Ouch. My temples are pounding. With a groan, I roll to my stomach, reaching blinding for a pillow to pull over my head. Or to use to smother me. I haven't decided. I drank way too much last night. I push the pillow against my skull to prevent my brain from exploding. This vodka hangover is going to suck. The sound of my beeping alarm clock isn't helping either. I whack a snooze button and sit up on my bed. I glance at the clock, seeing neon lights flashing five-thirty in the morning.
Great. I feel like shit, and I have to be at the airport in less than two hours.
Annoyed, I flop onto my back and kick off my blankets.
What the hell? I'm naked. I never sleep naked.
I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand, hazily remembering the events of last night.
Please don't let Ben be here. Please, Please, Please.
I grab my blankets, wrapping myself in a cocoon of cotton. Slowly, I turn my head to see Ben lying on my bed, also naked. His muscular back stretches down from my pillow straight into the middle of my mattress. I stand over my bed, frozen and unable to move. My stomach twists as I watch him sleeping. His arm draped over the side of my bed, his eyes closed, his hair ruffled.
I exhale and force my eyes shut, trying to shake away my thoughts - this was a big mistake. I rarely make such irrational decisions, and I would never want to feel what I am right now: regret.
I want to rewind time. I want to return to last night and change my mind about flipping that coin. But not because the sex wasn't amazing but because this could change everything between us.
My whole life, I've prided myself on not being "that girl" who had meaningless sex or one-night stands. I've restricted sex to serious boyfriends only. I am proud to say I've only slept with three men (all serious boyfriends) and nothing in between. Unlike Stephanie and Michelle, who went through more men than underwear, I never once had a random drunken hookup. And even though it was petty, I felt like I had accomplished something they hadn't.
When my last boyfriend, Marco, dumped me, Michelle suggested that I let loose and experience the thrill of sleeping with a stranger to get over him. I laughed and told her that because I didn't believe in love, I did believe in self-respect. I thanked her for her unwanted insight into my love life and said that didn't excite me. Michelle asked, "When will you ever live a little?" I replied that I did live a little, just not with weird random men sweating all over my body.
I know Ben is not a stranger, but he may as well be as I stare at him, snuggled up against my pillow.
I sheepishly glance at my reflection in the mirrored closet doors across my bed. We had no business being so irresponsible about our friendship. We had even less business doing something so reckless and stupid the day before our best friend's wedding. But I smugly decide, even though I am disgusted with my behaviour, after a drunken night of meaningless sex, I am having a perfect hair day. I kick myself from the inside and note that even though this mistake's aftermath has left me feeling slightly flushed and looking better than usual, it will never happen again.
Ben rolls over and stretches his chiseled arms across my pillow. I hold my breath and watch his eyes flutter open. He looks far, too sleep-rumpled and sexy for my current state of mind. When our eyes meet, he blushes and pulls a sheet up to his chin.
"Hey. Good morning," he says, voice shaky. "Sleep well?"
I swallow hard and resist the urge to touch his face. I walk from one side of my bedroom to the other, dragging my sheets behind me. I stop in front of my doorway and say coldly, "I think you should go."
"What?" he asks, confused.
"Yeah, Ben."
He tosses the sheet from his body, but this time with no shame. I force my eyes shut, completely embarrassed and now fully aware of why I am in so much pain down there. I can hear him slide on his pants and buckle his belt, so I peek through one eye, grateful he is sliding on his black t-shirt over his bare chest.
He sees the clock on my nightstand and states the obvious. "Shit, it's early, huh? We have to catch a plane in a few hours, right?"
"Listen," I say, blinking away and trying to make some order of the chaos in my head. "That coin toss was a mistake. This can't happen again."
Ben sighs long and deep before mumbling, "Fine by me."
"Please don't tell anyone about this," I say, stopping at his expression.
His eyes are wide, his mouth pursed, and his gaze moves slowly down my body. "You didn't seem to have a problem with any of this last night," he says. "I didn't realize you were so disappointed."
