Between Friends

by Amanda Cowen

  For a moment I actually question if they all heard my insatiable thoughts about Ben. I blush and glance around my group of friends, feeling like a transparent mess. I purposely do not look at Ben, but from the corner of my eye I see a small grin form at the tip of his lips hidden by his cup of coffee. Before I can even defend myself against Eric’s accusations, Jessica chimes in a singsong voice, “I bet I know why.”

  I nervously bite my nails and insist it’s because I had a really good sleep. But Jessica cuts me off, “I found Marco’s hat in her room this morning.”

  I hear Ben choke on his coffee and let out a small chuckle.

  Eric moans, “Not that douche bag.”

  Michael quickly adds, “Really Megan? I don’t want to have to double date with Mr. Know-It-All ever again.”

  In Marco’s defense, he was a PhD student with hopes of becoming a Professor. Around the time he ended things with me, he landed a contract lecturer job at the University of Chicago teaching Physics. He may have been a tad overwhelming and extremely outspoken when it came to his opinions and what he believed, but he was a decent guy with a big heart. I always suspected our eventual breakup just came down to the fact he didn’t find me intellectually compatible. Especially after I indicated my belief in psychics, which I know is ridiculous, but after watching TLC’s “Long Island Medium” series, I am truly a believer.

  “You slept with Marco last night?” Ben innocently asks and tilts his head in my direction.

  “No, I did not.” I say and unzip my sweater to stop puddles from forming under my armpits.

  “Well, she did say they just talked.” Jessica says batting her eyes at me, “But I think Eric’s right. You do have a guilty glow.”

  I roll my eyes and watch Jessica share a giggle with Stephanie and Michelle. I snap at them to mind their own business and push in front of my group of friends. I can feel Ben’s eyes follow me as I storm away, which only makes me extra uncomfortable. Thankfully, the lady at the counter finally calls us up to check-in for our flight.

  Once I get to my seat, I pop a few gravel tablets for some much needed shut eye. Flying has always made me nervous. The main reason is because I can never seem to wrap my head around how something so incredibly large and heavy can literally float on air. It just seems physically impossible. More importantly, ever since 9/11, the fear of being trapped in a confined space millions of feet in the air with virtual strangers who could be potential terrorists makes me ill. I have shared these insane rationalizations with Ben on a few occasions and even more so over the past few weeks leading up to this trip. He laughs and tells me I am way too neurotic, which may be true, but at least I am prepared for the worst.

  Michelle abruptly stops in the aisle, looks down at her ticket and moans. She grumbles something about being stuck beside Grandma Megan, just as I am pulling out my eye mask from my purse.

  “Hey Megan, trade me spots.” Stephanie shouts at me from across the aisle.

  “No thanks.” I decline when I notice Ben is sitting next to her. Had I slept alone last night, I would have gladly traded in a heartbeat. This time definitely not.

  I snuggle up against the window of the plane, listening to Stephanie and Michelle start a gossip filled discussion over the latest JLO scandal splashed on the front cover of an In-Style magazine one of them purchased at the gift shop. I hear Stephanie’s chipper voice promptly order morning mimosas’ from the flight attendant, making me happy I am about to slip off into la-la land.

  **

  I abruptly wake up to a hand caressing my shoulder. When my eyes flutter open, I see Ben sitting beside me. I think I stop breathing as he says, “Michelle traded spots with me once you fell asleep. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No that’s fine.” I say. Even though it totally isn’t.

  Ben smiles at me, and leans back in his seat, “I guess I’ll have to throw out that hat now.”

  “What hat?” I ask, playing dumb.

  “Oh, come on Megan.” Ben raises his voice, but then quickly brings it to a whispering tease, “Well, since everyone thinks it belongs to your ex-lover-boy Marco. I wouldn’t want to blow your cover.”

  “Only Jessica saw it.” I snarl, but then add with humor, “But just to be safe, I am going to torch it once I get back home.”

  Ben’s eyes soften and he runs his fingertip along my jawline, “Come on, it wasn’t that bad was it?”

  I blush feeling a knotted mess form in my stomach. I am too scared to answer and even more scared of the mishmash of unidentified feelings milling around in my brain. One look at Ben and I know things have changed. He looks at me differently. There is a mist in his eyes and a shadow of uncertainty plastered on his face. Where has my best friend gone? I don’t know what to say, so I force my gaze out the window, to catch my first glimpse of the tropical paradise.

  I am saved from any further discussion, when the impact of the wheels hits the landing strip. I nearly jump out of my skin from the jolt of friction, and see Ben catch me in clenched fists. He flashes me a coy grin and gently squeezes my hands for comfort. For a second, I want to squeeze his hand back and give him a kiss on the cheek, but the thought frightens me and I pull my hand away. Ben clenches his jaw, straightens up in his seat, and looks away. I am so confused. What is going on between us? I can barely handle being in his presence. I need to get off this plane.

  When the plane comes to a complete stop, Jessica jumps up from her seat and shouts out to every passenger, “We’re getting married!”

