Page 38 of Fake As Puck
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“The guys are meeting at Reed’s place before the wedding. Nothing fancy, just hanging out, having a few beers.”
“Sounds fun.”
“They’re going to love you.”
“I hope so.”
“They will. Trust me.”
We drive to Reed’s house in comfortable silence, and I try to prepare myself for what’s about to happen. In about five minutes, I’m going to walk into a room full of professional hockey players and pretend to be West’s girlfriend.
No pressure.
Reed’s house is in one of those neighborhoods where every lawn is perfect, and every house looks like it belongs in a magazine. West parks in the driveway behind several other expensive cars, and I take a deep breath.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Just... nervous.”
“Don’t be. They’re good guys. A little loud, but good guys.”
“What if they don’t believe we’re dating?”
“They’ll believe it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I can barely believe we’re not dating.”
He says it so quietly I almost don’t hear it, and before I can respond, he’s getting out of the car.
We walk up to the front door together, and he takes my hand without thinking about it. His palm is slightly sweaty, which is comforting my nerves.
“Here we go,” he says, and knocks on the door.
The door swings open to reveal a tall guy with dark hair and a huge grin.
“There they are!” he says, pulling West into a hug. “And this must be the girlfriend.”
“Reed, this is Liv. Liv, Reed.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, extending my hand.
“Fuck that,” Reed says, pulling me into a hug. “We’re huggers here. Come on in, you two. Everyone’s in the living room.”
We walk into a house that’s clearly been decorated by someone with strong opinions about color coordination and throw pillows. The living room is full of large men holding beer bottles and talking loudly about something that’s probably sports-related.
“Guys!” Reed announces. “West’s here, and he brought the mysterious girlfriend.”
The room goes quiet, and suddenly I’m the center of attention for six of the largest humans I’ve ever seen in person.
“There she is,” says a guy with blond hair and a smile that probably gets him in trouble. “We were wondering where West’s been hiding you.”
“Damn, West,” says another one. “No wonder you’ve been keeping her to yourself.”
“Shut up, Hurley,” West says, but he’s smiling. His hand finds the small of my back, and I can feel him standing a little taller.
