Mechanic with Benefits

by Mickey Miller

  “Sí!” she said, smiling brightly. “Nina.”

  “So good to see you,” I said, standing up half-heartedly from my chair. Jessica, at my feet, let out a low growl. She didn’t like it when I hugged most women. Nina smiled and gave me another hug, and pressing her enormous fake breasts into me. I felt her hands roam and had to make sure they didn’t roam too far south.

  “You never called me back!” she exclaimed, a scold in her voice. “I was worried something had happened to you!” Nina turned to Amy, who she had strategically ignored seeing for the first minute or so of our encounter. She leaned across the table, and I cringed as she gave Amy a pointblank view of her cleavage.

  “Nice to meet you.” She extended a hand. “I’m Nina.”

  Amy flashed a brief smile and returned her handshake. “I’m Amy.”

  “Amy’s a very good friend of mine,” I said. “We were just catching up.”

  “Oh, well so nice to meet you,” Nina said, giving a slow, equally fake smile. It was a little calculated.

  The waiter arrived with our food just then.

  “Looks like it’s time for us to eat. Talk to you later, Nina!” I said the words politely but firmly. I needed to get back to what Amy was going to say next. There was no way she was just going to throw the idea of us being romantic onto the table so suddenly, was there?

  “Of course,” Nina purred, her hands running up my arm. “Chandler, we must get together soon. Call me.”

  “Good to see you, Nina,” I said, giving her my best non-answer.

  She smiled toward us both before turning to leave. The waiter put our plates down in front of Amy and me.

  “Enjoy,” he said, bowing then leaving us be. Finally.

  “Sorry for the interruption,” I said, eager to get back to our conversation. I leaned forward, completely disinterested in my breakfast. “What were you saying?”

  Amy’s expression had altered again. She didn’t look sad or happy anymore. She just looked dejected, and blank.

  “Nothing,” she said, forking her food and looking down. “I had nothing else to say.”

  It really was like nothing had changed between us in those five years. And by that, I meant that we were right back to square one. Her rejection, and not just physically, would never fully be eased from my mind. For a few weeks, I’d had a real friend. Probably the best friend I’d ever had. As it turned out, even when I didn’t sleep with a girl, I still messed up the relationship part of things.

  I cut into my omelet, frustrated but not unfamiliar with this feeling. She was still the one girl who I’d stopped short of getting into bed. The one girl that I wanted to sleep with the most, had been waiting for…and here she was. A second chance? Maybe. In many ways, I knew Amy would have to make the first move because me pushing just made her retreat. She’d have to be the one okay with going to the next level when I already was and I knew I’d always be wishing.

  Because reality was rarely pretty. Of all the hearts I’d broken over the years, hers was one I could never forgive myself for breaking.

  The truth of the matter was that I’d never be able to be with a woman like Amy. She was far too good for me. I knew it, and so did she, deep down and that, too, was an old feeling. And a reason I kept forgetting when I looked at her, or remembered those small moments we had. Like dancing, or going to the bar and having a real conversation. The way she listened to me, and how easy she was at telling it like it is. The sensory memories of those more intimate moments between us had been seared into my brain and they were as vivid now, as they had been five years ago.

  And it was all so pointless.

  We ate awkwardly, in silence. The fact was that in spite of the palpable attraction there had always been between Amy and me, we both knew it was still for the best to keep each other at arm’s length.

  Sixteen

  Chandler

  After Nina’s appearance during lunch, our conversation took a turn for the more impersonal. We caught up on frivolous things—the things not close to our hearts but the things that would make us feel ‘up to date’ on each other’s lives. Amy had moved back to Chicago after college and started work for a sports PR firm. I sensed that I was only getting a small portion of the full story but with Amy, I’d have to be patient. She did admit that something felt off in her life, though, and why she had decided to come to Barcelona even though David had bailed on her. We sauntered back home, taking our time and letting Jess sniff to her heart’s content as we walked along the marina.

