The Boyfriend Swap

by Meredith Schorr

I stood before him, too antsy to sit down. “Which couple are we talking about?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s put aside Will and Sidney for now. Although if I were Sidney, I’d be a smidge worried about the way my boyfriend was looking at another girl.” He made a tsk-tsk sound.

  My stomach rolled uncomfortably.

  “Let’s talk about you and Perry. You’ve been with him almost a year. Shouldn’t you be ready to take it up a notch by now?”

  I grimaced. “You sound like Will.”

  James tapped a finger to his lips. “No comment.” He studied my face. “I worry you’re wasting your time with him. We’re almost thirty.”

  “I never considered it wasting time if I was enjoying myself. Life is short. And I’m not going to dignify your last statement with a response.” I shuddered for emphasis even though his words had hit home. Unlike many of my single girlfriends, I wasn’t plagued by the “when” in terms of getting married and raising a family, but serious about Perry or not, I questioned whether I should be in a long-term relationship with one guy when I was clearly struggling with unresolved feelings for someone else.

  “And then you die. Although I can list far worse ways of going than all tangled up in Perry.”

  James always had a way with words. “I think you missed your calling. You should have been a writer instead of a teacher.” We were like twins from another mother. Both of us had music in our hearts but chose a career path in education. James taught English as a second language at the high school level. “Enough about me. How are things going with Spencer?” Spencer was James’s long-term partner.

  “Spencer is splendid, thank you.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Even though I desperately wanted to change the subject, I also genuinely cared about the status of James’s first serious relationship. But I was also freezing. “Can we go back in now?” When he nodded, I handed him his jacket and led the way inside and over to where Will and his friends were standing at the bar.

  With narrowed eyes, Will glanced from James to me as if he knew we’d spent the last five minutes dishing about him. “You guys need a drink?” he asked.

  I shook my head while debating whether I should stand closer to Will like a “real” girlfriend would. I looked to him for guidance, and as if reading my mind, he reached out his hand and pulled me so I was leaning with my back against his chest with his hands resting on my shoulders. I took a sip of my now lukewarm beer and tried to ignore the curious glances Will’s friend Leon, a tall guy with nearly platinum hair and pale blue eyes, was throwing in our direction. Back in high school, Leon had a reputation as a player, the label assigned when he dated a girl for several months and dumped her as soon as she’d slept with him—every virgin’s nightmare. The statute of limitations had probably expired on that particular crime by now. Still, I’d always wondered what Will got out of their friendship.

  Pointing at Will (and technically me since I was leaning against him), Leon asked, “Didn’t you say your girlfriend was a redhead?”

  I hoped it was Leon’s intoxication, evidenced by his bloodshot eyes and pronounced Philly accent (his “didn’t” sounded more like “ditint”), that made him think it was appropriate to ask about a former girlfriend in front of a new one—pretend or not. But I wouldn’t bet on it.

  “It didn’t work out,” Will said, stealing my line—the one I’d borrowed from Sidney.

  Leon frowned. “Too bad. Wasn’t she the one you said gave great—”

  “We broke up,” Will interrupted in a loud voice, but anyone over the age of thirteen could probably have completed Leon’s sentence. My body tensed against Will’s and he made a show of squeezing my shoulders. I couldn’t tell if he was playing the role of the gallant boyfriend or if he sensed my actual discomfort. Either way, I was grateful my face was hidden from his sight since I was certain it looked like I’d dived headfirst into a bowl of tomato soup. If I’d wanted details on Sidney’s oral skills, I would have asked him thirty minutes before when he’d announced how sexy she was.

  Since I was his girlfriend in name only, I had no right to be so uncomfortable. Then again, since a bona fide new girlfriend might genuinely be upset under the circumstances, I could probably get away with expressing my discomfort by later claiming it was all part of the act. Only, I knew if Will really was my boyfriend, I wouldn’t care what someone said about one of his exes because I’d be secure in what we had. The only reason I was upset now was because I was insecure and I wasn’t his girlfriend; Sidney was.

