Italy and had a wine cellar in their house with bottles that cost anywhere from three hundred dollars to three thousand. Rainy had assumed they were too busy to have children; she’d never considered that maybe they couldn’t have them.

  “I used to want children,” Braithe said. “I always thought I’d have three: a boy and twin girls. I wanted to name the girls Juniper and Orla, isn’t that funny?”

  “Those are pretty names,” Mac said. “What about the little boy?”

  “He’d have his dad’s name.”

  Everyone fell silent, imagining a little Stephen with tight curls and dimples and waiting for Braithe to tell them why it never happened. But Braithe didn’t explain. She reached for the ice bucket. Her hand emerged and she curled her knee up to her chest and wrapped her arm around it to read the slip. She absently fingered the ends of her hair, her mouth moving as she read. Three to go, Rainy thought. Would she have to lie? If Ursa asked the first question, and Mac the second. That left her own, Tara’s and Braithe’s questions unanswered. She’d already decided that she wanted to be the last one to go. That way, she could make her answer short and sweet and end this game.

  “Are you going to read it or not, Braithe?” Rainy wasn’t the only one watching her. To her right, Tara was smirking at Braithe. “Let’s hear it.” Tara nudged Braithe’s shoulder with her toe. “I’m getting bored with this, fast.”

  “Well, I’m down to be done.” Braithe crumpled the slip in her fist and made to toss it away.

  “No way, everyone has a turn. I’ll read it for you.” She wrestled the paper from Braithe’s grasp with a triumphant smile and, with the slip in her possession, Tara began to read silently, ignoring Braithe’s protests. When she saw the question, Tara exclaimed, “Yass, girl.”

  “Ohhh, why doesn’t she want to answer her BFF’s question?” Ursa was sitting on a chair behind Mac. She’d retrieved her curling wand and was sectioning off the brunette’s hair.

  “Because she’s being rude,” Braithe said, giving Tara a look. But instead of continuing to fight with Tara, she let her read it.

  “Who was your first true love? Describe them.”

  Rainy sat up a little straighter; that wasn’t Tara’s question, it was hers, but for some reason, Braithe had thought her best friend had written it. Why?

  “He was, like, so handsome,” Braithe said to the room.

  “Stephen is still handsome!” Ursa called from behind a piece of Mac’s hair.

  “Just real easy to be around, you know?”

  And now it seemed to Rainy that Braithe was talking to herself more than any of them.

  “We were just around each other and it was this energy, like putting spit to pop rocks.”

  “Oh, ew,” Tara laughed. “Can you not wax poetic about bodily fluids?”

  “So you...popped?” Mac asked, clearly unsure of herself. Her eyes were still red from crying, but thanks to Ursa, she was starting to look like...Ursa. Waves framed her face, easing some roundness into her square jaw; with a little bronzer and wet lips, she’d be set for the twinsie life.

  “We popped and we meshed, and he was this perfect combination of Chandler from Friends and that guy from The Notebook. Like, superfunny and snarky and comfortable with his obsession with me. We were obsessed with each other—”

  “What’s The Notebook?” Mac asked. But no one answered her; they were waiting for Braithe to keep talking. Now that she’s going she’s really going, Rainy thought. But this was her favorite topic, even if she was hesitant to admit it: love.

  “And he’d do this thing where he’d rub little circles on my palm to tell me he wanted me, and like, wherever we were he’d do that and we’d just go running out like—”

  “Two horny kids?” Rainy finished for her.

  “Yeah,” she said, and her mouth curled up in a secret pleasure as she traced over her memories in front of them.

  “Um, so are you not talking about Stephen?” Mac’s face was genuinely confused.

  “Have you ever loved anyone other than Bryan? Hush,” Tara said, but not unkindly; Mac was like everyone’s little sister.

  “I’m more of a Christian Grey fan myself,” Ursa said. “I need you to spank me, not read me stories in a nursing home.”

  “Your turn,” Braithe said as she pushed the ice bucket toward Ursa, who was finished with Mac’s hair.

  Ursa reached in, her hand, with its candy-colored nails, drawing out the second-to-last question. Rainy watched her eyes scan the paper and widen considerably. When she read it out loud for the rest of them, she was trying not to laugh.

  “Have you ever...squirted?”

  It sounded like a series of murders were taking place all at the same time. Rainy joined the choir of screams and screeches and then laughed behind her hand as Ursa recounted her the story of the first time she’d done it (freshman year of college with a premed major).

  “And he explained the whole thing in medical terms. I legit thought I was dying of an STI. No one had ever told me about it—”

  Rainy stopped listening, remembering that her turn was next. So had that been Tara’s question or Braithe’s? she thought, doing the math. There wasn’t long to think on it because they were done asking Ursa their prying questions and ready to sink their teeth into Rainy.

  They didn’t even bother to pass her the ice bucket. Braithe dug the last piece of paper out and passed it to Rainy without looking at her. She was still engaged in the conversation, pointing a finger at Ursa as she said, “It is not right that a man had to explain that to you!”

  It was stupid, but Rainy’s palms began to sweat.

  Unfolding the slip, she mumbled out the words as soon as she saw them and felt herself immediately go cold. Her voice abruptly cut off and Mac asked her to repeat the question. Rainy read it again, slowly this time.

  “Have you ever been married before?”

  “Um...weird,” Ursa said. “We all know each other’s dating history.”

  “Not so weird,” Tara piped up. “We don’t know very much about Rainy, since she’s our newest.”

  On cue, they all looked at Rainy, who was still reeling and desperately wanting there to be an earthquake at that very moment to end this game and suck them all into the ground.

