Just Friends With Benefits (14 page)

“Is someone sitting here?” she asked.

I shook my head, smiled and said, “No. Be my guest.” I made an initial judgment based on her appearance that my luck could have been worse. She was thin and, therefore, unlikely to encroach on my space and, after putting her bag next to mine above our seats, the only item she carried was a James Patterson novel. I held my breath for a few seconds in fear she would reach up and grab her cell phone but, after getting herself comfortable, she smiled at me, leaned back and closed her eyes, her arms wrapped around the book. Sleep. Now that was a novel idea. I hadn’t gotten much the night before, although after my encounter with Hille, I was at least able to sleep through his snoring. Four hours of sleep just didn’t do it for me, though, and with nowhere to go for another two, exhaustion took over. Within seconds of closing my eyes and allowing my body to relax, I was out. A tap on my shoulder jolted me awake and I realized what felt like hours was only a few minutes and the conductor was asking for my ticket. I apologized for keeping him waiting, clumsily reached into my bag for my ticket and handed it to him. Then I closed my eyes and instantly fell back asleep until I was again awakened, this time by the beep of my cell phone indicating I had a text message. It was from Suzanne.

“
How was the party?”

“
It was fun. Always is. How was your first New Year’s Eve with Luke?”

“Extremely X-rated. Don’t want to put details in writing lest they fall into the wrong hands and wind up on the internet. How were things with Hille?”

Frowning, I debated my next response I didn’t want to keep it a secret from Suzanne that we’d slept together again, but I didn’t know how she’d react, especially since my own feelings on the subject changed every five minutes. I decided there was no time like the present, typed my response and hit send.
“
X-rated, too.”

Within seconds, my phone rang. Suzanne.

“Hey, I can’t talk,” I said. “I’m on the train.”

“Drinks tomorrow.”

“I’ll see how work goes and let you know.”

“It wasn’t a question. Drinks tomorrow.”

I sighed loudly and the woman next to me gave me a sympathetic look as if she could hear the other end of the conversation. I bit my fingernail and contemplated the value in arguing with Suzanne. There wasn’t any. “Fine. Drinks tomorrow. Call me in the morning.”

“I knew you’d come around. I love you, sweetie.”

“Love you, too.” It was almost impossible not to love Suzanne and, after we hung up, I chuckled softly.

The conductor announced that we were arriving in Baltimore and the woman next to me got up, grabbed her bag from the overhead bin and gave me a slight smile.

“Happy New Year,” I said.

“Same to you. Enjoy your drinks tomorrow.”

“I’ll try.” After she left, I leaned back, stretched my legs out under the seat in front of me and slept for the remainder of the trip.

Suzanne held the practically overflowing Pomegranate Martini to her lips and carefully took a sip before putting it back on the bar and turning to me. “Friends with benefits, huh? How convenient for him.”

“Suzanne, stop. You make him sound like a total prick.”

“No, I think he does that just fine on his own.”

I glanced behind me as if someone who knew Hille might actually be at the Round Robin Bar at the Willard Hotel and whispered, “Look, it’s not like Hille promised one thing and delivered another. I knew what I was getting into and walked in with my eyes wide open.” I laughed and said, “And legs wide open.”

Looking doubtful, Suzanne asked, “So, you’re okay with this ‘arrangement’?”

I wasn’t really sure how to answer that question and took a sip of my drink as if the answer would come to me via flavored vodka. But as I felt the perfect balance of sour and sweet slide down my throat, I still had nothing. “Honestly, I have no idea how I feel. I’m totally attracted to him, Suze. I swear I want to rip off his clothes every time I look at him.”

Suzanne smiled. “Well, it appears he’s pretty fond of seeing you naked as well. Maybe things aren’t as bad as I thought.”

“He was all concerned about me being alone at the train station. It was sweet,” I said.

Suzanne raised one eyebrow, a trick I never mastered, and said, “Nope. Things aren’t as bad as I thought. They’re worse. Much worse.” Then she emptied the rest of her drink into her mouth in one swig.

“What?” I asked. Suzanne was always urging me to embrace my single status and whore around while I had the chance. I had hoped for a different reaction to this latest development.

Suzanne twirled one of her blonde curls in her finger and smiled at the bartender. “Can we get another round, please?” Then she turned back towards me, placed her hand over mine and looked me in the eyes. “Stephanie. I think this is a bad idea.”

“Why do you say that?”

“When a guy says he’s not looking for a relationship, he’s usually not looking for a relationship. And ‘Friends with Benefits’ is not a relationship. I’m just afraid you’re gonna fall in love with this guy,” she said.

“That’s a bit premature, isn’t it? And, by the way, it might not even happen again. It’s not as if I plan on knocking knees with Hille every weekend. If things head in that direction the next time we get together, I’ll deal with it then.” I sincerely hoped things would lead in that direction sooner rather than later, but when it came to dating, Suzanne and my mom worshipped from the same bible and I knew just how to answer her prayers. “And in the meantime, I plan to date other guys.”

Suzanne’s face lit up. “Promise?”

“I promise.” If I happened to meet another guy I liked, of course I’d date him. “So, how are the wedding plans going?”