  Pulling myself out of my head, I gave James a “whatcha gonna do” look and a half shrug.

  James scrunched up his lips and gazed straight ahead to where historical photographs decorated the wall. “Robyn, what did you used to call your ex, Perry?” He scratched his cheek, appearing to contemplate, and then his face lit up. “The Phoenix. Right? Because he could go on and on and—”

  “James.” My mouth dropped open, but quickly snapped shut when I felt the involuntary tickle of a laugh in my throat. I inched away from Will, who had let go of me like I was a hot potato.

  “What?” James asked, playing dumb.

  He was so wrong, yet I wasn’t sure I’d ever loved him more. “Can we change the subject?”

  James shrugged. “I was merely pointing out that Will wasn’t the only one with a …” He cleared his throat. “…skilled ex.”

  “Thank you for sharing another one of Perry’s winning attributes with us,” Will muttered.

  I felt Will’s stare and reluctantly met his gaze. I couldn’t gauge his expression—sadness, resignation, disgust? Was he concerned Perry was practicing his superior stamina on Sidney?

  “It makes complete sense to me,” said Oliver, interrupting my thoughts. He was another regular fixture by Will’s side during high school. But it was a friendship I understood, especially after getting to know Will better over the last couple of days. Oliver was as good-natured as Leon was crude. And even though he was also in the drama club, he managed to avoid the “theater-kid geek” stereotype.

  Will and I broke eye contact and faced Oliver. At the same time, we said, “Huh?”

  Oliver smiled. “You two as a couple. I can see it. I was there the night you guys kissed for the first time. At least I assume it was the first time.” He raised a dark eyebrow.

  I gasped out loud and quickly clapped my hand against my mouth. I wasn’t prepared for someone to mention The Kiss on the assumption that no one remembered it besides me. My hands shook and I placed my near-empty bottle on the bar as a safety precaution. I couldn’t look at Will.

  “You remember their kiss from ten years ago? Kind of creepy,” Leon said, pointing the bottom of his empty Yuengling bottle at Oliver with a smirk.

  Oliver ran a hand through his light brown hair. When he smiled, a dimple greeted us from each cheek. “I thought Snow White was hot. I was hoping I’d be the one to kiss you,” he said to me.

  My mouth dropped open. Oliver always waved hello when he passed me in the hallways and even stopped by my locker from time to time. And he invited me to his parties, but I never interpreted his attentiveness as romantic interest. He was cute too, with light brown eyes the same color as his hair and, of course, those dimples. “How come you never asked me out?” I asked quietly.

  He shrugged. “I could tell you weren’t into me.”

  I didn’t bother to refute the statement since he was right. How could I appreciate Oliver’s appeal when I was too busy pining over his out-of-my-league best friend?

  “Dude. Stop hitting on your buddy’s girl,” said Leon, rolling his eyes at Oliver.

  “I’m not hitting on her.” Oliver glanced at Will. “I’m not.”

  “I need some fresh air,” Will said. Without another word, he removed his beer from the bar and walked to the porch.

  “Way to go, asshole. Now he’s pissed.” Leon moti
oned to the bartender for another round while Oliver and I exchanged confused glances.

  “If he’s upset, it’s not about my ‘true confession.’ Not Will’s style,” said Oliver before taking a sip of his beer.

  James tossed me my coat before motioning toward the porch. He whispered, “Go.”

  I walked outside and closed the door behind me, hoping when I opened my mouth, a coherent sentence would magically fall from my lips. But before I could say anything, Will said, “Snow.” I wondered how he knew it was me since he was sitting down and facing the other direction.

  Reading my mind, he said, “It’s your perfume. It smells like a sugary lemon. It’s nice.” He turned around to face me. “Sit.”

  I grimaced as my butt hit the cold surface of the chair. I didn’t know what to say.

  Will frowned. “I’m sorry about what Leon said. Please don’t think I go around objectifying my girlfriends. He left out the context of the conversation.”

