Between Friends (5 page)

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 accustomed 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.

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.