  “I—”

  Had they done this on purpose, included that question for her? But how could they know what had almost happened to her? And how could they know that she would draw that question?

  Her heart was pounding, and a familiar panic was rising in her throat. If she gave anything away, they’d know the truth before Grant did.

  “No.” The word rolled from her tongue, firm and hard like a boiled sweet. It was easier than she expected it to be, though her heart was hammering around in her chest. Rainy, who had spent many years learning to be silent, chose that approach now. Sitting squarely and blinking lazily, she stared at them as they stared at her. When no more words were said, the room took on a weird energy. The white living room with its white furniture blurred in and out of focus. Rainy wanted to stand up and leave. She was almost relieved when Tara spoke, but her relief curdled as soon as the words were out of Tara’s mouth.

  “When do you and Grant think you’ll tie the knot?”

  The knot that formed in Rainy’s belly was not the same as the knot Tara meant.

  Momentarily tongue-tied, she stumbled over her words before saying, “We’re not sure we will. I...er...I’m not so much a fan of the whole thing...?” The end of her sentence seemed to drop off in a question. Stupid, stupid Rainy.

  Tara raised her eyebrows before glancing around the table to gauge everyone else’s response to this bit of news. To Rainy, she looked hungry as she searched their faces. Ursa and Mac, satisfied with her answer and already bored, looked indifferent. Marriage wasn’t a thing anymore; if people didn’t choose it, it was no big deal. They’d moved on, game over. Braithe and Tara were the only ones still looking at her, and Braithe’s eyebrows were drawn in what Rainy could only assume was concern.

  “Does Grant want to get married?”

  Tara was really pushing it with these questions. Rainy felt herself nearing anger as she licked her lips and lied again.

  “No. We’re on the same page.”

  Braithe gave her an odd look, like she knew Rainy was lying, and she probably did—she’d known Grant since they were teenagers. He’d no doubt expressed his desire to get married at least a couple times over the twenty years of their friendship. Her next words surprised Rainy, however. “Not everyone wants to get married, Tara,” Braithe said tightly. Tara shrugged, but there was a small grin on her lips that Rainy didn’t miss. Had they spoken about this together, the possibility of Rainy and Grant getting married? She supposed they had. After all, they’d known Grant longer than she had, and it was only normal to speculate about your friends’ love lives.

  “Game over.” Braithe stood up, stretching. “We need to get ready.”

  * * *

  Getting ready, for Rainy, involved a three-minute shower, putting on an uncomplicated outfit and mascara.

  “We’re gonna be a while, Rainy,” Braithe said, looking embarrassed. She had no makeup on yet, and she was wearing one of the hotel gowns. A hair dryer roared to life in one of the rooms, and Ursa began wandering around in a towel, looking for her curling iron. It was female chaos.

  She should have taken a longer shower, washed her hair, put on a more complicated outfit...but the trouble was, Rainy didn’t know how to take a long time to do things; she rushed through everything, which made her feel like she was failing at being a woman. These women were part of a ritual that she didn’t understand: bonding through talk and preparation.

  It’s just not how you grew up, she thought, and then flinched. Sara always seeped into her memory when she was in a group of women, even when she tried to keep her out. The normalcy of these women, talking and laughing together, made her long for something she hadn’t allowed herself since then...since Sara.

  “The shops and bars downstairs are great if you want to get started without us.” Braithe’s voice pulled her out of her feelings, dropping her into less complicated ones. They were trying to get rid of her. Did she care?

  “I’ll go walk around for a bit,” she offered, standing up. If they wanted to talk about her, let them. They needed to dissect her answers to the game, right? Well, she needed space.

  “I’ll text you when we’re heading down,” Braithe called to her.

  Grabbing her bag, Rainy chewed the inside of her cheek as she made her way to the door. The sounds she left behind were familiar, the sounds female friends made when they were together. Happy sounds. And more importantly, their sounds; she was not included.

  When she saw how crowded the lobby was, she decided to wait downstairs in the hotel bar instead of fighting her way through the bodies that clogged the hallways. Soon, she was sipping a beer and watching the TV as an excited meteorologist updated them on the storm. She hadn’t liked the vibe in the group since they’d arrived at the hotel, but that was probably just her. God, if she had to be here, she wished it were with Grant. She stared at her phone, willing him to text, but knowing it wouldn’t happen for another few hours. She’d marry him if she could. It was that simple. But these women didn’t get to weigh in on that.

  Things are weird, she texted Viola.

  Stop it. Try to have fun.

  She nodded, as if Viola could see her. She put her phone away and drained her beer.

  “You need another?”

  She jumped, then relaxed when she saw it was just the bartender. He was middle-aged with a receding hairline that was charming on his angular face.

  “Another beer?” He pointed to her empty glass. He had a New England accent and he looked like a talker.

  “Nah, switch me to your cocktail of the night, if that’s okay.”

  He nodded. “I made this one up myself. It’s on the sweeter side if that’s okay...?” He was mimicking her, but in a friendly way.

  She gave him a thumbs-up and he came back two minutes later with brown sludge in a martini glass.

  “Coffee-flavored,” she said, taking a sip. “It’s good.”

  “You know where I get that? Rhode Island, baby. It’s coffee syrup. Grew up on that stuff. I call that a New England Russian. I tried this out on another guy who came in here, and he loved it. Makes sense—he was from New England, too.”

  “Coffee syrup?” She said it out loud, though she hadn’t meant to. She’d heard that before...

  He showed her the bottle and Rainy had a sudden, dizzying sense of déjà vu.