  I snickered. “Yes. Only the most high-brow philosophical discussions would result in your touting your girlfriend’s talents,” I teased before darting my eyes toward the wood floor of the porch. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “It matters to me.” He took a sip of his beer. “I’m also sorry I reacted so badly to James’s comment about Perry.”

  “Is it because you’re worried about Sidney spending the holiday weekend with ‘The Phoenix?’” He’d already proclaimed his trust in Sidney on the drive from the city, but it was the most logical explanation for why he was so upset. I couldn’t allow myself to think there might be another reason he hated Perry so much.

  Will scraped his fingers through his hair and studied my face in silence before standing up. “Mind if we get out of here soon?” Without awaiting my response, he opened the door and motioned for me to go in before him.

  I instinctively opened my mouth to respond before his words registered. I stammered. “Um, sure. Let me say goodbye to James first?” The sentence came out like a question even though there was no way I’d leave without telling James.

  Focusing on something behind me, Will said, “Whatever you need,” and backed up an inch.

  I took a step forward and touched my hand to his shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

  Flinching, he said, “I’m just beat, Robyn,” before scanning the restaurant again. “I’ll be with the guys. Come get me when you’re ready, cool?”

  I nodded, and as I stared as his retreating back, it dawned on me this was the first time since we’d arrived in Philly that he’d called me Robyn instead of Snow.

  “You look like you’re about to cry,” James said, breaking me out of my trance.

  I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Something’s not right with Will.” I told James what transpired. I kept my voice down and barely moved my lips. In case Will was looking, I wanted him to think we were saying our goodbyes.

  James pursed his lips. “The guy is so jealous, the green in his eyes is blinding.”

  “Of Perry being with Sidney, right?” It was the obvious explanation. Sidney was sexy, and I’d observed the way Will’s eyes glowed when he talked about her. But I hadn’t imagined some of the tender glances he’d thrown my way. Had I? I held my breath, hoping, wishing…for what? I didn’t even know what I wanted.

  “Something like that.” He smirked. “More like, nothing like that. He’s jealous of Perry because Perry is your boyfriend, obvi.”

  “I don’t know, James.” I scratched my head as my stomach churned in a cocktail of conflicting emotions.

  James drew me into a hug and rested his head on mine. “You’re the Andie to his Blane.”

  I laughed as I pulled away. “I love you, James.”

  “Back at you, Snow. Talk to him and call me immediately afterward.”

  I gulped. “I will.”

  Chapter 11

  Sidney

  Shutting the door of my room behind me, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to erase Perry’s smug expression from my mind’s eye and the image of him laughing in my face. Why on Earth Robyn dated him voluntarily was a mystery. I’d been his fake girlfriend for less than forty-eight hours, and I couldn’t stand the sight of him. December twenty-sixth couldn’t come soon enough—he’d be out of my life for good. I’d deal with the aftermath of my fake breakup when the time came. For now, I’d focus on the big picture. Perry’s repugnant disposition was an unforeseen bump in the road, but the boyfriend swap was working in the one way that mattered. My parents were none the wiser regarding Will and therefore not a threat to our relationship. The coils in my belly settled down at the thought.

  I hoped Will was getting along with Robyn’s family and wondered if the Lanes were anything like the Bellows. I doubted it. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that instead of providing a fancy catered dinner, the Lanes dragged Will to a shelter to feed the homeless. Amused at the thought, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was late, but not obscenely so. I called Will back, but it went into voicemail after four rings. After leaving a brief message, I hung up and got ready for bed. I wasn’t sure if my heavy eyelids and aching limbs were a result of spending the day working with my father or plotting against Perry, but either way, I was knackered.

  After turning the light off in my room, I curled under the covers and closed my eyes underneath my Morgan Lane silk charmeuse “To The Moon and Back” sleep mask. I inhaled the lavender-scented fragrance of my freshly washed pillowcase and breathed in and out slowly through my nose, assuming sleep would come quickly, but it didn’t. I wasn’t a stranger to insomnia and had a full-range of exercises to get me through the sleepless nights. I didn’t count sheep, but I did add up other things—victories at work, guys I’d kissed, etc. When those failed, I would visualize myself at the gym and tally the number of bicep curls or push-ups I did in my mind. But even as my body cried for shuteye, my mind wouldn’t shut down. Hating to waste waking hours lying in bed, I removed my eye mask, turned on my bedroom light, and started up my computer.

