Between Friends (11 page)

It seemed simple enough…

But Ben makes a point of telling me
when our friends ask, I have no business opening my mouth because I
will surely screw it up and shout out the truth. I agree to zip my
lips, even though I know this lie is going to eat me up
inside.

On the way down to the Theatre Bar,
Ben doesn’t stop flirting with me. He constantly makes quick little
jokes, like he always does to get me going. He nudges me and says
I’m like an old maid when it comes to my underwear selection, which
I rebut that granny panties are way comfier than a line of dental
floss going up my butt. He also jokes about my neurotic behavior
and insists the more orgasms he gives me, will definitely clear
that up a bit. I laugh at him and tell him to grow up, but he loves
every minute of teasing me, especially when I give him playful slap
in the arm.

Then before I can even see it coming,
he shoves me into a corridor and starts making-out with me. Even
though we both have been missing for over two hours, I can’t bring
myself to resist him. It’s also clear he can’t resist me, when he
shoves his tongue down my throat. I kiss him back, loving every
minute of it. It is so thrilling, impulsive and badass; all the
things I am not. Finally, I pull away panting, “We are going to get
caught.”

Ben gives me a wicked grin then kisses
me again, “You smell so good though.”

Once again, I find myself being sucked
right back into his sexual vortex. But when I start to feel his
hand slide up my skirt, my legs stiffen and I pull away, “Ben stop.
Do want to keep this a secret or not?” I say completely out of
breath.

His hands move up to my
hips, “I want whatever you want.” He kisses my cheek then adds,
“But right now what I
really
want is to fuck you - again.”

I place my hands on his forearms, “Not
here.”

“
Fine.” Ben pouts, “But I
just love when I get you all worked up.”

I blush, “Well, you’ve always known
how to press my buttons.”

Ben cages me pressing both
his palms on the wall and smugly grins, “Now I actually know how to
push
all
of
them.”

I roll my eyes at his
attempt at self-praise (which I will never let him know, was the
most intense orgasm I have
ever
had). He rubs his finger over my cheek, and gives
me one final soft and gentle kiss on my forehead.

When we approach the Theatre Bar,
Jessica is leaning on Michael’s shoulder, captivated by the
entertainment on the stage. Michelle and Stephanie are in an
intense conversation (which I am sure has no more depth than who
has the better martini) while at the far end of the table Eric and
Matthew, play a game of cards.

“
Honestly man? How could it
have possibly taken over two hours to find your phone?” Eric shouts
over the noise.

“
We were ready to send out
a search party, if you didn’t show up in the next fifteen minutes.”
Michael adds.

“
Yay! Megan!” Jessica
squeals and runs in my direction. She flings her arms around me and
dangles heavily from my neck. Then she points her finger in Ben’s
face, “Where were you Mister? How did you two end up together?
Weren’t you on a date with Steven?”

Ben and I share an awkward glance
before he pipes up and feeds our fabricated story to our friends.
It is frightening how easily Ben begins to divulge in our lie. It
actually worries me and makes me wonder how he can hide the truth
with such poise. But I remind myself this is an unusual
circumstance, and I am sure he never has or would ever lie to
me.

“
Well one of you could have
called to let us know you were okay.” Eric says when Ben
finishes.

“
You’re right, sorry man.”
Ben says with deadpan eyes.

“
Any-who,” Jessica says
with a slur to her voice, “Enough about Ben’s mysterious
disappearance and you somehow finding him. What I want to know is
how it went with Steven? Did he kiss you?”

“
No” I say steadying
Jessica on her feet.

Ben’s ears perk up and he lingers
beside me to eavesdrop on our conversation.

“
Why not?” Jessica shouts,
“But he likes you, so why wouldn’t he kiss you?”

“
It’s because he’s a
gentleman.” I say loud enough for Ben to hear. He rolls his eyes
and sits down beside Matthew.

“
Well that is true.”
Jessica says, and pulls me into the empty chair between her and
Michelle. “I saved it for you.” She adds, smiling proudly to
herself.

I sit down and see Ben speaking to the
server. He points at me and I can tell he has ordered my drink. I
smile at him and think; even though we have totally trampled all
over our once pure and wholesome friendship that hint of us that
was recently missing is back.

I listen to Jessica ramble on and
re-cap on how amazing today was with all of us, and how great it
was to be together like old times. I agree with her and say I
couldn’t have asked for a better day (in more ways than one), and
tell her she really is the best friend a girl could ask for. We
share a small hug, until I hear Jessica make a sound of
astonishment and quickly pull away. I follow her gaze to see the
server approaching our table with the drinks Ben ordered. I feel
myself turn flush. I can hardly even look at him when the server
places a tall and skinny lime margarita on the rocks in front of
me. No one in the whole entire world, expect for Ben, knows that I
have an emotional attachment to this drink.

When I sold my first property two
years ago, Ben and I went to a little Mexican restaurant a few
blocks away from Wrigley Field. He was astounded, when I told him
the margarita he ordered me, was the first time I had ever had one.
After my first sip, I knew I was in love. I thought it was so
delicious, and I swore that from now on I would only drink
margaritas for all big moments in my life.

Sure enough, I played by my own rules.
I stood by my margarita promise and involved Ben in my personal
tradition. Like when I passed my broker exam, we went out and drank
margaritas. When I bought my condo, Ben came over with some store
bought mix and we drank margaritas. Even when Marco broke up with
me, for the hundredth but final time - I went over to Ben’s crying,
and he made us margaritas.

Ben raises his glass in my direction
from the opposite end of the table, and I give him a coy smile.
Jessica waves the server over, “You better get the whole table a
round of those! That drink just screams celebration!”

As Ben and I silently toast each other
in the dim lighting of the bar, I know deep inside he knows as well
as I do that what happened in my villa only a few short hours ago
is nothing short of a margarita moment.

