Between Friends (2 page)

“
Aww
Megan,
you’re the best”

I haven’t
been out for so long; I have forgotten what a bar looks like on a
Friday night. Leave it to Ben to pick the least romantic setting
for a first date. I’m sure who ever this mystery girl was, she must
have taken one look at this place, turned around, walked out the
door and thought,
what a
chump
. I push through the
crowd of people, to see Ben sitting alone at the bar. He is wearing
a backwards baseball cap and a tight fitting solid black t-shirt
emphasizing his lean muscular build. He smiles when he sees me, and
ushers me into the chair beside him.

“
Whoa” I choke
from inhaling his cologne, fanning my hand in front of my face,
“Are you sure she didn’t leave after she got a good whiff of
you?”

“
I thought the
ladies liked a man who smelled good?” Ben smiles and takes a sip of
his rum and coke, then proceeds to wave over the bartender, “Can
you get her a vodka water please?”

The bartender
smiles at him, and flicks her bleach blonde hair to the side, “Sure
thing buttercup.”

She bends down
in front of us and pulls out the vodka from the bar rail. Her huge
melons pour out of her teeny tiny t-shirt and I catch Ben staring
down at them.

“
What?” He
laughs, caught red handed.

“
You're
disgusting,” I whisper only half joking.

“
Come on Megan, wha
t do you expect? I’m a guy.” He leans back in his chair and
reaches across the bar to pull over a vacated menu, “What are you
in the mood for?”

“
Pretty much
anything.” I shift uncomfortably on the wooden bar
stool.

“
Really?
Anything?” Ben raises his eyebrows.

The bartender
returns and slides me my drink. She uses this as her opportunity to
wink at Ben. He basks in the attention, giving me a smug grin.
“Okay, how about I get us some wings and nachos.”

“
Sure thing
buttercup,” I sarcastically snort and take a sip of my stiff drink.
Ben rolls his big brown eyes at me and relays our order to the
bartender. I feel my phone vibrate in my purse, so I pick it up and
see Jessica has sent me a text:

S
ee you in 11 hours!
Can’t wait!

I giggle and flash my
text from Jessica at Ben, “The countdown is on.” I say in a
singsong voice.

Ben chuckles
and swirls his drink, “Can you believe they are actually getting
married? They have been together since we were
fourteen. Who even does that?”

He
enjoys his last gulp of rum and
proceeds to wave down the trampy bartender for another.

“
Well, they are in love” I say letting the sarcasm drip from
my voice, because
Ben
and I are
not
on the same page about this. He
doesn’t believe in love at all, while I differ that love does
exist. It just requires a prenuptial agreement. Unfortunately, our
outlook on love may be the exact reason why we are both still
single on the brink of our twenty-fifth year.

“
Oh please” he
moans, “Their sex life must be so vanilla.”

“
Well at least
they are getting some, even if it is vanilla.” I laugh.

When Ben
doesn’t reciprocate a chuckle, it quickly becomes silent between
us. We glance away from each other and take a long sip from our
drinks. I know we are both experiencing a dry season in
that
department. I am going on six months, while he is probably
only on a measly thirty days, but still.

The bartender
returns with another round of drinks and our food. We eat in
silence, inhaling our cheap bar garble. I watch Ben chomp into a
wing, getting hot sauce all over his face and fingertips. When I
tell him he looks ridiculous, he goofily smears his sauced fingers
over my cheek. I gasp, retaliating by shoving a pile of nachos in
his face. We both burst out laughing and the song “You’re my Best
Friend” by Queen just happens to fill the bar. I can’t help but
think over the past couple of years Ben has truly taken the place
of Jessica. Especially once Michael and she moved in together, out
of the city and into the suburbs.

He
wipes his face and slams back
another drink, “Alright. Hear me out. We all know you are lacking
in the department of getting some.” He immaturely makes a thrusting
action with his hips before he leans on the bar top and whispers,
“How about we flip a coin for it.”

“
How is
flipping a coin going to help me in the department of having sex?”
I ask biting into another nacho.

“
Heads we do
it, tails we don’t.” Ben says completely serious.

I practically
choke. Never once have we ever talked about us doing
that
! We have been nothing but friends since the day we met.
Besides, it doesn’t even make sense. Why would Ben want to sleep
with me? I am a tiny brunette with small boobs and a brain, while
he is more into sleeping with tall blonde models that don’t speak
the English language.

From my
perspective, it is not like I don’t find him attractive. Matter of
fact, he has totally changed over the years from a sweaty pimpled
teenager into a tall, broad, and gorgeous man. The way he rocks a
five o’clock shadow is breathtaking and his tanned skin is
flawless. His dark eyes suck you into their mystery and wrinkle
around the edges when he smiles. His teeth are perfectly straight
and pearly white. Not to mention his spectacular
physique.

“
Come on.” I
laugh and playfully punch him in the shoulder.

“
No I’m
serious.” he says and waves over the big-breasted bartender for us
to order another round.

Suddenly, I am starting
to feel the four or five vodkas I slammed back in the last hour
rush to my brain. Ben has always been known to get me to drink way
more than I should. But for some reason, even though I know this is
a bad idea, I can’t stop myself when I ask to amuse his bet, “Can I
flip the coin?”

“
Sure.” Ben
deviously smiles leaning back in his chair to stretch out his long
legs.

“
Are you sure
you can handle this?” I joke, suggestively rubbing my hands down my
body.

He strokes his
chin and takes a sip of his drink, “Oh, Megan Daniels you are too
much.”

“
Oh, Benjamin
Romano, I think you have yourself a coin toss.”

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, but 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 mother hen and the girl with
her head
on her shoulders.
I was proud to say that
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 told her
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, felling 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. Ben lifts his eyes to meet my stare
then 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 mumbling 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.” He says.

“
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, before 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. He slowly stands up and starts
methodically walk to my doorway. He stops in mid stride and runs
his fingers through his thick dark hair. Glancing back at me, his
mouth slightly parts 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 walking 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, or us finally breaking into my
bedroom and sealing the deal.