Between Friends

Chapter 4

Just pinch me. How could this paradise actually be my reality? The rolling hills and luscious greenery is the perfect backdrop to the gorgeous villas spread out across the resort. The shuttle winds down the cobblestone roads, and takes us on a scenic tour of the impressive grounds. I sit back and let my hair blow in the calm winds and listen to the sound of exotic birds chirping in the distance. My eyes widen to the sight of iguanas crawling through the grass and my ears perk up to monkeys howling in the trees. I am perfectly overwhelmed by the beauty of the vined and twisted trees and the scorching sun, because all these things make me feel like I am immersed my own private jungle.

When the shuttle stops, the driver jumps out and hands us girls our luggage. He points to a massive villa overlooking a ravine, with stork-like birds bathing in its water. He swipes our key card and pushes open the double paned glass doors. Stephanie and Michelle funnel inside, oohing and aweing over our extravagant amenities. I stay back, thank our driver and hand him a few dollar bills. As the shuttle begins to pull away, I wave goodbye to Matthew, Eric and Ben, still packed on board, pounding back their welcome drinks.

Ben gives me a subtle wink and flashes his pearly white grin as they take off down the road. I don’t know why, but his actions send a prickling sensation up the back of my knees and make me feel a bit weak. Luckily, Stephanie squeals distracts me, and it reminds me to exhale.

“Hey Megan get in here! This fridge is stocked!” Stephanie shouts as I roll my luggage into our villa.

Michelle and Stephanie have already broken into the bar fridge. They rummage through with their perfectly manicured nails and pull out a few cans of beer. They giggle together at their findings and ask me if I want one, but I politely decline and start to unzip my suitcase. Michelle thrusts one at me, and insists that I have to have one. I shake my head and push her away. She rolls her eyes and waves her free hand in the air, “Oh Megan, lighten up.”

Michelle briskly walks across our room, and immediately yanks out her makeup case while Stephanie plugs in her straightening iron. They prop themselves in front of the full-length mirror, and debate on using bronzer or blush for tonight’s dinner plans. Stephanie reaches back into her luggage, pulls out a tight fitting coral dress, and holds it up to her chest, “Well? What do you girls think? Is this the dress for tonight? Or should I wear something a little more risky?”

I shrug and say it’s nice, and continue to unpack. Michelle on the other hand, furrows her brow and taps her index finger over her lips. A few minutes pass before she suggests, “I think you should go for something a little more island style.”

I turn around and roll my eyes when Stephanie nods in agreement, because we aren’t even on an island! We are in Central America!

I force myself away from their vain happenings, and sort out our three bride-maids dresses thrown on the sofa. I toss them over my forearm and neatly hang them up in the closet to ensure they don’t wrinkle. I am clipping the last hanger in place when I hear the phone ring. I shout out to Stephanie and Michelle to answer it, but they don’t hear me over their continual chitchat. I slam the closet door shut, tumble across the marble floor, trip over the straightening iron cord, and finally bounce off the sofa. Somehow, I manage to clasp the phone in my hand, just in time to muster a hello. I rub my bruised ribs and hear Jessica on the line.

“Don’t forget our dinner reservations are at seven o’clock sharp.” Jessica says and then switches to a hushed whisper, “Listen Megan, I am counting on you. Please make sure Michelle and Stephanie, do not get too drunk before we meet everyone for dinner.”

I glance over into the bathroom and see Stephanie shotgun a beer, while Michelle laughs and cheers her on. I heave out a heavy sigh, “Honestly Jessica, I can’t promise anything.”

“Megan!” Jessica whines, “Michael’s parents are way too uptight for any kind of stupidity. As my maid of honor it is your duty to make sure this night isn’t a total disaster.”

I bite down on my nails a tad bit worried about this sudden responsibility, because I know Stephanie and Michelle never listen to a word I say. Then just as we are about to get off the phone, Jessica adds, “Oh, and don’t forget to put on something sexy. Steven will be there. You don’t want to disappoint.”

