Between Friends

Chapter 2

Ouch! My temples are pounding! I roll onto my side and put both hands to my head. I apply pressure to prevent my brain from exploding due to my vodka hangover, and it doesn’t help matters when persistent beeps blare from my alarm clock. With much effort, I whack the snooze button and groggily sit up on my bed. The neon lights flash five-thirty in the morning and cause me to let out a monstrous moan. Great. I have to be at the airport in less than two hours. I flip off my covers and gasp when I realize I’m naked. I whip my head around, hazily remembering the events of last night.

Please don’t let him be here. Please, Please, Please.

I rip away my sheets and wrap myself in a cocoon of silk. I am stunned silent when I see Ben lying on my bed in nothing but his birthday suit. His muscular back stretches down from my pillow straight into the middle of my mattress. I stand over my bed, frozen and unable to move. My stomach churns as I watch him peacefully sleeping with his arm draped over the side of my bed.

I exhale and force my eyes shut, trying to shake away my thoughts – this was a big mistake. I rarely make such irrationally impulsive decisions, for the exact reason I would never want to be feeling what I am right now. Regret.

More than anything I want to rewind the events of last night and erase them forever. But I know it is too late. My whole life I prided myself on not being “that girl” who had meaningless one night stands. Instead, I restricted my love making abilities to serious boyfriends only. Even amongst our group of friends, they pinned me as the mother hen and the girl with her head on her shoulders. I was proud to say at twenty-four years old, I had only slept with three men (all serious boyfriends) and nothing in between. Unlike my other two girlfriends, Stephanie and Michelle, who went through more men than underwear, I never once had a random drunken sexual encounter. But even though it was petty, I felt like I had accomplished something they hadn’t.

When my last boyfriend, Marco, dumped me, my friend Stephanie suggested that to get over him, I should let loose and experience the thrill of sleeping with a stranger. I laughed and told her even though I didn’t believe in love, I did believe in self-respect and self-discipline. I graciously thanked her for her unwanted insight into my love life, and said that didn’t really excite me. Stephanie rolled her eyes and said, “Ohmigod Megan. When are you ever going to live a little?” I snapped back that I did live a little, just not with weird random men sweating all over my body. But for some reason, as I stare at Ben, he may as well be a perfectly good stranger snuggled up against my pillow.

I sheepishly glance at my reflection in the mirrored closet doors across my bed. We had no business being so irresponsible about our friendship, and even less business doing something so stupid the day before our best friend’s wedding. But I smugly decide even though I am disgusted with my behaviour, against all odds after a drunken night of meaningless sex, I am having a really good hair day coupled with natural rosy glow. I kick myself from the inside, and note even though the aftermath of this “mistake” has left me feeling slightly flush and looking better than usual, it will never happen again.

When Ben rolls over, he stretches his chiselled arms across my pillows. I hold my breath and watch him flutter his eyes open. When he sees me, he turns about fifty shades of red and pulls my comforter up to his chin.

“Good morning,” He nervously chuckles, “Sleep well?”

I quickly look away and walk over to my bathroom door dragging my sheets behind me. I turn around, lean against the doorway and coldly say, “I think you should go.”

Ben throws the comforter off from his body, this time with no shame. I force my eyes shut, completely embarrassed and now fully aware of exactly why I am in so much pain down there. I can hear him slide on his pants and buckle his belt, so I peek through one eye grateful he is throwing on his tight black shirt over his smooth muscular chest. He catches a glimpse of the clock on my nightstand, and feels the need to state the obvious, “Wow it’s early. I guess we have to be on a plane in a couple of hours don’t we?”

“Listen,” I snap cutting right to the chase, annoyed by his casual banter. Ben looks up at me and flops down on my bed to put on his socks, “This was a mistake and it will never happen again.”

Ben bites his lip and nods in agreement before he mumbles out, “Fine by me.”

“Please don’t tell anyone about this. Let’s just pretend it never happened.” I plead.

“You’re the one with the big mouth, not me.” Ben snaps.

“I don’t think so.” I shout tossing my impeccable locks to the side.

“Ah I think so.” Ben mocks as he wrangles on his last sock, “Didn’t you once tell me you and Jessica share everything with each other? Didn’t you say it’s like some golden rule of sisterhood or some garbage like that?”

I look down at the ground and feel myself begin to blush. I hate how he remembers every little thing I tell him! Because even though Jessica and I do happen to share everything, this event is an absolute exception to the rule.

I finally look up, and lock eyes with Ben still patiently sitting on my bed. It feels like time stands still, until he looks away and rudely adds, “Do me a favour when we are in Costa Rica, remind me not to pound back the rum. I wouldn’t want to be flipping coins with just anybody.”

“Very funny” I snort, and pull up on the silk sheets wrapped around my body.

He rolls his eyes at my stoic face and shakes his head. I watch him stand up and methodically walk to my doorway. He runs his fingers through his thick dark hair and glances back at me. His mouth slightly parts, and he looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t.

“Nothing has changed between us, right?” I desperately shout.