"Jesus, Ben. It's not that." I look down and, if possible, become even more mortified than before. "I don't want things between us to change. Please, pretend it never happened."
He blinks. "You're the one with the big mouth, not me."
"I don't think so."
"Yeah. I think so." Ben sits down on my bed, pulling on his socks. "You and Jessica share everything. You told me you have to because it's a golden rule of sisterhood or some garbage like that."
There is a long, heavy silence between us. I look down at the ground and feel myself begin to blush. I both hate and love how Ben can remember everything I tell him. But even though Jessica and I share everything, what happened between Ben and me is an absolute exception.
"Do me a favour," he says, glancing over at me. "When we are in Costa Rica, remind me not to pound back the rum. I wouldn't want to be flipping coins with just anybody."
I frown. "Very funny."
Ben scratches the back of his neck, looking down at me through his dark lashes. We both exhale a long, measured breath and then I realize how awkward this has gotten. I look up to see him watching me. His eyes search every inch of my face.
"So, I guess I'll see you at the airport," he says.
He walks over to the doorway and stops. He is standing inches away from me, so close I can count each of his eyelashes, close enough for me to make out the tiny freckles along the bridge of his nose. He runs a hand through his hair and glances down at me. His mouth parts slightly, and he looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn't.
"Nothing has changed between us, right?" I ask.
He tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes before answering. "Of course not." He places his hand on the doorknob and says, "Don't worry, Megs. If forgetting this ever happened is what you want, mums the word." He runs a thumb and index finger across his lips and pretends to zip them shut before he walks out of my bedroom, into the living room and out the front door.
Ten minutes later, I brewed a pot of coffee and stepped into the shower. I wish the steamy details from our so-called mistake would stop sneaking up on me, like when both of us laughed and kissed our way into my apartment, or Ben thrust me up against the kitchen wall to meet his soft lips with mine, or the touch of Ben's hands on my body. That mouth. The way he sucked on my skin, kissing me as if he had years of pent-up need, and it was finally unleashed. Last night I wanted him to fuck me, probably more than I ever wanted anything. I was ready to explode. And when our clothes started to come off, there was no way in hell I was backing down. Being with Ben that way felt oddly fitting, even though it also felt wrong. I know it can't happen again for the sake of our friendship, but I'm just feeling really, really frustrated.
I scrub myself down with a loofa, hoping that the more water that washes over me will somehow rinse away those memories forever. But without any luck, by the time I dry off and walk back into my bedroom, I can't stop my mind from replaying memories of last night.
One look at my mangled bedsheets makes me flush and ache inside. I want to shake away the part of me that liked what happened, mainly because it should've felt weird and wrong. But it didn't.
I couldn't possibly have feelings for Ben. He is my best friend.
I was brushing my wet and tangled hair when a memory flashed. In our last year of college, on New Year's Eve, Stephanie and Michelle convinced Jessica to ditch Michael for a girls-only New Year's. Because of this, I was forced to wear high heels, eye shadow, and an uncomfortably short mini-skirt. I was totally out of my element. I would have preferred to stay in and give each other manicures and pedicures while watching Ryan Seacrest's Countdown with a big bowl of popcorn. I remember it was also abnormally cold outside, and I had just started casually seeing Marco. Unlike Stephanie and Michelle, I had no intentions of "picking up," as Stephanie so casually stated as she smeared on a bright red lipstick.
When we made it to a club called The Cove, Michelle was the first to stumble out of a cab drunkenly. She landed face-first on the concrete. I stepped into mother-hen mode and suggested we return her to our apartment. Stephanie, in her drunken stupor, told me to relax. She bent down to help Michelle to her feet but unknowingly flashed a row of sorority boys her butt cheeks. Jessica was so preoccupied with her cell phone that she couldn't have cared less about what was happening with Michelle. When I tried to tell her Michelle had too much to drink and should return to the apartment, Jessica slapped Michelle playfully across the face to wake her up a little.
"Just get her some water," Jessica said. "Come on. It's New Year's Eve, Megan. It's time to party."