  “Sorry about our interruption at lunch. That was awkward,” I said. “Nina and I went on one date a while ago. I didn’t like her though.” I paused. “Honestly, I don’t remember a thing about what she said about herself, or anything. We didn’t mesh at all, so it was a pretty short-lived relationship. If you could even call it that.”

  “Oh yeah?” Amy shot me a look that conveyed she was not impressed by my latest dating mistake. “Did you sleep with her? No, you know what, don’t bother answering that. I’m pretty sure I know the answer.”

  Her words had knives in them, and I wasn’t too sure where the animosity was coming from. I narrowed my eyes. “I’m sensing some judgment coming from you.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just…I don’t know, Chandler. I’m hungover. And not in a good mood. And seeing you with her reminded me of something.”

  “And what was that?” I asked her, sharply.

  “It reminded me that I’ll never…” She trailed off and once again, I knew I’d only get to hear half of it. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

  We arrived at my apartment and walked up the stairs to the third floor. “You’ve been saying that a lot this morning,” I returned, unleashing Jess so she could go take her own nap. “About how something you’re about to say is silly or stupid.”

  “I’m going to take a nap. Do you mind?” she asked, ignoring me instead.

  “Course not,” I returned, not wanting to upset her more. I was really hoping this David guy hadn’t permanently damaged her self-confidence because the Amy I’d come to appreciate didn’t take crap from anyone. “I’m about to head to basketball practice anyway so it’ll be nice and quiet.”

  She assessed the living room. “Is the couch comfortable?”

  “Not at all.” I gestured for her to follow me. “This is my room,” I said, heading toward my room and flipping on the light since the blinds were shut. I looked around, seeing that Maria had cleaned up.

  “Your room…?” Amy echoed slowly. “You want me to sleep in…your…bed?”

  I looked over at her. “Why not?” I smiled. “And it looks like Maria changed the sheets for me. This room was a mess when I left.”

  “You mean…as in, Doña Maria?” she asked, confused.

  “Yep. We’ve always stayed in contact,” I replied. At hearing those words, the irony of it hit us both.

  Amy, of course, ignored that, too. “She changes your sheets now?” she asked, aloof.

  “When I’m gone she watches Jess at her apartment, then walks her back here so she can greet me the morning I get home,” I explained. On cue, Jess trotted after us but then lost interest in us and trotted back out. “Maria knows how much I hate flying home to an empty apartment. And sometimes she does some other homey stuff around the place.”

  “Nice of her.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I said. “Too she bad left the city this afternoon for the next few weeks or we could have a reunion. She’s going to a part of Spain with her boyfriend that’s pretty rural and poor reception; otherwise, I’d call her up. I know she’d love to see you after all this time…”

  “Oh? That would have been nice, actually,” she said, rubbing her eyes, “how is she?”

  “Just had a baby boy in December,” I said, shaking my head but grinning. “Can you believe it, at her age? That guy from five years ago. Match made in heaven, I guess.”

  I don’t think Amy was paying attention to anything I was saying about our former host mother bec
ause she was yawning non-stop. I pulled the sheets and comforter back for her.

  “Well, I’m going to head to bed,” she said, sounding exhausted. “This time change is killing me. You’re not tired?”

  “A little. I’ll go to practice, then come home and crash most likely.” I headed to the door. Over my shoulder I added, “Have a good nap.”

  Saying nothing, she collapsed on the bed, not bothering to shut the door. I refilled Jessica’s water and peaked in the fridge. Doña Maria had left some Spanish tortilla inside as well as a note.

  For my special little boy.

  She babied me, but I didn’t mind it. And her Spanish tortilla was second to none in my book. I walked over to my room to let Amy know about the food in case she was hungry when she woke up.

  “Hey Amy, if—”

  She was dead passed out, with the lights still on, holding onto one of my pillows for a cuddle partner.

  “All right then. Goodnight.”