  Michael quickly yanks her down and scolds her for making a scene. Michelle and Stephanie give a few claps and cheers, while Eric and Matthew share a high five. Jessica pushes Michael away, “What is the big deal Michael? I am excited! Aren’t you?”

  Michael proceeds to explain he is excited, but shouting out to the whole entire plane of people who don’t care is tacky. Unfortunately, because they are sitting directly behind me, I hear Jessica let out a groan and say in a high pitch whine, “Well maybe they do care.” Then she pauses and leans over my seat to involve me in their argument, “Right Megan?”

  I hate when she involves me in their constant bickers, but I smile at Jessica and say, “Of course everyone cares.”

  Jessica proudly grins and makes my words the final closure she needed to win the battle. When it is our turn to funnel off the plane, she tosses her large tote over her shoulder, flicks her long blonde hair in Michael’s face and leads the way off the plane to plant our feet on the luscious Costa Rican soil.

  The heat makes my skin itch and the baking sun warms my brow. I love travelling anywhere tropical, mostly because of the intoxicating smell of coconut and ocean all mixed together. It just ignites something deep inside me. I have been looking forward to this vacation for a long time. But if I am ever going to survive this trip, I need to stay as far away from Ben as possible.

  Chapter 4

  Just pinch me. How could this paradise actually be my reality? The rolling hills and luscious greenery is the perfect backdrop to the gorgeous villas spread out across the resort. The shuttle winds down the cobblestone roads, and takes us on a scenic tour of the impressive grounds. I sit back and let my hair blow in the calm winds and listen to the sound of exotic birds chirping in the distance. My eyes widen to the sight of iguanas crawling through the grass and my ears perk up to monkeys howling in the trees. I am perfectly overwhelmed by the beauty of the vined and twisted trees and the scorching sun, because all these things make me feel like I am immersed my own private jungle.

  When the shuttle stops, the driver jumps out and hands us girls our luggage. He points to a massive villa overlooking a ravine, with stork-like birds bathing in its water. He swipes our key card and pushes open the double paned glass doors. Stephanie and Michelle funnel inside, oohing and aweing over our extravagant amenities. I stay back, thank our driver and hand him a few dollar bills. As the shuttle begins to pull away, I wave goodbye to Matthew, Eric and Ben, still packed on board, pounding back their welcome drinks.


  Ben gives me a subtle wink and flashes his pearly white grin as they take off down the road. I don’t know why, but his actions send a prickling sensation up the back of my knees and make me feel a bit weak. Luckily, Stephanie squeals distracts me, and it reminds me to exhale.

  “Hey Megan get in here! This fridge is stocked!” Stephanie shouts as I roll my luggage into our villa.

  Michelle and Stephanie have already broken into the bar fridge. They rummage through with their perfectly manicured nails and pull out a few cans of beer. They giggle together at their findings and ask me if I want one, but I politely decline and start to unzip my suitcase. Michelle thrusts one at me, and insists that I have to have one. I shake my head and push her away. She rolls her eyes and waves her free hand in the air, “Oh Megan, lighten up.”

  Michelle briskly walks across our room, and immediately yanks out her makeup case while Stephanie plugs in her straightening iron. They prop themselves in front of the full-length mirror, and debate on using bronzer or blush for tonight’s dinner plans. Stephanie reaches back into her luggage, pulls out a tight fitting coral dress, and holds it up to her chest, “Well? What do you girls think? Is this the dress for tonight? Or should I wear something a little more risky?”

  I shrug and say it’s nice, and continue to unpack. Michelle on the other hand, furrows her brow and taps her index finger over her lips. A few minutes pass before she suggests, “I think you should go for something a little more island style.”

  I turn around and roll my eyes when Stephanie nods in agreement, because we aren’t even on an island! We are in Central America!

  I force myself away from their vain happenings, and sort out our three bride-maids dresses thrown on the sofa. I toss them over my forearm and neatly hang them up in the closet to ensure they don’t wrinkle. I am clipping the last hanger in place when I hear the phone ring. I shout out to Stephanie and Michelle to answer it, but they don’t hear me over their continual chitchat. I slam the closet door shut, tumble across the marble floor, trip over the straightening iron cord, and finally bounce off the sofa. Somehow, I manage to clasp the phone in my hand, just in time to muster a hello. I rub my bruised ribs and hear Jessica on the line.

  “Don’t forget our dinner reservations are at seven o’clock sharp.” Jessica says and then switches to a hushed whisper, “Listen Megan, I am counting on you. Please make sure Michelle and Stephanie, do not get too drunk before we meet everyone for dinner.”

  I glance over into the bathroom and see Stephanie shotgun a beer, while Michelle laughs and cheers her on. I heave out a heavy sigh, “Honestly Jessica, I can’t promise anything.”

  “Megan!” Jessica whines, “Michael’s parents are way too uptight for any kind of stupidity. As my maid of honor it is your duty to make sure this night isn’t a total disaster.”

  I bite down on my nails a tad bit worried about this sudden responsibility, because I know Stephanie and Michelle never listen to a word I say. Then just as we are about to get off the phone, Jessica adds, “Oh, and don’t forget to put on something sexy. Steven will be there. You don’t want to disappoint.”

  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, sn
eaks 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.