Chapter 9

I take the last gulp of my third
margarita, and sit back to listen to the musical entertainment on
stage. Our night has been nothing but fun, chatting and laughing
into the wee hours of the night. Michelle pokes fun at Matthew, and
imitates him screaming like a girl when he soared down the zip
line. Michael retells his horrific mud bath experience - how he
ended up having to smear volcanic mud all over a larger middle-aged
man, and Eric re-enacts his event in the hot spring when he
“accidentally” brushed up against some random woman’s double D
implants. As the night wears on, Eric breaks the guys away to
discuss a recent Blackhawks trade. Stephanie props her elbows up on
the table then says, “So Jess, did you end up deciding on vanilla
or chocolate cake for the reception?”

Jessica crosses her legs and
straightens up a bit, “Honestly Stephanie, deciding this shit is
like a small nightmare. I can’t make my mind up about anything, and
Michael is completely useless.”

“
Why don’t you have both?”
I pipe up.

“
It’s not that simple
Megan.” Jessica says and rolls her eyes, “It’s either one or the
other, and the more I lean towards chocolate, the more guilt I have
about excluding vanilla all together.”

“
What about your hair? Did
you decide on what style you want?” Michelle chimes in.

Jessica sighs, “That’s another
disaster. I’ve been debating two styles. The first is long and
curled, because we all know how stunning I look when I wear my hair
like that.” She pauses, and waits for us to nod in agreement, “But
I’m worried because I think it’s too typical destination
wedding.”

“
Agreed” Stephanie says and
shares another nod with Michelle, “Every bride who has a
destination wedding goes for the curly lock look. It’s so
overdone.”

“
That brings me to my
second option.” Jessica says with a hiccup, then smiles with a
proud grin, “I step out of my comfort zone and pull my hair back
into a sleek side bun.”

“
Ooooh! You have to do
that!” Michelle shrieks, “You would look stunning.”

“
Don’t you have to have
some class to pull off a look like that?” Stephanie says and gives
Jessica a playful nudge.

“
Oh, I’ve got class.”
Jessica giggles and fluffs her hair, “What do you think Megan? What
would you do?”

I shrug, “I don’t know. I think you
will look great no matter what.”

“
I don’t want to
look
great
Megan.
I want to look fucking fabulous.” Jessica says.

Stephanie and Michelle share a
concerned glance and take a sip of their drinks.

“
What do you want me to
say? I like your hair both ways.”

“
I want to you to say what
I should do. You’re my maid-of-honor. That’s part of your job.”
Jessica pouts.

I feel like the worst maid-of-honor
ever. If I can’t even help my best friend decide on how she should
style her hair, how am I ever going to make up my mind on how I
feel about Ben?

A gleam of concern rises in Jessica’s
eyes, “How’s the maid-of-honor speech coming?”

Stephanie and Michelle quickly turn
away and abandon me with bridezilla. They have been caught in this
topic before, and know to get out while they can. Jessica has been
a little crazy lately with her obsession on this speech.

“
It’s going.” I say
wearily.

Jessica frowns, “How many times do I
have to tell you how crucial a good maid-of-honor speech
is?”

“
Don’t worry. I promise it
will be up to snuff.”

Jessica crosses her arms in
front of her chest and reminds me I am not allowed to bring up
embarrassing stories from her past, and I definitely cannot
highlight any volatile fights between her and Michael. I agree and
try my hardest to engage in a committed conversation with her, but
when Ben smiles over at me from the other end of the table, it’s
all over. I gaze into his sexy brown eyes and find myself wandering
off from Jessica’s continual chatter. His strong jaw line and five
o’clock shadow has my heart palpitating in my chest. When he licks
his bottom lip, I have to stop myself from flying across the table
and ripping off his shirt. It is in this moment that I try to
convince myself I really can keep Ben and I’s
situation
a secret.

I can do
this
.

Besides, everyone has a few secrets. I
can think of three secrets none of my friends know about me;
including Jessica and Ben:

1. I own Karaoke Revolution for my
Nintendo Wii and yes, I sing to it when I am alone. It is hidden
under my mattress like a teenage boy would hide his Penthouse
magazine.

2. I love watching all Disney Pixar
movies. Every time a new one is released, I rent it, pop it into my
DVD player and rip open a bag of chips to munch on.

3. I hate my mother’s banana bread. I
pretend I like it, because I don’t want to hurt her feelings. But
when she isn’t looking, I feed it to her Basset Hound.

Ben leans back in his chair and
stretches out his long legs and places his hands behind his head.
He is so calm and relaxed - completely unfazed by the lies we fed
our friends. Why was he so adamant on not telling anybody? Of
course this answer is simple: Ben can’t commit to anyone. It occurs
to me this should probably hurt my feelings, but instead it makes
me question why I am consciously letting myself get trapped in this
weird, friends with benefits situation. What on earth am I
thinking? I roll my shoulders back and forth to loosen my muscles.
Ben may be a player, but I have faith he would never risk our
friendship for sex. Would he?

Then I think how surprised I am by my
restraint on keeping this all from Jessica. I figure my control
over this situation must be a mix of two things: One because of all
the wedding hype, and two because I am in too deep with Steven. If
I tell Jessica now, she will be furious. What I need to do is let
the Steven situation fizzle out naturally. If I don’t, the
repercussions from Jessica will be nothing short of a dramatic
squabble followed by a serious best friend demotion.

I make a promise to myself
that no matter what happens, I will come clean and tell her – of
course not until the wedding is over. In my defense, I do not want
to divert any of the attention from her to me at all this week.
This is
her
wedding and
her
big day. Burdening her with my problems would only put me in
complete breech of my maid-of-honor contract.