  She looked so damn peaceful sleeping there. In my bed. It’s a Cal King and we’d both fit on it just fine. I tried not to keep thinking things like that but I couldn’t help it. Sex wasn’t the only thing I thought about when it came to this woman but it sure as hell took precedence over everything else sometimes. With Amy passed out, I quietly grabbed my workout clothes and changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt in my bathroom. Before I left, I took off her shoes, tucked her in, and wrote her a little note for when she woke up. With that, I picked up my bag from the closet and headed to practice.

  ***

  “We’re playing Serbia tomorrow,” our head coach said in his accented English. The twelve of us huddled before practice. “They are a powerhouse, and it’s not going to be easy. But if we can beat them, it shows we’re one of the best teams in the league. If not the best.” He paused, then looked at Tony. “What’s our strategy Le Ral?”

  Tony Le Ral, our resident Frenchmen, answered, “We need to score from the outside, establish the three-point game early.”

  “Exactly. Spiros, this is a big game for you tomorrow,” he said, turning to me. “We need you to come ready to shoot tomorrow. Can you handle that?”

  “One hundred and ten percent, Coach.”

  I looked around at our motley crew of guys, hailing from all parts of Europe and me, the lone American, and had to smile a little. I wasn’t short by normal standards, but at six feet three inches I was the shortest guy in the bunch. We had a seven footer from Morocco. Le Ral was six feet seven. The Spaniards were all in the six foot eight range. Yet I was the guy who our offensive scheme lived and died by. It was a lot of pressure, but I had always fed off it.

  “All right, let’s break into drills,” Coach said.

  After a few hours of sweating, running, scrimmaging, and being yelled at by our coaches, we broke for the showers.

  “All right fellas. That’s a wrap,” Coach boomed.

  I was heading towards the locker room with Le Ral at my side when Coach waved me over. “Yeah, Coach?” I asked, a little antsy to get going. I hoped to God that Amy didn’t suddenly wake up and get proactive about finding a hotel. I was really hoping I’d get to come home with her still there.

  “So Spiros,” he said, grabbing me by the arm. “What the hell happened out there today?”

  I frowned, a little confused. “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “You were playing inspired today,” Coach said, his accent thicker then usual, which only happened when he got agitated, or excited. “Like you had something to lose, for once. Usually you play well, but I haven’t seen you that energetic all season.”

  Not exactly a rave review of my performance this year but I knew where he was coming from.

  “Not sure what got into me,” I said, evading his indirect question. I definitely had a theory about what had me so worked up today. I didn’t think my coach wanted to hear some drawn out story about how the one girl that got away had suddenly chanced her way back into my life, though, so I stayed silent.

  “Well, whatever it is, keep it up.” Coach was grinning. I just nodded as he slapped me hard on the back. “We’re going to need that energy for this Friday’s game. See you tomorrow.”

  “Hi? Amy? I’m home.” My voice echoed through my apartment as I rattled the door open. Jessica ran up to greet me but she had more important duties to attend to: scraps falling on the floor.

  I smiled, inhaling deep. Smells of home cooking filled the air. On occasion, Maria would cook for me but it was somehow different with Amy at the helm.

  “Hey you.” Amy’s sweet voice came from the direction of my kitchen.

  “Hey there,” I returned. I tossed my bag to the side of the door and noticed that her suitcase was no longer nearby but mine still was. I walked over to where she and Jess were. She was turned away from me, facing the stove, and I took a full few seconds to register that the sexy woman I was staring at was Amy. “You rest up?”

  “Yeah, I slept really well. Is that memory foam?”

  “Yeah.”

  Amy continued cooking, and I couldn’t turn away. Her black yoga pants hugged her hips. She wore a light blue t-shirt, and her hair was made up in a messy bun. Did she always have such a beautiful, round ass? How had I never noticed the extent of this before?

  I questioned it in my own head as I stood a few feet away from her. Right here, right now, my cock was urging me to grab her from behind and lay kisses from her neck to her shoulder.

  I rubbed my eyes with my fingertips, trying to snap myself out of whatever this daydream was.

  Self control, Spiros. Self Control.