I hang up the phone and feel a churn of unease in my stomach. I am so confused by what to do about Steven, because this whole Ben thing is tearing me up inside. Adding another man into the mix is surely going to confuse the hell out of me. I should really just come clean and tell Jessica everything that happened between Ben and I last night. She would know what to do.

No! Don’t be ridiculous! Ben is your friend, not boyfriend. You have a real chance at a normal relationship with a guy like Steven. Don’t mess it up!

Fine. My subconscious is right. I will keep this burdening secret to myself. Who am I kidding? Ben is the last guy in the world who wants to settle down and have an actual relationship. He has been with so many women that even I have lost count. If I told Jessica, she would scold me for even thinking Ben and I could possibly cross over from the friendship zone. I know she would happily remind me he takes pride in picking up random women from the bar and sleeping with them on the same night. She would also remind me his longest relationship was less than a year old and he never once bought her a bouquet of flowers.

My head becomes light just thinking about the pickle I have gotten myself in. I know I am not looking to get married or anything like that, but the closer I get to my twenty-fifth birthday, the more I want to have a meaningful and committed relationship. If Jessica were giving me advice right now, I have no doubt in my mind that she would insist I drop my irrational feelings for Ben, and focus my energy on someone like Steven, who can give me what I am looking for.

Blah! I hate how the truth hurts. I need to lock myself in the bathroom and have a serious one on one with the mirror.

The last time I did this was when I lost my virginity. My high school boyfriend Donny and I were in his room making out when he slipped his hand up my shirt. I clamped down on his arm and stopped him inches away from my nipple. I knew this was the cross over from first base, all the way to home plate. Something about that made me want to think things through before I took the final plunge. I quickly sat up and told Donny I needed to use the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror, just like I am doing right now and asked myself a few key questions.

Did I think I loved Donny? That answer was simple. Yes I did.

Did Donny love me? That answer was a tad more complicated. Even though he had never muttered anything close to the word love, we had dated for over a year, so I decided he must.

Finally I asked myself, if I were to look back on this decision ten years from now, would I have thought I made the right decision? Unfortunately, that was the question I would never know the answer to. I hummed and hawed over this debate in front of the mirror and perked up my tiny boobs and fixed my flat hair. Minutes later, I made my final decision to ultimately lose my virginity on a twin mattress, beside an open bag of Doritos, while an episode of the Simpson’s blared on his old bedroom TV.

But right now, I think my questions are a tad more complicated than they were over losing my V-card. The first question I ask myself is: What are my honest feelings about Ben? But not even as I stare into the golden-framed mirror, to admire my freshly waxed eyebrows can I find the answer. Before last night I would have honestly said we were friends, the best of friends, and nothing more. But why can’t I shake the fact that despite how weird and strange it was to be with Ben that way, I can’t get him out of my mind.

Jessica once told me that drunken words are sober thoughts. Could that be the same for drunken actions? Could they be sober wants? If that’s the case, I am petrified because I know exactly what my drunk-self wanted that night – Ben inside me. This realization makes me nervously laugh to myself like some crazy person. I press my hands onto the granite counter top and look for some sort of deep inner reflection to help me sort out my humble jumbled brain of emotions, but nothing happens. Instead I feel myself break out into a sweat and a full body tremble.

I rub my hands over my face to ease the tension and ask myself a scarier question: Could Ben like me as more than a friend? That answer unfortunately is jaded by the truth. He couldn’t possibly. I’m sure the only reason he propositioned me with that coin toss, was only because he was a drunk and horny mess from being stood up by his mystery date. I was just Plan B. Uggh! I am so naïve! He is such a pig, and now I am just another one of his piglets. What was I thinking? More importantly, what am I thinking right now? Why am I even questioning Ben’s intentions? He has slept with a million women and has never had a serious girlfriend in all the years I’ve known him.

Besides, Ben and I could never be a couple. Everything is too familiar. I know everything about him. Where is the intrigue in that? I already know he hates reality TV and that he insists boxer briefs are the greatest invention for the male anatomy, or that he prefers to wash dishes by hand instead of shoving them in the dishwasher for the environments sake. This is the same guy who lets out strange sounding bubble farts, sneaks in his own candy bars at movie theatres, and insists that spending countless hours on The Chive is considered an actual hobby. Am I going crazy? No, what I need to do is just let what happened between us go and get over it. Besides, I am sure he has.

