Between Friends (8 page)

My breathing quickens when I finally
lock eyes with Ben. He looks fantastic. His dark hair is poking out
from under his backwards cap and his crisp clean turquoise t-shirt
clings to his muscles. His dark eyes are soft and sullen, and his
face is cleanly shaven. I gulp and look away, but I can feel him
staring at me. He sits down beside me and drapes his left arm along
the back of the sofa. I pretend to busy myself by searching for
something in the distance, but he places his thumb and index finger
on my chin and turns my face towards his.

“
Megan.” Ben whispers with
a hint of desperation in his voice.

“
What?” I say keeping my
eyes on the ground and fiddle with the fringe of my
shirt.

A lingering moment passes between us.
Ben drops his hand from my chin and runs it through his dark hair.
He hesitates, taking a deep breath, but as he tries to speak,
Stephanie shouts, “What’s going on over there?” and suspiciously
crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“
Nothing,” I say and scoot
back on the sofa. I lift my eyes to Stephanie, but I am worried she
will be able to see everything all over my face.

“
I was just telling Megan I
was sorry I missed out on last night.” Ben calmly says.

Stephanie glances back and forth
between us. She furrows her brow and un-crosses her arms, now
completely oblivious. “Well, you did miss out on a good
time.”

“
It’s always a good time
when tits come out.” Matthew says and pokes Michelle in her
coma-like state.

Ben leans back on the sofa, turns away
from me and clears his throat, “What? Really?”

“
We all went skinny
dipping.” Stephanie laughs, “It was hilarious.”

Eric gives a thumbs-up from the sofa,
and Matthew laughs and nods in agreement. Ben gives me a sideways
glance, and even though I do want to clarify I was not amongst the
skinny dipping crew, I don’t. For some reason, I have this silly
immature instinct to let Ben wallow in the idea that I bared my
birthday suit. Maybe part of me wants him to think that if everyone
else has seen me naked, it somehow minimizes the fact we slept
together.

“
The bus is here!” Jessica
shouts, waving us over to the bus and tour guide.

Ben pushes off the sofa and
briskly walks toward the bus, leaving the rest of us behind.
Jessica remains next to the tour guide as we line up single file. I
hear her pestering him about having us back on time for our dinner
reservations. I slide past her and find my way onto the wonderfully
air-conditioned bus. I notice right away, Ben is sitting in the
very back, gazing out the window. He looks up, but quickly turns
away as soon as our eyes meet. Old times would have dictated we
definitely would have sat together. We would have played the, would
you rather
game, something we always did
when we travelled on the subway or in a cab. Ben would always start
by asking a question like, “Would you rather live in a boat, or in
a motor home?” I would always laugh and wonder where he came up
with all his questions. I even accused him of carrying around a
journal and jotting down his dumb rathers, just so he could be
better prepared than I was.

Part of me really wants to go back to
those moments, and play a simple game of would you rather, but the
other part of me wants to rip off his clothes again. Everything
about our demeanor to one another has quickly changed over such a
short period of time. I can’t even look Ben in the eyes anymore!
This is the same guy I used to have intense staring contests with
so I could win the last handful of chips (corner crumbs are hands
down the best part of the bag. Who wouldn’t want to win that stare
down?). So I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness mixed with sheer
fondness, when I think of the last Saturday before we slept
together.

It was around four o’clock, and I had
just finished showing a cute two-bedroom condo in Old Town. I had
to run a few errands, and by errands I mean I stopped into Nicole
Miller. I was browsing around, enjoying my moments of solitude and
contemplating a purchase of a new little black dress when my phone
rang.

“
What’s up?” Ben’s chipper
voice beamed through the phone.

“
Just running some errands”
I lied, looked at the price tag on the dress and immediately shoved
it back on the rack.

“
Where are you?”

“
In Old Town. I just
finished showing that great two-bedroom condo about an hour
ago.”