  She turned around, spatula in her hand.

  “Everything okay?” she asked. She squinted at me.

  “Oh, I’m fine. Just thinking about something my coach said.” You know, about how I was loaded with energy today.

  As Amy came back into focus, she caught me staring right at her tits. I could see her nipples through her shirt and I didn’t look away.

  I know, but can you blame a guy? She had on a low V-neck top, basically daring me to look at them.

  I glanced up at her face. Her look told me everything. Amy wasn’t dumb.

  “You’re not wearing a bra,” I said, in my defense.

  “Glad you noticed.” She smiled at me then turned back to the stove, as if my comment wasn’t a big deal. “You really take note everything about me, don’t you?”

  “Can’t help it. By the way, that’s a nice, uh, pendant you have there. A pizza necklace?”

  “I’m surprised you happened to catch that while you were staring at my tits.” She cocked her head over her shoulder at me, smirking at me.

  There was no use lying to this woman. Plus, I wasn’t much of a bullshitter anyway. So I might as well full on embrace what we both knew was true.

  “Fine, Squirt. You caught me gawking at your boobs. I admit it.” I took a few steps toward her so we were only a foot apart. “I should bring up the time I caught you staring at my junk after you hid in the shower to try and stalk me.”

  “Oh, that’s how it went down?” She spun around and grinned. “Bringing up the past, are we? I’m pretty sure you’re the one who forgot to knock.”

  I crossed my arms and fired back at her with my own shit-eating grin. “And the impasse continues. I guess we’ll never know who wanted to see who naked that fateful morning.”

  She caught my glance, and we stared at each other for a beat more than we had to.

  How many times had we done this dance? I saw what she wanted in her eyes—me—and I don’t hide the fact that I want her. Then, now…here.

  I felt my cock twitch in my jeans.

  Fuck, that damn dirty mind of mine.

  “So.” I changed the subject, looking over her shoulder. “Making some Spanish tortilla?”

  “Your favorite.” She brushed her hand along my shoulder and bicep. It was a tiny gesture, but from her it seemed like more. I wanted more of her touch.

  “You remember I like Spanish tor
tilla?”

  She turned around and shifted the sizzling eggs and potatoes in the pan. I could feel the warmth coming from her direction, and I wasn’t sure if it was from Amy or the stove. “As I recall, you like it with a heavy egg ratio with more eggs then potatoes, because it aids your recovery for basketball. Is that right?”

  “Holy shit, just marry me now,” I joked. Although I never wanted to get married, I was becoming more and more curious what it would be like to date her. Friendship Pact be damned.

  She paused before laughing. “What a crazy idea,” she deflected, her eyes glancing down into the pan. “Although, we would have great kids. Sexy ones.”

  “Yes, we would,” I said. And for a second, I wondered what our kids would look like. I shook my head at myself. “But I’d make a terrible dad.”

  She glanced over at me, her expression shuttered. Here I was, being all clueless with this one. Why was it the ones you really liked were the ones you couldn’t figure out? When it came to Amy, it was like all the rules I thought I knew about bedding women went flying out the window. She was a tough nut to crack. All I had was one, ten second kiss five years ago that had given me any small hope that she really thought of me like that.

  She spoke again. “You’ve got some low marriage standards if all I’ve got to do is remember what food you like—”

  “Maybe we have equally low standards,” I said, cutting her off and staying far away from the topic of marriage as possible. I lightly tapped my fingers on the countertop.

  She gave an awkward and equally forced laugh before giving the Spanish tortilla one more pat in the pan with the spatula. “I guess we really are perfect for each other, two people with low expectations.” With her spatula, she pointed to me. Jess’s eyes were riveted but no crumbs feel from it. “It’s almost done. Ready to sit down and eat?”

  I nodded.

  “Great. Where is your dinner table?” she asked, pointedly glancing around my bachelor pad.

  “Cute,” I said dryly. “That’s real cute, Squirt. Jessica and I are a ‘dinner on the couch’ kind of household.”