Just Friends With Benefits (27 page)

“I work best under pressure.” Tickling his arm, I said, “And besides, I’ve been a little busy.”

“Maybe someday I’ll meet these infamous friends of yours.”

“I hope so. I think you’ll like them. After they grow on you for a while.”

“Yup. While I’m busy counseling the leaders of tomorrow regarding which colleges to attend, you’ll be drinking Coronas on the beach. Life’s not fair.”

“You live such a tortured life, Ryan. So, you gonna stay over or not?”

“I don’t know. Ask me nicely.”

I hesitated, looked in the direction of my coat closet and pictured my copy of
Why Men Love Bitches
packed away at the top, along with
He’s Just Not That Into You
and
The Rules
. I turned back to Ryan who was gazing at me expectantly.

He adopted a feigned wounded look. “Did you change your mind or something?”

“No. I was just weighing the pros and cons of honoring your request.”

“Nice. What did you decide?”

Batting my eyelashes, I said in my sweetest voice, “Please stay over, Ryan—pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Ryan lowered his hands between my legs and I closed my eyes as I felt the gentle pressure of his fingers inside me. “Okay. But only because you asked me nicely,” he said. “And because I’m gonna miss you next week.”

“Mmmmm. I’m definitely gonna miss you too,” I whispered.

I was still packing when Eric called from downstairs at 10:30 and said they were outside.

“Don’t you guys want to come upstairs and see my place?” I asked.

“No,” Eric said. “I want to get there and start drinking!”

I threw another pair of jeans and a dress in my suitcase, just in case we decided to actually go someplace nice. “Doesn’t Jess have to go to the bathroom or anything?”

“You’re not finished packing, are you?”

“Yes I am! I just thought Ms. Preggars might need to empty her bladder. Why go to a gross rest stop when she can pee here?”

I heard Jess call out, “Let’s go up and see her place. And I have to pee anyway!”

“Okay, we’re coming up,” Eric said. “But you better be ready to go. Or is this just your lame attempt to get me to carry your suitcase? “

In frustration, I shoved all of my clothes deeper into my suitcase. Hoping to make more room, I kicked off my flip flops and put them inside, took out my bulkier running sneakers and put them on my feet. “No, I can carry it myself but I might need you to sit your fat ass on it so I can get it closed.”

As soon as we got in the car, Hope and Jess were really interested in hearing about Ryan. After I described what he looked like, told them what he did for a living and bragged that he had 400 friends on Facebook, Hope asked, “How old is he?”

“Twenty-nine,” I said.

And all of sudden Eric, who started laughing, was interested. “Stephanie the Cougar.”

“I’m not a cougar!! And his thirtieth birthday is in July.” Weren’t cougars women over forty who dated guys in their twenties? “We’re only three years apart,” I said. I leaned over the passenger seat and tapped Jess on the back. “I’m not a cougar, right, Jess”?

Jess nodded. “Not a cougar, chickie.”

Still laughing, Eric said, “Jess, do me a favor, grab me the box of CDs from under your seat. I want to change the music.”

Handing him the box, Jess asked, “What do you want to put on?”

“You’ll see,” he said.

“Well, I think he sounds great, Steph. Good for you,” Hope said.

“Thanks, Hope.” I shot Eric a nasty look. “I’m glad some of my friends are happy for me.”

“I’m happy for you too, Steph,” Eric said. “In fact, I dedicate this next song to you and Ryan. Drum roll please.”

I asked, “What song?” but the answer came quickly when I heard the first few notes “dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee” followed by Eric’s annoying, although admittedly perfect pitched, singing voice, “And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know.”

And the rest of the drive was more of the same as Eric referred to me and Ryan as Demi and Ashton respectively and played Mrs. Robinson every hour on the hour. I was relieved when we finally arrived at the beach house until it occurred to me that if Eric was this relentless with the jokes, Paul would be impossible. It was going to be a long week.

It was a three-story white Victorian-style house with the kitchen, living room and master bedroom on the top floor, a few more bedrooms on the second floor and a laundry room, pool table, two more bedrooms and a garage on the ground floor. After several trips up and down the stairs lugging our suitcases, bags of groceries for the week and enough cases of beer and bottles of alcohol to open our own liquor store, Eric, Jess, Hope, Hille, Paul, Corky, Denise (the younger sister of Bill, Eric’s big brother in the fraternity) and I finally got to relax with drinks on the ocean-overlooking back porch. Our plastic deck chairs were spaced in a close circle just wide enough to fit a square weathered wood table in the center to hold our empty beer bottles and an ashtray.

“How do you like your virgin Bay Breeze, honey?” Eric asked Jess.