I let out a huge sigh, in fear that I might be getting too deep with myself. Instead I ask myself a final question: Am I still open to meeting Steven?

There is no second guessing this answer, it is simple. Yes I am. I am open to meeting Steven for my own sanity. I deserve a real man who will like me even if my A cups do not measure up to his preferred fake D cups, or a man who will enjoy my good humored wit over his past mundane ditsy exes. So therefore, Ben is out and Steven is in. Not only because I know Jessica would think so, but because I need to find someone who unlike Ben will actually take me on a real first date and make the proper attempt to have a normal grown up relationship.

“Let me in, I have to pee!” Stephanie whines and breaks me away from my thoughts as she rattles the bathroom knob.

“Just a minute” My voice shakes and I wipe away the few tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I can’t help but feel I am being a tad melodramatic, which is never endearing when millions of other people all over the world have much greater issues than discovering that maybe they have deeper feelings than they once expected towards their best and longest male friend. I turn myself around and unlock the door, letting Stephanie hurdle herself through. She pinches her legs together and does a dance-like saunter over to the toilet.

“You’re not wearing that are you?” She laughs as she points to my less than flattering plain white sundress. I glance down at my half-assed approach to what is clearly lacking sex appeal on all levels. I shrug with my last and final attempt at self-pity.

“Michelle, get in here!” She shouts and squats on the toilet. Michelle appears in the doorway wearing a sexy high-low hem dress with a purple toned eye-catching print. It showcases her best assets, paired with a killer pair of this season’s sky-high black suede sandals by Jill Stuart. Her long blonde hair is swept to the side in a subtle bun, revealing her dangling jeweled earrings that make her ooze of sexuality.

“Ohmigod” Michelle says, placing her hands rigidly against her hips, “Megan, please tell me you packed a decent selection of dresses and booty shorts for this trip.”

“We are just going out for dinner.” I whine and fold my arms over my chest then lean against the sink.

Stephanie gets up from the toilet, and I finally get a better look at her. She looks great too! Her auburn locks are loosely curled, and she is wearing a cute black and white striped jersey dress. It clutches her body in all the right places, but it is her bright red wedges that shine, adding the perfect finishing touch to her sleek look.

“This is a celebration Megan.” Stephanie chimes in, “Please let us do your makeup and dress you.” She claps her hands together and drops down to her knees. I roll my eyes, but reluctantly agree - only because Jessica specifically told me to kick it up a notch.

A bunch of pawing and priming of my hair and makeup, followed by a million wardrobe changes and I am finally ready for my big reveal. Michelle’s iPod’s playlist titled Old Skool, is ironically blaring Avril Lavingne’s “Complicated” as they shuffle me in front of the full-length mirror. Michelle leads the way, covering my eyes with her hand. I trip my way across the marble floor, since I am now wearing what feels like six-inch heels. Finally, I hear Michelle and Stephanie shout “Ta-Da!”

Michelle removes her hand so I can finally see my new ensemble.

I am shocked silent. I poke at my bronze infused cheeks making sure that it really is me I am staring at in the mirror. Stephanie and Michelle are both smiling from ear to ear, expectantly waiting for my loud squeal of joy over their superb makeover abilities. But instead, I take in everything they have done, which is above and beyond anything I would have done myself. Number one being the use of eyeliner to accentuate a smoky eye, combined with the application of a glossy pink lipstick. They loosely curled my hair and pinned my long brown locks to the side, which even I have to admit looks fabulous.

After trying on countless dresses, I am gob-smacked by what they decided to put me in. I listened to Stephanie and Michelle argue over two potential choices, but Michelle ended up winning and dressed me in a black and teal leopard-printed cocktail dress highlighted with flecks of white. She insisted it created the illusion I actually had some cleavage, which now I have to admit, she was right. Then Stephanie interjected, to top off my look, by adding glossy black accessories to match the elevated platform peep-toe pumps for my finishing touch.