  The search screen on Facebook was my first stop, and my fingers keyed the letters on autopilot as if it hadn’t been years since I’d spelled out the name of my last serious boyfriend: Jake Harrington. Holding my breath, I clicked “enter” and waited for the results to come up. My Jake was the top result because of our mutual friends. I brought my head closer to the screen in anticipation but quickly pulled it back as his profile picture stared back at me. The photo was of a guy bouncing a little boy on each of his knees—identical twins. Thinking it might not be Jake, I scrutinized the photo more carefully. Wavy sandy-brown hair that curled around his ears reminiscent of a Hollywood teen idol from the 1970s—check; greenish gray eyes with premature lines around the edges—check; golden complexion as if he belonged on a beach—check. It was definitely Jake. But who were the little boys? An only child with no nieces and nephews, I had no idea how to gauge the age of anyone under ten, but they appeared to be somewhere between one and two years old. I supposed it was possible Jake could have gotten hitched and sown his seed in the last three or so years, but my best friend Lisa would never have kept something like that from me. She was friends with Jake in high school and connected us by email the first week of college and we’d hit it off. They’d stayed in touch after we broke up. If Jake had gotten himself a ball and chain, wouldn’t Lisa have let me know? Then again, as far as Lisa was concerned, and everyone else for that matter, I’d broken up with him and never looked back. Maybe Lisa didn’t keep me posted on Jake’s life because she didn’t think I’d care, and she knew I’d tell her so.

  I tried to picture Jake as a father. Once, before we broke up, I’d told him I’d be up all night finishing a paper. This was when I was a law student at Colombia and he was still at Cornell getting his Masters. Jake drove from Ithaca to the city—a five-hour drive—with a Turkey Hill B.L.T. on ciabatta with melted cheese from Collegetown Bagels and corn nu
ggets from Glenwood Pines in a cooler. These were our go-to study foods as undergraduates and the gesture was sweet on so many levels. Only I’d been too focused on making law review to appreciate it, and after a snack and a short break for sexy time, I pushed Jake to go home so I could finish my assignment. I wasn’t a heartless wench during the entirety of our five-year relationship, but I’d reached that threshold eventually. If Jake’s performance as a boyfriend was any indication, he’d make a great dad, and, although it pained me to think about it even after all these years, a loving husband too.

  Suddenly craving the sound of Lisa’s voice and nostalgic for someone who knew me before there was a JD at the end of my name, I sent her a text: “You up?” Then I tried to justify how texting someone well after midnight was acceptable. As a pastry chef for a Michelin-starred restaurant in Chicago, Lisa was accustomed to late hours. And, if not, hopefully she’d put her phone on silent so I wouldn’t wake her.

  Before I could add to my list of defenses, my phone sounded to the ringtone of Destiny’s Child’s “Independent Woman” and Lisa’s name flashed across my screen. Either she’d been awake or I was about to be on the receiving end of a tongue-lashing from my very tired and angry best friend. “Merry Christmas,” I said gleefully into the phone.

  “There are only three reasons you’d text me this late. Someone died, you’re working late, or you’re drunk. You wouldn’t be so giddy if someone kicked the bucket, so I’m guessing it’s one of the others.” She didn’t sound pissed—thank goodness.

  “That would depend on whose leg did the kicking,” I said dryly.

  Lisa chuckled. “Ah, yes. I forgot who I was talking to. So which is it?”

  “None of the above, actually. I can’t sleep and thought you might be up. And you are.”

  Lisa yawned. “Just barely. I spent hours preparing pies and was about to settle in for a few hours before I have to wake up and put them in the oven. I want to get to my dad’s early enough tomorrow to witness my nephews’ faces when they see the Christmas tree.”