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Curious, I oblige and set my drinks on the table in front of me.
“I’m Graham,” the blond states, offering a hand.
I shake it, noticing a firm grip but not enough to cut off circulation.
“Peter,” the stocky dark-skinned guy says.
“James,” the third man, a bit on the slight side, offers with a slight nod.
“So, are you in, Evelyn?” Foster asks, teasing.
“Fozzie,” I chide in warning. “Is your brain broken?”
“Nope, it’s on overdrive.” He scoots closer to the table.
“How do you two know each other?” Graham questions.
“We both work at the library.” I take a drink of beer.
“You don’t look like the typical engineering major,” James states, openly judging me.
“She’s not,” Foster interjects. “She’s an art major, slumming it with me.”
“Art history,” I correct him even though I wish his statement were true. “I’m minoring in art.”
“And communications,” Foster adds.
“No, I’m not. Where did you get that idea?”
“From your conversational techniques. Why else would you ask a guy about his masturbation habits the first time you meet him?”
Every set of eyes at the table lands on me.
“She did not,” Graham hoots.
“She most definitely did.” Foster leans his elbows on the wooden surface. “Her communication skills are like no one’s I’ve ever known. So, are we going to play or what?”
“That’s highly advised,” says James. “Anything, so I can stop visualizing you whacking off.”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t do it all the time anyhow,” Foster taunts.
“All right, you two,” Peter says. “We’re playing now. Where were we?”
“We were just about to start on actinides,” Graham states. “And James is up.”
Oh, shit, what kind of nerdfest did I just sit down to?
“Are you in, EJ?” Graham asks me.
“I don’t think so. I have no freaking clue what an actinide even is.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. “Unless it’s some sort of anti-blemish cream for horny and overly hormonal teenagers, I think it’s best I sit this one out.”
Again, all eyes land on me.
“Now, you have to play,” Foster states, grinning like a fool and patting my hand. “If nothing else, I need to hear your answers. That explanation of actinide was perfection.”
“Right,” I say sarcastically. “Fine. I’ll play your silly drinking game. First, explain to me the reason we’re talking about acne medicine and then tell me the rules.”
Foster purses his mouth. “The actinides series of metals on the periodic table of elements—”