Her cheeks already puffy from the middle stages of pregnancy, Jess said, “Most delicious. But can I tell you how much I’d love to spike it with some vodka?”

I loved drinking during the day and with an entire week off from work ahead of me, I was without a care in the world and my first beer went down nice and easy. Standing up, I said, “Getting another beer. Anyone want something?”

“Not me,” Paul said. “But Corky here wouldn’t mind a hand job.”

“I think I saw a few in the fridge. I’ll check for you,” I said.

Standing too, Corky said, “That’s all right. I’ll check myself. But you walk first so I can stare at your ass.”

“It would be my pleasure. I’ve been using the stair climber at the gym. Can you tell?”

Only because he was Corky, I let him squeeze my ass. “Sweet,” he said.

We grabbed our beers and a container of salted mixed nuts and headed back to the patio. Through the screen door, I could see Paul laughing.

“Did I miss something?” I asked.

“Who’s Ryan?” Paul asked.

“Who’s—Wait, is that my phone?”

“Yeah. Who’s Ryan?”

“Why?”

“Cuz you just missed his call.” As Paul said this, he raised his hand, along with my phone, in the air and out of my reach.

“Give me my phone!” I jumped up and grabbed the phone from his hand. “Jackass.”

“Who is he?”

I should have known the topic would come up quickly. “He’s the guy I’m dating. Satisfied?”

“I got one word for you, Steph,” Eric said.

Praying he was about to change the subject, I asked, “What?”

“Plastics.”

“You lost me,” Denise said.

“
The Graduate
reference. Steph’s new boytoy is a youngun,” Eric said.

“How old is he?” Hille asked. He directed the question to me and not Eric and with his eyes on mine, I felt myself blush and figured old habits died hard.

“He’s eighteen. Totally legal,” I said.

Hille continued to look at me as if inviting further details. His expression reflected amused interest, but not signs of jealousy.

“He’s turning thirty in July! Older than three people sitting right on this balcony. Give it a rest. So when are Andy and Rachel getting here?”

“Monday afternoon,” Paul said. “I need to find a way to return his porn collection without Rachel seeing.”

Jess took a deep inhale of Eric’s rum and coke. “He lent you his entire porn collection?” she asked. “I thought he needed it to fall asleep at night.”

Hope leaned over, rubbed Paul’s leg and said, “He didn’t lend him the entire collection—just a bunch of DVDs. Right, Hon?”

“Yup,” Paul said.

“You knew about this?” I asked Hope.

“Kinda.”

Hille, who had just gotten up said, “Thanks for the insight into your sex life, Hope. My turn to refill my drink. Anyone?” When he turned to look at me, I shook my head and said, “No thanks. But I’m going in for a bit too.”

In an almost accusatory tone, Paul asked, “Calling your boyfriend?”

“Yes, in fact, I am. You got a problem with that?” Without waiting for the answer I turned back towards Hille but he had already gone inside. I followed his lead, sat on one of the couches in the living room and called Ryan back.

“Hey you,” I said when he answered.

“Hey. Just wanted to make sure you got there alive.”

“Just barely. Sorry I missed your call. Paul stole my phone.”

“Interesting. Doesn’t he have his own?”

“He does. But it’s more fun to torture me. In full disclosure, they’re mocking me endlessly over the fact that you’re younger than me.” I looked up in time to catch Hille on his way back outside. He smiled and closed the screen door behind him, leaving me alone to talk to Ryan.

Ryan chuckled. “From what you told me about those guys, I’m not surprised. Don’t let it get to you and, whatever you do, don’t get back together with Paul.”

“You’re not sincerely concerned about that, are you? Not gonna happen.”

“Not really concerned. Okay so I’m guessing you guys are already drinking heavily?”

I glanced at the almost empty beer in my hand. “Starting to, yes.”

“You go imbibe. Drunk dial me later.”

“Will do!”

“Cool.”

I could clearly visualize him holding his phone while playing hacky sack in his living room. “Miss you,” I said.

“Me too. Talk soon.”

“Bye.”

After we hung up, I joined the gang outside. Hope and Paul were showing the others the gift bag they had made for Andy. Among other ‘treats,’ it came with an inflatable cow, vagina flashlight, balloon boobies and masturbation cream.

Yes, my friends were some sick folks.

Later that night, after several beers and a family-style dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread, courtesy of Jess and Hope, a few of us decided to take a walk to the ocean. The pathway to the beach was a few houses down.

Navigating the rickety wooden bridge running from the house to the beach reminded me of my two summers at Camp Pocono Hills when I was a kid. Aiming my flashlight at the path in front of me, I said, “I feel like I’m in sleep away camp and sneaking my way to boy’s campus in the middle of the night.”