Just Friends With Benefits (12 page)

“Hey missy, when you hang out with the followers of Christ, you leave your tribe’s customs at home. You got that?”

“I got it, Paul. How ‘bout I leave your gift at home next time, too! By the way, do I get a hug or what?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I had seen Hille observe the preceding interaction with amusement. As I embraced Paul, he finally approached me.
You’ve seen me naked
. “Hey you, Happy New Year,” I said.
We had sex
.

Not looking nearly as uncomfortable as I was feeling, Hille responded cheerily, “Back at you. How was the train?”

He didn’t move in for a hug and so neither did I. “It was long. I’m just glad to be here and so ready for a beer.”

“Anyone need a drink?” Paul asked.

Directing his attention to Paul, Hille said, “I do, but I’ll make it myself. Last time I trusted you to make my drinks, I wound up passed out in some stranger’s bathroom.”

I left Paul and Hille to recount the events of that apparently fun-filled night and went to find Eric. He was outside on the back deck smoking, grilling some burgers and singing to himself what sounded like John Cougar’s “Jack & Diane,” his thick mane of blonde curls peeking out from his red winter hat.

“Holy shit—it’s freezing out here, Eric! Why are you grilling on New Year’s Eve?” I asked as I hugged myself to keep warm.

“Because I can, Stephanie, because I can.” Eric put out his cigarette in an empty beer can and kissed me hello. “When did you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago. I saw everyone except Andy and Rachel. Where are they?”

“I really can’t stand her, Steph. They’re fighting because Andy wants to hang around tomorrow to watch football and Rachel wants to go to the outlets.”

“Oh, God. I could never understand girls who insist on dragging their boyfriends shopping. The Rose Bowl is only once a year!” Even though I personally hated football, I totally sided with Andy on that one. “And I think the outlets would be closed anyway!”

“Don’t ask me. She’s a dog, too. He can probably only get it up in the heat of makeup sex.” Raising and lowering his eyebrows at me, Eric said, “Speaking of sex, what’s up with you and Hille?”

“Nice segue, Eric. We had sex. End of story. I think you need to flip that burger.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re lying. What’s with you and Hille?”

“It’s nothing,” I maintained, letting out a loud exhale. “It’s stupid, Eric.”

Eric removed his focus from the grill, looked at me and said, “Probably.” Continuing to gaze at me intently, he said, “But tell me anyway.”

Too embarrassed to make eye contact, I looked down and mumbled, “I sort of like him.”

“I knew it. Shit, Stephanie. Hille’s a good guy and everything, but he might be quite the challenge—he’s socially inept sometimes.”

Surprisingly feeling better after my confession, I joked, “He seemed quite adept to me.”

“TMI, Steph.”

“Anyway, I’m sure I’ll get over it.” Determined to change the subject this time, I said, “Ya think I should go for Corky instead”?

“Sounds like a plan. And while you’re at it, get yourself a drink already! It’s New Year’s Eve, for Christ’s sake!”

On my way back to the family room, I grabbed a bottle of heffeweizen from the fridge and poured it in a pilsner glass with a slice of lemon. As I headed towards the stairs, I ran into Andy and Rachel coming out of one of the guest rooms. Pretending to have no idea they had been fighting, I called out cheerfully, “Hey, guys! Happy New Year!”

Rachel, smiling brightly, greeted me with a hug and kiss and said, “Hey, Stephanie. You look great! Are those jeans Miss Sixties? I wish I could fit into those!”

“Thanks, Rachel. You look great, too! Good to see you, Andy!” I said as I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Good to see you, too,” Andy said.

Before he could say anything else, Rachel placed her head on his shoulder, looked up at him from under her eyelashes and said, “Hon, can you pour me a glass of wine, please? Stephanie and I will see you downstairs.”

Flashing me a defeated smile, Andy said, “Sure thing. You need anything, Steph?”

I held up my full glass of beer. “No thanks. I’m good.” Then I followed Rachel down the stairs. So far the party was pretty weak. Paul and Hope were sitting in the corner of one couch staring intently at a laptop and Hille was on the other couch watching the television. Michael Jackson was playing in the background.

“Nice music, guys,” I said.

Paul looked up at me from the computer. “What? You don’t like “Beat It?” That’s not what I heard. Or what I remember,” he said with a wink and then added, “What about you, Hille?” Hope jabbed him in the arm. I ignored him and Hille, expressionless, shook his head and continued to stare at the television. I wasn’t drunk enough to act normal around Hille so I went back upstairs.

Eric had the video camera out and was taping Jess and Corky dancing to “Bust a Move” in the living room. “Oh, my Lord. Did I jump into a time warp or something? “Thriller” downstairs, cheesy 90s rap upstairs?”

Corky approached me with his awkward dance moves and chanted, “She’s dressed in yellow, she says ‘Hello, come sit next to me, you fine fellow
”
and eventually took my hand and dragged me onto the ‘dance floor’ to join him. I pushed away my initial self-consciousness as well as thoughts of Hille and danced along with Corky and Jess until I braved a solo. Swinging my hips in time to the music, I crooned, “She thinks you’re kinda cute so she winks back And now you’re feelin’ really fine cus the girl is stacked
,
” turned around and saw Hille staring at me with a close-mouthed grin. I immediately stopped dancing, feeling my face turn bright red.

“Please don’t stop on my account,” he teased. “I’m just enjoying the show.”

