“TMI, Steph.”
“Anyway, I’m sure I’ll get over it.” Determined to change the subject this time, I said, “Ya think I should go for Corky instead”?
“Sounds like a plan. And while you’re at it, get yourself a drink already! It’s New Year’s Eve, for Christ’s sake!”
On my way back to the family room, I grabbed a bottle of heffeweizen from the fridge and poured it in a pilsner glass with a slice of lemon. As I headed towards the stairs, I ran into Andy and Rachel coming out of one of the guest rooms. Pretending to have no idea they had been fighting, I called out cheerfully, “Hey, guys! Happy New Year!”
Rachel, smiling brightly, greeted me with a hug and kiss and said, “Hey, Stephanie. You look great! Are those jeans Miss Sixties? I wish I could fit into those!”
“Thanks, Rachel. You look great, too! Good to see you, Andy!” I said as I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.
“Good to see you, too,” Andy said.
Before he could say anything else, Rachel placed her head on his shoulder, looked up at him from under her eyelashes and said, “Hon, can you pour me a glass of wine, please? Stephanie and I will see you downstairs.”
Flashing me a defeated smile, Andy said, “Sure thing. You need anything, Steph?”
I held up my full glass of beer. “No thanks. I’m good.” Then I followed Rachel down the stairs. So far the party was pretty weak. Paul and Hope were sitting in the corner of one couch staring intently at a laptop and Hille was on the other couch watching the television. Michael Jackson was playing in the background.
“Nice music, guys,” I said.
Paul looked up at me from the computer. “What? You don’t like “Beat It?” That’s not what I heard. Or what I remember,” he said with a wink and then added, “What about you, Hille?” Hope jabbed him in the arm. I ignored him and Hille, expressionless, shook his head and continued to stare at the television. I wasn’t drunk enough to act normal around Hille so I went back upstairs.
Eric had the video camera out and was taping Jess and Corky dancing to “Bust a Move” in the living room. “Oh, my Lord. Did I jump into a time warp or something? “Thriller” downstairs, cheesy 90s rap upstairs?”
Corky approached me with his awkward dance moves and chanted, “She’s dressed in yellow, she says ‘Hello, come sit next to me, you fine fellow” and eventually took my hand and dragged me onto the ‘dance floor’ to join him. I pushed away my initial self-consciousness as well as thoughts of Hille and danced along with Corky and Jess until I braved a solo. Swinging my hips in time to the music, I crooned, “She thinks you’re kinda cute so she winks back And now you’re feelin’ really fine cus the girl is stacked,” turned around and saw Hille staring at me with a close-mouthed grin. I immediately stopped dancing, feeling my face turn bright red.
“Please don’t stop on my account,” he teased. “I’m just enjoying the show.”
Mortified, I said, “Show’s over” and walked passed him into the kitchen. As I grabbed another beer, I felt his presence behind me. I turned around to face him and leaned against the refrigerator. Fake it till you make it. We’re friends, nothing else.
“The party is really lame downstairs,” he said. “Paul is showing Hope his Myspace page and Rachel is showing Andy her favorite jewelry in Jess’s Tiffany’s catalog. I came upstairs thinking it had to be an improvement.” Then he started laughing and said, “So glad I did.”
“Whatever I can do to provide some entertainment, Craig. You’re up next,” I joked.
“Not gonna happen, Steph—not without a lot more of this, at least,” he said, holding up his drink.
Motioning for him to follow me downstairs where everyone else had finally gathered in the family room, I said, “Let’s see what we can do about that.”
For the next couple of hours, we sat around drinking and basically ripping each other apart. (Our motto: If we don’t make fun of you, we obviously don’t know you.) At 11:59 and 49 seconds, with a glass of champagne in one hand and a shot of tequila in the other, we chanted in unison: “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1—Happy New Year!”
I averted my eyes from the kissing couples and looked over at Hille and Corky. Raising my glass of champagne, I said, “Happy New Year, guys!” Corky wrapped me into a bear hug and planted a wet one on my lips. After he released me, Hille and I locked eyes and awkwardly moved in for a hug.
My face in his chest, I said, “Happy New Year, Craig!”
“Happy New Year, kid,” he said before quickly detaching himself from our embrace.
By then, the couples had separated and after each person hugged and said Happy New Year to everyone else, Eric brought out the karaoke machine.
Paul performed the opening act—‘Tangled Up In Blue.’ Paul, Eric, Corky and Jess were always the most eager, while Hope, Andy and I usually waited until the tequila had worked its magic. Hille’s participation was usually limited to insulting Paul’s performance.
After almost everyone had a turn, Eric looked at me and said, “You’re up next. What are you singing?”
Suddenly I felt completely nauseated and I looked over at Hille, who was laughing at Corky’s rendition of “Gold Digger.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and said, “I’m not ready yet.”
From across the room, Paul called out, “You’re not wimping out are you, Cohen?” and suddenly all eyes were on me.
