by Amanda Cowen
“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 with a snarl.
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-honour 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-honour 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 makes my heart palpitate 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.
I hear Jessica’s voice, prompting me with a high pitched “Okay?”
I have zoned out to the point of entirely missing what she was talking about. I nod in agreement and worry I have just signed my life away.
“Yay!” She exclaims and leans across the table. She stirs her straw amongst the ice cubes in her drink then adds, “I am so happy you agree. I knew you would love to end your speech off by preforming our rendition of “Baby Got Back” that we choreographed in fifth grade. It would be such a great finishing touch.”
I choke on my drink, and let out a few coughs, “Really? You think?”
“Oh Megan! I knew you weren’t listening!” She pulls her straw out from her drink, and flicks limey droplets in my face, “Like I would make you do that! But honestly, this speech is important to me. You know that.”
“I know” I say wiping the sticky substance from my cheek, “I’m sorry. I promise it will be the best speech you have ever heard.”
Jessica smiles, “It better be.” and gives me a great big drunk hug.
Within no time, the bar is closing and we are the only ones left. The servers tidy up around us, and I know from my previous stint as a server in university, that this is the staff’s polite way of telling you to get the hell out.
“Let’s go back to our villa” Stephanie exclaims to entice the others.
Of course Matthew and Eric agree, but level headed Michael kisses the top of Jessica’s head, and decides for both of them to call it a night. Jessica forces a small protest, but with a final yawn, she gives in to Michael’s better notions as they head off to their villa.
“Maybe we should all go to bed.” I say with a yawn.
“Why are you always such a party pooper?” Michelle says and slams back the rest of her drink.
“I am not party pooping, I am just being reasonable. Besides, it’s one-thirty in the morning.” I reply.
“We are on vacation Megan!” Eric shouts and nudges me as he grazes by my side. “Lighten up.”
Ben laughs at Eric’s comment and teasingly gives me a pout. I roll my eyes at him and shout to everyone walking away from me, “All of you are going to be sorry in the morning.”
They all ignore me, and chatter amongst themselves continuing their pursuit to our villa. Ben lingers at my side, and drapes an arm around my shoulders to follow behind everyone else. Once we are halfway to our villa, he gives my hair a playful ruffle and whispers, “Play along with me.”
Before I can even ask him what he is talking about, he stops dead in his tracks and shouts to everyone up ahead, “Megan left her purse at the restaurant. We’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
I turn bright red, thankful it is pitch black outside. I am thrilled and nervous in anticipation of what he has in mind. Our friends mumble a mixture of whatever, and see you soon, as Ben and I watch them fade into the dark of the night.
“Are you crazy?” I laugh and push away from him, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Ben yanks my arm and pulls me into his chest. He places his chin on my head and holds me in his arms, “I wanted to be alone with you.”
His words form a tiny prickle behind my knees. He slides his hands down my back, and slips one hand to entwine in my fingers. He kisses the top of my head and tugs me in the opposite direction to lead us down to the pool area.
The water is still and glistens from the lights reflected in the pool. Ben kicks off his sandals, rolls up his pants, and sticks his feet in the water. He waves me over to sit beside him and I do. I slip off my sandals and plunk my feet into the cool calm waters.
The first thing Ben says is, “Would you rather be able to talk with animals or be able to speak all foreign languages?”
I of course laugh at his ability to come up with ridiculous things right on the spot, “Obviously I would rather be able to talk with animals. You know how much I love them.”
“Yeah, but if you could speak all languages, you could eavesdrop on all the foreigners conversations” He tries to argue.
“Yeah, but when does that ever happen?” I say.
“Well you could travel the world and communicate wherever you went.” Ben says matter-of-factly.
“Well whenever I get around to doing that, I’ll let you know.”
“Can I come with you when you do?” He innocently asks.
I roll my eyes, “Trust me, if I ever find myself booking a trip around the world, you’ll be the first person I tell.”
Ben smiles and picks up my hand up from the cement edge of the pool. He puts it up to his lips, gently kisses it and places it back onto my lap. He lifts his eyes to meet mine and slowly moves away. He leans back and peels off his shirt, then tosses it onto the deck of the pool.
“What are you doing?” I shout in a hushed whisper. Ben places his index finger over my lips and silences me. He slides off his pants and dips into the water wearing nothing but his underwear.
“Are you coming in?” He asks, amused by my look of horror.
“We’re not allowed to go in the pool past eleven. It’s against the rules.” I say.
Ben tilts his head to the side, blinking his dark framed lashes in my direction. I cross my arms and legs, refusing to join him. I turn my head to the side, “I am not coming in there. We are going to get caught.”
But Ben doesn’t seem to understand the word no, and doesn’t ever take rejection lightly. He glides over in my direction and places his arms on either side of my dangling legs, “If you don’t come in yourself, I am going to yank you in fully clothed.”
“No you’re not.” I entice him, calling him on what I think is a bluff.
“I am giving you one last chance. Are you coming in? Yes or No?” he asks and teasingly presses his chest against my knees with a smug grin.
I pretend to debate his request, by coyly placing my index finger on the side of my chin and tilt my head in contemplation. Ben basks in my playful demeanor and starts to wrap his arms around my back. I quickly push his strong forearms away, “Ben this isn’t funny! Let go!”
I squirm from his grasp, but he laughs and grabs hold of my hips. I try to resist him, but he pulls me away from the ledge of the pool, and before I can even pull my feet out of the water, Ben takes total control of my body. I let out a shr
ill scream when he submerges me into the cool waters. I pop my head out, gasping for air, and see him standing in front of me roaring with laughter. I wipe away the wet strands of hair clamped against my face, and burst out laughing with him.
My laughter hurts my cheeks as I dunk my hair back into the water and smooth it out. I look back up, and see a clear image of Ben in the dim lights surrounding the pool. He looks gorgeous with his dark hair ruffled and wet. The water drips down his smooth tanned chest and trickles into the water. He moves closer to me, and runs his thumb along my cheek. I stand still, watching his dark eyes study my face. Suddenly Ben grabs onto my hips and our laughter stops. He slowly yanks my dress over my body, but I don’t resist. Instead I raise my hands in the air and let him leave me in my bra and panties.
He tosses my dress to the deck of the pool and my knees almost give out. His hands cup my butt and he picks me up. I slip my arms around his shoulders and wrap my legs around his waist. Just as still as the waters have become, so have we. We don’t move or say another word as he leans in and gently kisses me. His lips are so soft and tender, but this time, something about our kiss is different than it was before. It is a moment I want to freeze in time forever. Our kiss is slow and steady. It is a kiss you think you would only see in the movies, or a kiss you could only imagine you might have some day with someone you trust with all you heart. Or maybe even someone you love.
Sparks rise between us, as Ben’s hands creep between my things. I let him run his fingers in my warm insides and I kiss him harder becoming lost in his touch. The cool water nipping against my skin, mixed with the heat from Ben’s chest pressed against mine has me melting in his arms. I love the way he makes me feel. I am not worrying about whether this is right or wrong, or questioning if our friendship will be ruined. For once, the only thing I feel inside is beautiful.