“Of course not,” Ben says as he places his hand on the brass knob. “Don’t worry Megan. If that is what you want, mum’s the word” He runs his fingers across his lips, and pretends to zip them shut before he walks out of my bedroom.

Less than ten minutes later, I have brewed a pot a coffee and hopped in the shower. I wish more than anything the steamy little details from our so-called “mistake” would stop sneaking up on me; like both of us laughing away as we stumbled up the stairwell and busted through the door of my condo, or Ben thrusting me up against the kitchen wall to meet his soft lips with mine, or Ben slamming me down on the couch and ripping off my shirt, and finally us breaking into my bedroom and sealing the deal.

I shudder and scrub myself down with my loofa. I can only hope the more water that washes over me, will rinse away those thoughts forever. But without any luck, by the time I am dried off and back in my bedroom I can’t stop replaying the night in my mind. Just seeing my sheets mangled all over my bed makes me flush and ache inside. I so desperately want to shake away the part of me that actually liked what happened between us, especially because it feels so weird and wrong. I couldn’t possibly have feelings like that for Ben. He is my best friend.

I start to brush out my wet and tangled hair, when a memory flashes in my mind. It was New Year’s Eve and our last year of university. Stephanie and Michelle had somehow convinced Jessica to ditch Michael for the night, which meant it would strictly be us girls. Therefore, I was forced to wear stiletto heels, green eye shadow, and an uncomfortably short jean mini-skirt that was one size too small.

I was totally out of my element. I wished we could have stayed in and given each other manicures and pedicures, while watching Dick Clark’s Countdown with a big bowl of popcorn. Besides, it was abnormally cold outside, and I had just started casually seeing Marco, who at the time I was head over heels for. I also had no intentions of “picking up tonight” as Stephanie casually stated, while she smeared on a bright red layer lipstick.

Once we made it to a club called The Cove, Michelle was the first one to drunkenly stumble out of the cab, and landed face first on the concrete. I immediately stepped into mother hen mode, and suggested we bring her back to our apartment. Stephanie, in her drunken stupor told me to shut-up and relax. She bent down and unknowingly flashed a row of sorority boys her butt cheeks, while helping me bring Michelle to her feet. Jessica was so preoccupied on her cell phone that she hadn’t even heard a word I said. I tugged her arm and said Michelle had too much to drink, and insisted we bring her back to the apartment.

Jessica flipped her phone shut and slapped Michelle playfully across the face, “Just get her some water. It’s New Year’s Eve Megan. Stop being such a prude.”

Once we were inside, the booming music vibrated against the walls and swallowed any sort of voice that tried to escape our lips. Immediately Stephanie and Michelle hit the dance floor and grinded amongst the sweaty mosh-pit of people busting a move. I absolutely refused to join them and had Jessica escort me up to the bar to get a drink. While I waited for our order, Jessica stood off to the side, still engulfed in her cell phone sending a streamline of text messages. Within minutes, Michael appeared with Ben and their other two friends Matthew and Eric.

Right away I knew Jessica had been texting Michael the whole time, and meeting him there was her plan all along. While part of me was annoyed by her sneaky antics, the other part of me was actually quite pleased to see them, especially Ben. As the night progressed, Jessica and Michael eventually disappeared, leaving me to play babysitter to Stephanie and Michelle, while Matthew, Eric and Ben sat up at the bar drinking beer. I had to admit, the countdown wasn’t the same without Dick Clark and a warm blanket, but as the DJ shouted out the remaining seconds to midnight, I was thankful for everything in my life, including my friends.

With an explosion of confetti all over the club, people were hugging and kissing all around us. Matthew and Michelle, who for years had been on again off again, were making out on the dance floor. Eric and Stephanie laughed, and gave each other a friendly hug. Then they switched off to share one with Ben and I. But, when no one was looking, Ben leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You look great.”

For a second he lingered there, which made me a tad-bit uneasy as his breath tickled my ear. I pulled away, but he just smiled at me with a weird gleam in his eye. I smiled back and raised my glass to cheers him. Moments later, Eric suggested we leave the club and continue the party at his place. Stephanie and Michelle agreed, while I decided I wanted to go home to bed. Everyone moaned at my bail out, but as far as I was concerned when the clock struck midnight, New Year’s was over.

We bounced outside into the cool night air and hailed down two cabs. I stepped into my cab alone, but as I was calling out my address to the cab driver, Ben grabbed the door and stuck his head in, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Aren’t you going to Eric’s?” I asked completely confused.

Ben just stood there, silently hovering with his lips slightly parted. I waited for him to say something more, but he didn’t. I shifted on the dirty squishy seat, feeling the cool winter breeze gush into the cab and nip at my bare legs. I pulled down on my uncomfortably short skirt and asked, “Can you close the door now?”

Ben let out a sigh and slid into the cab. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek then mumbled, “Happy New Year’s Megan.” Without another word, he popped out onto the sidewalk and slammed my cab door shut.