“Well say something!” Stephanie shouts stomping her foot on the ground.

“I look hot!” I squeal and for one of the first times ever, I engage in a ridiculously girly moment of shrieking and hugging with Stephanie and Michelle.

“You look like a million bucks.” Michelle confirms, giving me a full once-over before handing me a small black clutch.

A shuttle ride across the vast resort, and we end up at one of the ten a-la-carte restaurants looking over the ocean. The purple night sky is full of sparkling stars, and the sound of waves crashing on the beach is utter relaxation. We walk up to the restaurant, and I can already see Jessica and Michael mingling amongst their family and friends on the gorgeous patio. Jessica spots us, and her mouth drops when she sees me. She bolts over in our direction and leaves her Aunt Florence hanging in mid sentence.

“What did you guys do to her?” Jessica asks, “Ohmigod Megan, you look amazing. Steven is going to flip!”

I blush, not accustom to attracting this type of attention and Michelle proudly says, “We worked our expertise on our dear friend Megan.”

The three of them giggle, but Jessica whispers to me with a pleased smile on her face, “You look so beautiful.”

I thank her and tell her she looks beautiful too, which she always does. I link my arm in hers as we join everyone at the party.

Just as we are about to sit down for dinner, I finally see Ben stroll up to the restaurant with Eric and Matthew following close behind. They are late. Which I am assuming is due to their alcohol consumption that had them passed out up until fifteen minutes ago. I believe my suspicions are correct, because Matthew scratches his belly and gives a full-bodied yawn, Eric trips on his own two feet and rubs his blood shot eyes, while Ben keeps his head down and his hands in his pockets. But once they make it to the table, Ben finally looks up and sees me. He stops dead in his tracks and does a double take, bringing a huge smile to his perfectly whitened teeth.

Eric cuts in front of Ben and sits beside me. Matthew hurriedly plops down beside Michelle, which forces Ben to choose the vacant seat across from me. His brown eyes glimmer, and another hankering smile spreads across his face, “Well don’t you clean up nice.”

I roll my eyes at his less than flattering comment, “Too bad I can’t say the same.”

He chuckles and runs his fingers through his thick dark hair. He leans back in his chair and bites his lip almost detecting I am flat-out lying through my teeth. Inside, I can’t help but admit he does look remarkably sexy. I love how his tight white V-neck t-shirt clings to his muscular chest and how his five o’clock shadow is growing in perfectly on his tanned skin. I also can’t deny that his hair looks amazing, slicked back Matthew McConaughey style.

Just as I begin to blush from Ben’s intense gaze, I am distracted when I see Matthew lean over and kiss Michelle on the cheek. He whispers something in her ear and she giggles, and playfully bats him with a limp fist. What shocks me, and I am sure I can speak for the rest of our friends, who witnessed this flirtatious banter, is that they were both still in relationships with other people before we left for Costa Rica. But their behavior is not at all surprising, because over the years they have always been an on again off again. Their relationship has always been tumultuous and threatening to the group, because whenever they do split, it never ends well.

Eric laughs out exactly what all of us are thinking, “What the hell are you guys doing?”

“What?” Michelle innocently says blinking her eyes at all of us.

“Don’t even think about it.” Eric says waving his hands in the air like he is an umpire calling an out.

Matthew rolls his eyes at Eric and insists it's nothing. Stephanie and I glare directly at Michelle waiting for her to confess to their yet again not-so-secret affair.

Then Ben interjects with a laugh, “Who cares. If that’s what they want to do, then to each there own.”

I take a huge gulp after Ben’s so-called blessing of their clandestine love affair. His reaction sends chills up my spine. How could Ben possibility think it is okay to be with someone and sleep with another? I bite down on my lip, not wanting to question him on his immoral approach to their circumstance. I don’t dare make eye contact with him, even though I can feel his eyes burning into me. Instead, I raise my glass of wine over to Matthew and Michelle with congratulatory humor and say, “Well then, on that note, to sex with friends.”