Suzanne’s face lit up even brighter as she told me about her latest dress fitting. “I lost a few more pounds and they have to take in the dress a few inches in the waist,” she said.

“Since when are you dieting?” Suzanne was my only female friend virtually void of body-image issues. As a student counselor at the Duke Ellington School of the Arts, she was a shining example to the weight-obsessed aspiring singers, dancers and actors.

“I love my womanly curves and I’m not technically on a diet. I’m just so busy with the wedding plans I don’t have time to plan the wedding
and
eat. I’ve been eating Luna Bars for lunch at least two or three times a week. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind losing five more pounds. I just hope they don’t come off my boobs.”

As Suzanne said this, she cupped her 36Cs in each of her hands, oblivious to the twenty-something guy standing behind us who I guessed was a tourist by his drink order, a rob roy and a mint julep. I, however, was keenly aware that he was smiling from ear to ear, his eyes focused on the front of Suzanne’s v-neck cashmere sweater. I stared at him until he noticed me, shrugged and said, “They’re nice. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Finally acknowledging the attention being paid to her cleavage by a third party, Suzanne smiled at the guy and said, “Thanks, buddy.” Pointing at me, she said, “My friend’s boobs aren’t bad either—small, yet perky. Don’t you think?”

To my knowledge, no one had ever said “nice rack” when referring to my 34Bs and the only reaction I could muster was to kick Suzanne in the leg.

“Ouch! The kick was not necessary, Cohen!”

Shaking his head, probably in awe of Suzanne’s balls, the guy said, “I’m sure they’re very nice, although I think my girlfriend would probably kick me too if she knew I was having this conversation. And I doubt she’d choose my leg as her target.” After throwing a couple of singles on the bar, he said, “Enjoy your evening, ladies,” grabbed his drinks and walked back to his table.

Still embarrassed by her blatant attempt to pimp me out, I said, “You’re a piece of work, Suzanne.”

“Damn. I didn’t think he had a girlfriend. A little young, but dorky cute – probably good boyfriend material.”

“No offense, but I really wouldn’t be interested in a guy who noticed your tits before he noticed me anyway.”

Grabbing her boobs again, Suzanne said, “Good luck with that!”

Later that week, I was in the middle of preparing an email to outside counsel, attaching copies of signed pages of an agreement they had requested, when I received a notification on the bottom right of my screen that I’d received an email from Hille. I saved my email to outside counsel into my drafts and quickly opened Hille’s. It was addressed to everyone who was at the party on New Year’s Eve.

Hey guys,

Had a great time this weekend. I’ve attached the link to my album so we can re-live the night. We should do it again soon. Paul’s birthday is next.

Hille

Happy for a break from doing real work, I immediately clicked on the link and watched the slideshow of Hille’s album. Since I’d arrived at the party late, I hadn’t seen Corky strip down to his boxers and hula hoop in Jess and Eric’s living room and I laughed out loud looking at the pictures. There were a few of Hope draped across Paul’s lap on the couch. As always, Hope’s smooth red hair and bright green eyes practically jumped out of the pictures. The photos of Hille didn’t do him justice and I decided not to even show them to Suzanne. No one ever believed you when you told them someone was way cuter in person but Hille really was. I didn’t remember posing for many pictures and started to wonder if I was even in any when I saw it.

It was a picture of Hille, Hope and Paul standing by one of the couches. Hope was in the middle and Hille and Paul were both kissing her on the cheek. It was a great picture except when I took a second look, I saw myself in the background, to the left of Hille, looking at him in a dream-like trance. I could almost remember what I was thinking at that precise moment and it probably wouldn’t take any paranormal ability to read my mind. I was undressing him with my eyes, recalling our night in New York. At the time I had no idea that history would repeat itself in just a few hours.

I covered my face with my hand, wishing I could hide or at least destroy the picture. I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair while I prayed no one would look too closely at it. I hoped that, like me, the others would pay more attention to how they looked in the pictures and would just quickly breeze through the ones they weren’t in. I mean, I didn’t examine the pictures of Corky and the only reason my eyes so easily focused on the picture of Hille, Hope and Paul was because I was in the background. How likely was it any of the others would even notice I was staring at Hille? I opened my eyes, took a sip from my water bottle and exited the album. I’d finish looking at the pictures later.

I closed Hille’s email and saw I had received a new one from Paul, also addressed to everyone.

Cohen, I think you’ve got some drool in the corner of your mouth.

You might want to do something about that.

I shook my head in disgust, wondering why Paul had to be such an asshole. If he hadn’t said anything, the others might not have even noticed. Hille might not have noticed. Now they would all peer closely at each picture until they found the picture of me ‘drooling.’ So much for playing it cool like I was totally fine with the way things were going with Hille. The picture stated the obvious. I had it bad. I seriously hated Paul.

My head hurt and I grabbed the bottle of aspirin from my pocketbook just as my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number but the area code was 201 – New Jersey.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hey Steph, it’s Hille.”

My heart began to flutter at the sound of his voice even though I was pretty certain it was him before I answered. If he mentioned the picture, I’d die. “Hi,” I said.

“Sorry to bother you at work.”

“No bother. I wasn’t really doing much work anyway.”
I was actually debating jumping out of my eighteenth floor window and you probably just saved my life.