I had to do this. Hille had seen me in the throes of passion. Karaoke was trivial in comparison. “Not wimping out. Just deciding on a song. Think of something, Stephanie. “Okay, ‘Down Under.’” It was easy, had no high notes and needn’t be accompanied by dancing.
I felt as if I were wearing 100-pound ankle weights but somehow made it off the couch to the center of the room where Eric handed me the microphone. I couldn’t remember the first words ‘Traveling in a fried-out combie’ leaving my mouth but by the time I got to ‘She just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich’ (and maybe it was because Paul kept lifting his shirt and flashing me his pot belly), I was fine. In fact, when the song was over, I swear Hille looked upon me with admiration. Unless, of course, I was simply beer goggling on myself.
Although no one officially announced it was ‘bed time,’ as the sun began to peek through the shades, we all got ready for bed. Paul and Hope and Rachel and Andy called dibs on the two guest bedrooms, while Jess brought out pillows and blankets for Hille, Corky and me, who were stuck sleeping in the family room. Hille offered to sleep on the floor so Corky and I each got a couch.
I was beat and couldn’t wait to go to sleep. Corky already appeared to be out cold when I got out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed and Hille was snoring—loudly. I didn’t think the snoring would keep me awake but I was wrong. At first I was calm and just assumed that Hille would stop snoring eventually. I mean, who snored non-stop?
Apparently, Hille did and I counted how many hours I had until the others would wake up if I fell asleep at that precise moment. ‘Shut up,’ I screamed inwardly. I turned from my side to my stomach and then back to my side. Then I covered my head with my pillow and kicked my feet in annoyance. “Oh, God. Shut up! Please,” I cried, this time out loud.
Hille stirred in his sleep, abruptly sat up and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“You’re snoring,” I answered in frustration.
“Sorry, Steph.”
“You sound like a cat trapped in a vacuum cleaner.”
“And what exactly does that sound like?”
“Fucking annoying!”
Hille laughed and said, “You didn’t complain about my snoring in New York.”
Too tired to censor myself, I said, “Well, you had just given me an orgasm. You sort of had a get out of jail free card.”
“I can give you an orgasm now if you want.”
Whoa. “Come again?”
Totally deadpan, Hille responded, “That’s the idea.”
My heart began to beat at the pace of an Olympic runner. “Uh, will the re
al Craig Hille please stand up?”
“Why do you say that?” Hille asked lightly.
“So not like you.”
“Why? Because I don’t do karaoke, I have no sense of adventure?”
“No, just not what I expected you to say. I mean, first you needed Paul’s permission and now—Just not what I expected. That’s all.”
Hille shrugged and said, “I don’t know. We’ve done it before—it’s not like we’d be making history. And the sex was...” Hille stopped speaking before completing the sentence.
“The sex was what, Craig?”
“Really good.”
Grinning despite myself and glad the room was too dark for Hille to see me, I said, “It was, wasn’t it?”
Like a middle school bully trying to get his smaller friend to smoke a joint, Hille said, “So, what do you say? I promise you’ll sleep better afterwards.” All the kids are doing it.
“That’s as good a reason as any, but what do we do about Corky?” I asked. Even as the words escaped my mouth, I couldn’t believe I was saying them.
“Leave him here. Let’s go in the bathroom.”
Oh, God. What am I doing? “Do you have something?”
“I’ve got it covered, Steph,” he said and with that, I followed him to the half bath.
As soon as he kissed me, I felt a flash of heat from the top of my head all the way down my body and any reluctance I had to be with him again disappeared just as quickly. Miraculously, I was no longer tired either. I was not a member of the mile high club and certainly wasn’t experienced having sex in bathrooms. It was dark and quite uncomfortable at first as we tried to make the most of the cramped space but it felt so good. Even in those moments, I was aware that I had never before allowed a physical need to take over the voice in my head telling me I was probably headed down the wrong path. Before Hille, I had never even had sex outside of some sort of relationship, but I just wanted to cling to him like Saran Wrap and stay like that in perpetuity. I kept repeating, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” The voice in my head tried to stop me from saying it out loud, but I couldn’t help myself.
After we finished, I held onto him tight and when I felt him pull away, I said, “Not yet,” my voice so breathy that I almost didn’t recognize it.
Hille said, “Okay.”
We stayed like that, not speaking and just breathing heavily until finally, I whispered, “I’ve never had a fuck buddy before, Craig.”
Hille whispered back, “We’re not fuck buddies, Steph.”
Although I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to know, I asked, “What are we, Craig?”
After a brief hesitation, as if pondering the answer, Hille pulled away and looked at me. Then he looked down while rubbing his thumb gently along his clean-shaven chin. Looking at me again, he smiled and said, “I got it. Friends with benefits!”