I never thought much of what happened that night until right now. For some strange reason, as that trivial moment replays itself over and over in my mind, I find myself seeing it in a whole new light. Could he have been trying to see if there was more than friendship between us? I laugh out loud just thinking how ridiculous that sounds, even after we just stupidly slept together. Ben would never like me like that. He knows I am just a plain-Jane closet dork who likes all the Planet of the Apes movies (originals only) and doing crossword puzzles in the Sunday paper.

I am forced to snap back to reality as my cell phone repeatedly vibrates on my nightstand.

“Hello?”

“What are you doing?” Jessica’s voice booms into my ear.

“I just got out of the shower. I’m ready. Almost at the door.” I lie, and notice we have less than twenty minutes to get to the airport on time.

“Well I am at your door,” Jessica shouts, “Now open up.”

I quickly fix my bed and inhale a whiff of Ben’s over sprayed cologne as I flip up my sheets. I race out of my bedroom, fling open my front door and let Jessica step inside the dark interior.

Jessica is perfectly groomed with her long blonde hair loosely curled at her shoulders. She is wearing oversized sunglasses and a gigantic travel bag that dangles from her forearm. She pushes past me and examines my living room with a curious eye. Suddenly I think she knows everything and is about to call Ben and I out on our big secret. She even brushes her hand along my sofa (in the exact same spot where Ben tugged off the bottom of my pants). I gulp, toss my wet hair into a messy bun and follow her into my bedroom.

“Aren’t we going to be late?” I nervously chuckle.

Jessica flops down on my bed, places her head between her hands and lets out a roar of a sigh. I sit down beside her, worried she is going to tell me someone died. But instead, she looks at me with tears in the corner of her bright blue eyes, “I tried on my dress last night, and I hate it. I think it’s too tight!”

Jessica has always been known to be a tad overdramatic. I almost burst out laughing at her trivial bridal dilemma. She is no more than a size zero, making it nearly impossible for her to look bad in anything she puts on. More importantly, I know for a fact her dress fits her like a glove. I am the one who spent countless hours with her and her doting mother shopping for wedding gowns. It was ninety-four dresses later on Saturday, May seventeenth at one fifteen in the afternoon, at the tenth bridal shop of the day, when Jessica was more than smitten with her gorgeous ten thousand dollar gown when she said, “Say Yes to the Dress.”

“Well?” Jessica shouts, jumping me in to full maid-of-honour mode.

“You could call off the whole wedding,” I joke and give her a playful nudge.

Jessica narrows her eyes at me and crosses her arms over her well-endowed chest, “This is a big deal Megan. Everything needs to be perfect. This isn’t supposed to be happening right now!” She lets out an exasperated sigh and throws herself back on my bed.

“Jessica, please. How could you not look amazing in anything you put on?” I say and pat her leg for encouragement, “Besides, Michael wouldn’t care if you walked down the aisle in a paper bag. He would still marry you.”

Jessica sits up and taps her finger on her lips, "You’re right. I do look fabulous in just about everything.” She gives me a tiny hug before her gaze darts across the room, “Where’s the checklist?”

My panic button goes off. I haven’t seen the checklist since I left my house last night to meet Ben. I fumble my words; until Jessica catches on that I don’t know where it is. She gets up and starts whizzing around my room in search of her infamous checklist. I too, begin searching, until I happily catch a glimpse of it crumpled up on my suitcase in the corner of my room. When I reach down to pull it up, I hear Jessica’s voice perk up, “Whose hat is this?”

Oh no.

I slowly raise my head up and face Jessica with a nervous smile. In a desperate attempt to distract her, I wave the checklist out in the open. But Jessica isn’t easily fooled. She pops out her hips, holding Ben’s baseball cap by her skinny index finger. I walk over to her and snatch his hat, trading her off by shoving the checklist at her.

“Well?” she laughs with a devilish grin, “Whose hat is it?”

“It’s nobody’s” I shout and storm over to my suitcase. I zip it shut and stuff Ben’s hat into the drawer on my nightstand.

“It’s Marco’s isn’t it?” Jessica whines and forces her hands to his hips.

“You caught me.” I lie and roll my luggage out of my bedroom. Jessica follows me, not letting me get away that easily.

“You know I am trying to set you up with my cousin Steven. How many times have I told you?” Jessica scolds, “He is all excited about getting to know you in Costa Rica. You can’t be sleeping with Marco again if I introduce you.”

Oh great. I totally forgot about Jessica’s grand plans to set me up with her recently divorced, thirty-year old cousin Steven the doctor.

“I’m not sleeping with him.” I reassure her.

“Then what’s his hat doing here? In your bedroom?” Jessica persists by pressing her hand against my front door and blocking our exit.

“He came to talk. That’s all.” I lie as my heart races. I tilt my head to the side and hope I have satisfied her unnecessary inquisition.

"I sure hope so.” Jessica says giving me the stink eye.

“Can we please go?” I sigh and push her out of the way.

Jessica purses her lips together and places her moment of judgment. She removes her hand from my door and says, “Alright, but you better not be lying to me.”

I yank the door open and silently curse Ben for leaving his hat here.