“
Yeah, that thing will sell
itself in a day or two.” Ben said, but quickly added, “I am about
twenty minutes away. What store are you in?”

“
Nicole Miller.” I winced,
embarrassed of my priorities. I still had yet to re-stock my toilet
paper and toothpaste, but I was shopping for a dress I didn’t
need.

“
Okay, I will be right
there. Don’t leave.” Ben said and hung up the phone. I paced around
the store and eventually bought a less expensive version of the
first dress I had found.

Twenty minutes later, Ben whisked
through the doors just like he had said. I remember all the women
who worked there drooling over his presence when he waltzed in. It
wasn’t unusual for women to become immediately smitten by Ben. I
attributed it to a combination of his rugged good looks, paired
with his noble confidence, and his ability to rock a smart and sexy
grey pin-stripped suit (like the one he was wearing that day). He
scanned the perimeters of the store with his soft dark eyes. When
he spotted me, and a smile spread across his face showing off his
bright white grin.

“
What did you buy?” He
asked and tried to snatch my bag to peek inside.

“
None of your business” I
said and shoved my bag under my armpit. Ben rolled his eyes and
followed me out of the store.

When we made it out to the street, he
immediately divulged into a plan. He suggested we go out for dinner
then go back to his place to finish off our “Seinfeld” marathon for
the ninth weekend in a row. I playfully moaned, but was secretly
excited that the final season would come to an end. That way, we
could pick a new series (my pick, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, Ben’s
pick, “Dexter”) to continue our weekend tradition.

“
So do you want to go
somewhere around here to eat? Or somewhere close to my place?” Ben
asked.

“
Do we have to go out for
dinner? Can’t we just get take out? I have been out all day and I
really want to get out of these awful work clothes.” I
said.

That’s when a flickering gleam lit up
in Ben’s eyes, and with much enthusiasm, he suggested we go back to
his place and cook a delicious dinner instead.

As a light rain sprinkled in the air,
Ben and I ran to the Super Market and Wine Cellar on North Clark
Street. Ben took over, whizzing around the store, selecting
different vegetables, whole-wheat noodles, spices, and our favorite
choice of meat (chicken). He would occasionally look at me and
smile from ear to ear, delighted with his idea of becoming Chef
Benjamin Romano for the night. While Ben checked out at the till,
he asked me to go select a bottle of wine. I flashed him a few
choices, but he ended up deciding on a forty-dollar Italian red
wine called Bava Barolo. He insisted it was fantastic, and I
laughed because he was always so serious about his wine. Unlike
him, I would choose the cheapest bottle and go with
that.

We made our way back to Ben’s swanky
condo, overlooking the magnificent Grant Park and he started
pulling out the groceries from their brown paper bags, and sprawled
everything out all over his granite countertops. I began to help
him sort through them, until he pushed me away and insisted he was
going to do the cooking. He ordered me to pour us each a glass of
wine, and to plop myself down on one of the stools surrounding his
massive island. I watched Ben work his magic in the kitchen and
whisk around from the fridge to the stove, back to the island for a
sip of his wine, then back to the stove. He insisted on playing
twenty questions, another one of Ben’s little idiosyncrasies when
it came to passing the time.

Once he was done, he had made and
assembled the most beautifully prepared pasta. He mixed chicken,
zucchini, spinach, tomatoes and eggplant and topped it off with
shaved Parmesan cheese. He also made a mixed green salad with
homemade balsamic vinaigrette. I even saw him whisking it together
in the bottom of a large salad bowl, moments before his big reveal.
I clapped at his masterpiece and said I never knew he had it in him
to cook. Ben proudly smiled and said he was full of
surprises.

Over dinner, he complained about how a
new client of his demanded that Ben list their property way over
its market value. Ben refused, which ruffled his client’s feathers
a bit. But I wasn’t at all surprised by Ben’s blunt approach. It
was his confidence and expertise that had led him to be the
youngest top seller with Reitman Realty LLC for the past two
consecutive years in a row. That was something I could only dream
of, and as of last year I was thankful I even made a decent sale
ranking.