I didn’t note a trace of disrespect in his voice or malintent in his eyes and, although I wanted to tell him that friends with benefits wasn’t good enough for me, I was not ready to hear that my only choices were ‘friends with benefits’ or just ‘friends.’ I also felt like a hypocrite telling him I wasn’t ‘that kind of girl’ while naked in a bathroom after having sex with him, so instead, I said, “I never had one of those either.” Then we left the bathroom, went back to our respective make-shift beds and I wondered what the hell I was doing until I fell asleep.
Fourteen
The next morning I woke up to the sound of clanking pots and muddled voices coming from upstairs. I looked around, saw I was alone in the room and figured I was the last one up. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair and tried not to think about what I had done in that room only a few hours prior. Then I joined the others upstairs. Everyone was either standing in the kitchen or sitting in the living room drinking coffee, which I needed bad.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Eric called from the top of the stairs as I made my way up. “I thought you might have died.”
“And you were so concerned you just left me there, huh?” I spotted Hille in the kitchen behind him, grinning at me when we made eye contact. I smiled at him a bit self-consciously and he asked if I needed a cup of coffee. “Yes! Desperately,” I answered.
Holding the coffee pot in his hands, he asked, “How do you take it?”
“Lots of half and half and two Equals. Thanks, Craig.” I sat down at the kitchen table with Hope and Paul and when Hille handed me my coffee, I said, “Thanks.” He just winked in response and went into the living room.
“How’d you sleep, Cohen?” Paul asked.
“Fine, why?” I asked.
“Just making conversation. Hung over?”
“A little,” I lied. Sleeping with Hille had sobered me up pretty quickly and I wasn’t even drunk by the time I went to sleep.
Later, we were all in the living room watching The Rose Bowl. Everyone was psyched that the Nittany Lions were beating the Trojans, except Paul.
“Any team named after a condom is the team for me,” he said.
Looking up from Eric and Jess’s wedding album (which I had already viewed at least 20 times), I said, “Really? Then why did you always try to guilt me into having sex without using one back in college?”
“Paul!” Hope shouted. “Were you trying to knock up a college freshman?”
“Nah. I had just heard it felt better without one and, at the time, I hadn’t tried it before. Chillax, Hope. I never knocked Stephanie up.”
They continued to mock-argue while I tried to figure out what Hille was thinking. He was standing by the staircase typing on his Blackberry. I wondered who would email him on New Year’s Day. I followed him with my eyes until he sat back down on the couch and took another sip of coffee. He caught me, smiled and stood up again. This time, he went to the bathroom and, with the door half opened, washed his hands. Did it even register that we’d had sex in there?
Cutting into my meditation of the night’s events, I heard someone say, “Earth to Stephanie.”
I looked up and saw Eric standing over me with a train schedule. Waving it at me, he asked, “What time do you need to be back?”
I shrugged and answered, “I don’t know. Not too late. I hate getting home really late when I have work the next day.”
“There’s a four thirty that gets you into Union at six twenty-five. Does that work?”
“Yeah, that sounds perfect. Do you mind if I shower first? I feel dirty.” I felt my face flush as I said that, although I knew no one except Hille would think anything of it. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
Getting up from the couch where she was sitting, Jess said, “Come with me. I’ll get you some towels.”
“I know where the towels are, Jess. Sit down. I’m okay.”
Falling back down on the couch, Jess said, “Good! I’m too tired to walk upstairs!”
During my shower, I decided I didn’t regret having sex with Hille again. Sure, Hille had made it clear he wasn’t looking for a relationship with me, but he liked me and I liked him. We were attracted to each other and shared explosive sexual chemistry. Had Hille been some stranger I picked up at a bar, I’d feel regret. But Hille was my friend—a friend with benefits. There was nothing to regret.
I toweled off, combed my long, wet hair into a ponytail and threw on the t-shirt and sweatpants I had brought for the train ride home. I didn’t bother with makeup, figuring it was unlikely I’d meet anyone interesting on the train. My mother would probably have berated that decision but I lacked the motivation to care. When I got downstairs, everyone was still sitting where I’d left them.
Jess, still staring straight ahead at the television as if in a trance said, “Hille said he’d drive you to the train station. I’d do it but I’m beat and he’s gotta get going anyway. You don’t mind, do you?”
I shook my head and said, “Don’t mind.” Then I forced myself to look at Hille, who I could see out of the corner of my eye was looking at me, and asked, “You sure you don’t
mind?”
“It’s no trouble,” Hille said. “But, we should get going soon. You just about ready?”
“Yep.” Gesturing to the clothes from the night before in my hands, I said, “Just gotta throw this stuff in my bag.”
We hugged and kissed everyone goodbye and then I walked with Hille to his car, a dark blue Nissan Altima parked across the street. After he put our bags in the trunk, he opened up the passenger side of the car to let me in. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, got in and started the car.
Playing with his GPS, Hille said, “Now let’s see if we can figure out how to get to the train station.”
“Thanks again for driving me, Craig.”
Just Friends With Benefits Page 9