Inside the club, music boomed and vibrated against the walls, swallowing any voice that tried to escape my lips. Stephanie dragged Michelle onto the dance floor. Jessica and I went to the bar to get a drink. While I waited for the bartender to make our drinks, Jessica stood off to the side, texting like crazy on her cell phone.
When I looked up, Michael appeared with Ben and our two other friends, Matthew and Eric.
Of course. Jessica had been texting Michael the entire time. Meeting him at the club was her master plan all along. And while part of me was annoyed by her sneaky antics, the other part was quite pleased to see them, especially Ben.
Jessica and Michael disappeared as the night progressed, leaving me babysitting a drunk Stephanie and Michelle. Matthew, Eric, and Ben spent their night sitting up at the bar, but every so often, I'd feel Ben's eyes on me.
The countdown wasn't the same without a warm blanket, popcorn, and Ryan Seacrest, but when the DJ shouted down the remaining seconds to midnight, I was thankful for everything in my life, including my friends.
With an explosion of confetti all over the club, people hugged and kissed all around me. Matthew and Michelle, who were on again and off again, decided to make out on the dance floor. Eric and Stephanie hugged each other, switching to share a hug with Ben and me. When no one was looking, Ben leaned in closely and whispered in my ear, "You look great tonight."
His mouth lingered against my cheek for a beat, making me feel dizzy. I pulled away, glancing upward to meet his gaze. He smiled down at me with a weird gleam in his eye. I smiled back and raised my glass to cheer him on.
Eric broke the moment when he suggested we leave the club and continue the party at his place. Stephanie and Michelle agreed to go, but I decided to go to bed. Ben begged me not to go, but I was tired and uncomfortable in heels, and as far as I was concerned, when the clock struck midnight, New Year's was over.
Ben hailed two cabs. I slid into the first cab alone. But as I told the cab driver my address, Ben grabbed the door and stuck his head in the cab.
"Want me to come with you?" he asked.
"I thought you were going to Eric's," I said, confused.
Ben stood in place and hovered above me, his lips slightly parted. I waited for him to say something more, but he didn't. I shifted in the backseat, feeling the cool winter breeze gush into the cab and nip at my bare legs. I pulled down on my uncomfortably short skirt and asked, "Could you close the door, please?"
He hesitated for a moment, letting out a defeated sigh. Then he leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and mumbled, "Happy New Year's Megs."
Without another word, he slammed the cab door shut and stepped back onto the sidewalk.
I could still feel the echo of his final goodbye that night, but I didn't trust my memory. He couldn't have been that disappointed I turned down his offer to return to my apartment. Why had I never thought much of what happened that night until now?
When I replay the events of that night in my mind, I see it in a new light. Could Ben have tried to see if there was more than friendship between us? I walked into my bedroom and laughed, realizing how ridiculous it sounded. Ben would never like me like that. Last night was just sex. Nothing more. Ben knows I am a plain-Jane nerd who enjoys science fiction movies and doing crossword puzzles in the Sunday paper.
When I sit down on my bed, my phone starts to ring. I click on the call.
"What are you doing?" Jessica's voice catches me off guard.
Shit. I forgot she was picking me up.
"I just got out of the shower," I say, pulling a t-shirt over my head. "I'm almost ready. Heading to the door."
I glance at the clock and notice we have less than twenty minutes to get to the airport and catch our flight.
"I am at your door," Jessica says. "Open up."
I do my best to make my bed and inhale a whiff of Ben's cologne as I flip up my sheets. I move quickly from my bedroom into the living room and open my front door to let Jessica enter the dark interior.
She is perfectly groomed. Full makeup and her long blonde hair loosely curled at her shoulders. Oversized sunglasses hide her eyes, and a gigantic designer travel bag dangles from her forearm. She steps into my entryway and examines my living room with a curious look. For a moment, I think she knows about the coin toss and is about to call out Ben and me on our big secret. She even runs her hand along the back of my sofa, on the exact spot where Ben tugged off my pants.
"Shouldn't we get going? We don't want to be late," I nervously chuckle.