Mortified, I said, “Show’s over” and walked passed him into the kitchen. As I grabbed another beer, I felt his presence behind me. I turned around to face him and leaned against the refrigerator. Fake it till you make it. We’re friends, nothing else.

“The party is really lame downstairs,” he said. “Paul is showing Hope his Myspace page and Rachel is showing Andy her favorite jewelry in Jess’s Tiffany’s catalog. I came upstairs thinking it had to be an improvement.” Then he started laughing and said, “So glad I did.”

“Whatever I can do to provide some entertainment, Craig. You’re up next,” I joked.

“Not gonna happen, Steph—not without a lot more of this, at least,” he said, holding up his drink.

Motioning for him to follow me downstairs where everyone else had finally gathered in the family room, I said, “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

For the next couple of hours, we sat around drinking and basically ripping each other apart. (Our motto: If we don’t make fun of you, we obviously don’t know you.) At 11:59 and 49 seconds, with a glass of champagne in one hand and a shot of tequila in the other, we chanted in unison: “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1—Happy New Year!”

I averted my eyes from the kissing couples and looked over at Hille and Corky. Raising my glass of champagne, I said, “Happy New Year, guys!” Corky wrapped me into a bear hug and planted a wet one on my lips. After he released me, Hille and I locked eyes and awkwardly moved in for a hug.

My face in his chest, I said, “Happy New Year, Craig!”

“Happy New Year, kid,” he said before quickly detaching himself from our embrace.

By then, the couples had separated and after each person hugged and said Happy New Year to everyone else, Eric brought out the karaoke machine.

Paul performed the opening act—‘Tangled Up In Blue.’
Paul, Eric, Corky and Jess were always the most eager, while Hope, Andy and I usually waited until the tequila had worked its magic. Hille’s participation was usually limited to insulting Paul’s performance.

After almost everyone had a turn, Eric looked at me and said, “You’re up next. What are you singing?”

Suddenly I felt completely nauseated and I looked over at Hille, who was laughing at Corky’s rendition of “Gold Digger.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and said, “I’m not ready yet.”

From across the room, Paul called out, “You’re not wimping out are you, Cohen?” and suddenly all eyes were on me.

I had to do this. Hille had seen me in the throes of passion. Karaoke was trivial in comparison. “Not wimping out. Just deciding on a song. Think of something, Stephanie. “Okay, ‘Down Under.’” It was easy, had no high notes and needn’t be accompanied by dancing.

I felt as if I were wearing 100-pound ankle weights but somehow made it off the couch to the center of the room where Eric handed me the microphone. I couldn’t remember the first words ‘Traveling in a fried-out combie’ leaving my mouth but by the time I got to ‘She just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich
’
(and maybe it was because Paul kept lifting his shirt and flashing me his pot belly), I was fine. In fact, when the song was over, I swear Hille looked upon me with admiration. Unless, of course, I was simply beer goggling on myself.

Although no one officially announced it was ‘bed time,’ as the sun began to peek through the shades, we all got ready for bed. Paul and Hope and Rachel and Andy called dibs on the two guest bedrooms, while Jess brought out pillows and blankets for Hille, Corky and me, who were stuck sleeping in the family room. Hille offered to sleep on the floor so Corky and I each got a couch.

I was beat and couldn’t wait to go to sleep. Corky already appeared to be out cold when I got out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed and Hille was snoring—loudly. I didn’t think the snoring would keep me awake but I was wrong. At first I was calm and just assumed that Hille would stop snoring eventually. I mean, who snored non-stop?

Apparently, Hille did and I counted how many hours I had until the others would wake up if I fell asleep at that precise moment. ‘Shut up,’ I screamed inwardly. I turned from my side to my stomach and then back to my side. Then I covered my head with my pillow and kicked my feet in annoyance. “Oh, God. Shut up! Please,” I cried, this time out loud.

Hille stirred in his sleep, abruptly sat up and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You’re snoring,” I answered in frustration.

“Sorry, Steph.”

“You sound like a cat trapped in a vacuum cleaner.”

“And what exactly does that sound like?”

“Fucking annoying!”

Hille laughed and said, “You didn’t complain about my snoring in New York.”

Too tired to censor myself, I said, “Well, you had just given me an orgasm. You sort of had a get out of jail free card.”

“I can give you an orgasm now if you want.”

Whoa. “Come again?”

Totally deadpan, Hille responded, “That’s the idea.”

My heart began to beat at the pace of an Olympic runner. “Uh, will the real Craig Hille please stand up?”

“Why do you say that?” Hille asked lightly.

“So not like you.”

“Why? Because I don’t do karaoke, I have no sense of adventure?”

“No, just not what I expected you to say. I mean, first you needed Paul’s permission and now—Just not what I expected. That’s all.”

Hille shrugged and said, “I don’t know. We’ve done it before—it’s not like we’d be making history. And the sex was...” Hille stopped speaking before completing the sentence.

“The sex was what, Craig?”

“Really good.”

Grinning despite myself and glad the room was too dark for Hille to see me, I said, “It was, wasn’t it?”

Like a middle school bully trying to get his smaller friend to smoke a joint, Hille said, “So, what do you say? I promise you’ll sleep better afterwards.”
All the kids are doing it
.

“That’s as good a reason as any, but what do we do about Corky?” I asked. Even as the words escaped my mouth, I couldn’t believe I was saying them.

“Leave him here. Let’s go in the bathroom.”