Then Ben told me about how his sister
recently lost a ton of weight (like went from Wynonna Judd size
down to an Ashley Judd zero). I was impressed over this recent
weight loss, because as long as I had known his sister, she had
struggled with her weight. Then I brought up my obsession with
Bachelor’s final three candidates, to which Ben rolled his eyes and
told me I needed to get a real love life.

A bottle of wine later, and we had
chatted about everything and anything. When I noticed it was
getting late, I changed into a pair of Ben’s sweats and yelled out
from the bathroom door for him to go and make us some popcorn
before we started our “Seinfeld” marathon. But by the second
episode on the third DVD of season nine, I couldn’t stop yawning. I
asked Ben if I could stay over, and he smiled and said, “Of course”
while I cozied up on the opposite side of the sofa. Although I can
vaguely remember him slipping a blanket over me before he wandered
off into his bedroom, I know I can clearly remember thinking how
lucky I was to have him as my friend when I slipped into a slumber
on his leather sofa.

But right now, all I can think about
is how great that night was, how great our friendship was, and how
much fun we had together doing absolutely nothing. While I debate
whether or not to sit with Ben, or take my own lone seat on the
bus, I yearn for that Saturday. I wish more than anything I had a
pause button to freeze that night in time before things suddenly
became weird and complicated between us. I think of Jerry and
Elaine from “Seinfeld” who were best friends that once slept
together. Heck! They even continued to sleep together in later
seasons and they got along. I purse my lips together and wonder why
we can’t be like Jerry and Elaine? So with “Seinfeld” as my
influence, I make my final decision and plop myself beside Ben. I
playfully nudge him and say, “Would you rather have a rewind
button, or a pause button?”

Ben locks his eyes with mine and says,
“Definitely rewind.”

Chapter 7

It was atrocious. For approximately
two hours and fifteen minutes, Ben and I created enough sexual
tension to drive me insane. The whole bus ride, every time I looked
at him I wanted to kiss him, but of course I didn’t. Every time Ben
would ask me another would you rather question, I found myself
losing focus from his voice, and daydreaming to watch his lips. I
ached so badly, even biting my lower lip without even knowing it.
When Ben saw this, he playfully pulled on it and I turned crimson
red, thinking he knew exactly what was running through my mind. For
both of us, it became a serious game of flirtation; something I was
not accustomed to. Ben would twirl my hair and make suggestive
comments, and I would respond by foolishly laughing and slapping
him on the shoulder like a lovesick schoolgirl.

Then, when I asked Ben, would he
rather have sex with Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie, and his
answer was neither; I made the mistake of looking at him. His eyes
blazed in my direction and I knew exactly what he was thinking. I
of course blushed and looked away. Ben rubbed his hands down his
thighs and let out some nervous laughter. By this point, I couldn’t
handle any more of our cat and mouse game. I couldn’t handle this
forced and suggestive bus ride that made me feel like my best
friend was slowly slipping through my fingers.

I missed the Megan and Ben who would
creep Facebook together and make fun of the people who put
inspirational quotes as their status. I missed the Megan and Ben
who would sit and eat a tub of Ben and Jerry’s Heavenly Hash ice
cream over a game of Battleship. I especially missed the Megan and
Ben who would go for the occasional jog around Millennium Park on a
Sunday, just to see all the tourists enjoy the great city of
Chicago. So finally, when Ben says something awkward about missing
out on the skinny-dipping. I had it.

“
Ben, what is this?” I
whisper in a stern hush.

Ben nervously looks around to make
sure no one else is listening.

“
We said what happened
wasn’t going to affect our friendship. But right now,
this
makes me feel like I
don’t even know you.” There. I said it.

“
Megan...” he lets out a
tense sigh.