Jessica doesn't respond. She walks into my bedroom, and I follow, tossing my wet hair into a messy bun.
She sits on the edge of my bed, sighs, and drops her head between her hands.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, sitting down next to her.
She shakes her head and looks at me, unshed tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "I think I hate my wedding dress. I tried it last night, and it was too tight."
Jessica is known to be overdramatic. I know her dress fits her perfectly. I spent countless hours shopping for wedding gowns with her and her mother. It was ninety-four dresses later on Saturday, May 17, at one fifteen in the afternoon, at the tenth bridal shop of the day, when Jessica was more than obsessed with her gorgeous ten thousand dollar gown when she said, "Say Yes to the Dress." She is also a size zero, making it nearly impossible to look bad in anything she puts on.
"Well?" Jessica asks, pressuring me into a maid-of-honour mode.
"You could call off the whole wedding," I suggest, giving her a playful nudge.
She narrows her eyes at me. "This is a big deal, Megan. This isn't supposed to be happening right now. I shouldn't hate my dress minutes before I'm about to get on the plane. I need more time." She falls back onto my bed.
"Jess, please," I shake my head and pull her by the arm to face me. "You are gorgeous and look amazing in anything you put on."
Wincing, she admits, "True."
"You could walk down the aisle in a paper bag, and Michael would still marry you."
She considers this, tapping a finger on her lips. "You're right. I'm just feeling overwhelmed. I want everything to be perfect. I'm so glad I have you to keep me sane." She hugs me and glances over my shoulder. I can feel her focusing on something across the room. "Where's the wedding checklist?"
Shit. I have no idea where I put the checklist. I haven't seen it since I left to meet Ben. I fumble my words; until Jessica catches on that, I don't know where it is. She starts to panic and searches my bedroom for the checklist. I, too, begin searching until I catch a glimpse of it crumpled up on top of my dresser. When I reach for it, I hear Jessica's voice perk up: "Whose baseball cap is this?"
Oh shit.
I turn and face Jessica with a forced smile. Desperate to distract her, I wave the checklist, but she is not easily diverted. She smirks, holding out Ben's baseball cap on her index finger. "Megan, did you have a boy in your bedroom?" she laughs.
I walk in her direction, take the cap from her possession and trade her for the checklist.
"Well?" she laughs with a devilish grin, "What boy took his baseball cap off in your bedroom?"
"It belongs to no one," I tell her, stuffing Ben's hat into a drawer on my dresser.
She gasps. "It belongs to Marco, doesn't it?"
She did not like Marco, mostly because he was an outspoken know-it-all who challenged her, but also because she suspected he would always put his needs above mine, and ultimately, she was right.
I looked down at the carpet, trying not to crack under the pressure of her unwavering attention. "You caught me," I finally said, leaving my bedroom with my luggage. Jessica followed, not letting me get away that easily.
"You know I am trying to set you up with my cousin Steven, right?" Her tone is even, her face frustrated, but the speed of her question tells me she is worked up about me not following through with this setup. I forgot about Jessica's grand plan to introduce me to her recently divorced, thirty-year-old cousin, Dr. Steven. "How many times have I told you?" she asks. "He's excited to meet you in Costa Rica. If I introduce you, I can't have you hooking up with Marco again."
"I'm not sleeping with Marco," I assure her.
"Then why is his baseball cap in your bedroom?" she asks.
Okay, Megan. It's time to make up a believable lie to appease her.
"He came over to talk. That's all." My heart races, and I hope I have satisfied her unnecessary inquisition.
"Talk, huh?"
"Yes. Talk. It's over between us. I swear."
"Okay. Good. Because Steven is a real catch. He's handsome and smart and a freakin doctor. He's got his shit together. Do not ruin this." She says, giving me the stink eye. "Especially not for a douchebag like Marco."
"Okay. Relax. You do not have to worry," I tell her. "Can we go, please? I don't want to miss our flight."
She studies me for a brief and fleeting moment before pulling open the front door. "Alright, but you better not be lying to me."
Walking out the front door, I silently curse Ben for leaving his baseball cap behind.