I love tropical places. The intoxicating scent of coconut and salt water mixed is so refreshing. Rolling hills and luscious greenery are the perfect backdrop to the immaculate villas spread throughout the resort. I pinch myself just to be sure this paradise is my current reality.
After checking in, we board a shuttle to our villas. Winding down cobblestone roads, our driver takes us on a scenic tour of the impressive grounds. I close my eyes for a beat, relaxing for the first time in months, letting my hair blow in the warm wind, and my ears listen to exotic birds chirping in the distance. I see iguanas crawling through grass and monkeys swinging from trees when I open my eyes. I feel immersed in my private jungle.
The shuttle stopped, and our driver walked around the back end to remove luggage from the trunk. He points to a two-story villa overlooking a ravine filled with stork-like birds.
"This one is for you ladies," he says in broken English.
"Okay, girls, get out," Jessica says. "Welcome to your villa."
I followed our driver up the cobblestone pathway, with Stephanie and Michelle following behind. He swiped a key card and opened the door.
Stephanie and Michelle scurry inside to ooh and awe over the extravagant amenities. I stay outside on the pathway, thank our driver, and tip him well. I glance back towards the shuttle and wave to everyone still on board, watching them sip on welcome drinks.
No one pays me any attention other than Ben. He gives me a wink, flashing a cocky grin as the driver shifts the shuttle into drive and moves forward down the road.
It takes me several long seconds to inhale after he does this. I hate the prickling sensation along my arms and neck more than almost anything.
"Megan, come on in. You have to see this place," Michelle shouts from inside. "The mini-fridge is stocked with everything."
When I walked inside, Michelle and Stephanie wasted no time making themselves at home. They had helped themselves to beer from the mini-fridge and opened a bag of complimentary chocolate-covered almonds.
"Want a beer?" Michelle asks, holding out a beer can in my direction.
I shake my head. "No, thanks. I'm going to unpack first."
Stephanie scoffs. Michelle and I noticed her reaction to my choice to decline a drink.
"What?" I ask.
"Just have a beer," Stephanie says, refusing to catch my eye. "You can be such a party pooper sometimes."
Did I mention Stephanie isn't my favourite person?
Michelle hands me a beer and kisses my cheek. "Meg is not a party pooper. She's a responsible maid of honour."
To spite Stephanie, I open the beer can and take a long, satisfying sip.
"That's the spirit," Michelle says, raising her beer can. "Cheers, ladies."
We clinked our cans together, and I could tell by the forced smile on Stephanie's face that sharing a villa with her for an entire week would test my sanity.
"Okay," Michelle says, opening her luggage and pulling out a makeup bag. "Megan, you unpack whatever you want to, and Stephanie and I will start getting ready for dinner. Cool?"
I nod, watching them prop themselves in front of a full-length mirror and dig through Michelle's makeup bag. We have a dinner reservation in two hours. Unlike Stephanie and Michelle, I only need a little time to get ready. I'm not a fancy person. Of course, I like to wear nice clothes and apply makeup, but I only need up to twenty minutes to pull myself together.
As I started unpacking, I saw Stephanie enter her luggage and pull out a coral dress. She holds it up to her chest. "Well, girls. What do you think? Should I wear this dress tonight? Or should I wear something a little riskier?"
Michelle contemplates this ask and taps her index finger over her lips. "I think you should wear something a little riskier. You are single and ready to mingle. What do you think, Megan?"
Because I realized it would not be impolite to tell them I couldn't care less about what Stephanie wore, I gave my best girly answer: "Go riskier. You could pull off anything."
"You're right, Megan," Stephanie gloats. "I totally can. And I totally will." She pulls out a tiny black bodycon dress with slits on the arms and smiles. "This should do the trick."
"Who are you trying to impress?" Michelle giggles, and they share a secret little smile.
"Oh, please," Stephanie waves her off. "This week is about me, not anyone else."
I turn away from them and hang our bridesmaid dresses in a nearby closet. The phone in our villa rings from a nearby table, so I reach over and answer the call.
"Remember, dinner reservations are at seven o'clock sharp," Jessica's voice says on the other end of the line.
"I know," I tell her. "Stephanie and Michelle are already pre-drinking, deciding what to wear, and putting on makeup."
"Ugh," she groans.
"What?"
"Please do not let Stephanie and Michelle get piss-ass drunk before dinner. My entire family will be there," she says, voice desperate. "I need you to promise me."
I glance over my shoulder and wince when I see Stephanie shotgun a beer and Michelle cheer her on. "You know Stephanie will never listen to me. I can't promise anything."
"Please, Megan," she whispers. "You know Michael's parents are uptight. You are my maid of honour. You must make sure my other bridesmaids don't ruin things."
"Fine," I manage, struggling to keep my nerves from getting the better of me. Stephanie will not take kindly to me telling her what to do. I silently pray there is no more beer in the mini-fridge.
"Thank you," Jessica exhales. "Also, don't forget to sex yourself up a little. Steven will be at dinner. He's looking forward to meeting you."
I take a deep breath. This was the moment I could tell her I slept with Ben. I'm really struggling with a humble jumble of emotions, and setting me up with your cousin Steven probably isn't a good idea. My head is a mess. I have no idea what these foreign feelings for Ben mean, but I need some time to sort those feelings out.
But I'm not okay with saying that. I'm worried that if I admit anything out loud, it would mean something, which would mean that what happened between Ben and I meant something- and it didn't mean anything. It was a flip of the coin, meaningless sex. For all I know, Steven could be this great, fantastic, perfect guy for me. Ben is my best friend- nothing more and nothing less. I need to remember that.
Jessica and I say our goodbyes, and when I hang up, I feel an uneasy churn in my stomach. I should have told Jessica about Ben, but I also didn't want to distract Jessica during the week of her wedding. Sleeping with Ben is a huge secret.
And one I don't know she'd be understanding about.
Ben doesn't get serious with girls. He is a serial dater. He's never been in a long-term and committed relationship, not once in all the years I've known him. He gets bored quickly. And he admits no one can hold his attention long enough for him to see a future. I've witnessed so many women come and go over the years that even I have started to lose count.
The problem with telling Jessica I slept with Ben - regardless of Steven- is that she would probably think I was crazy for allowing myself to become another one of Ben's conquests. I already know she can't stand his inability to settle down. He's been Michael's best friend since they were kids. And she continually complains about how she thinks his bachelor lifestyle is a bad influence on Michael. She knows Ben takes pride in hooking up with random women, partying and going to strip clubs. She also knows his longest relationship was three months old, and he's never once bought a girl flowers.
Jessica also knows I don't do random hookups- I do relationships. I've never had a one-night stand and never thought Ben would be my first. I regret blurring the lines of our friendship.
I want to punch myself in the face. I am an idiot. I need to stop having these confusing feelings toward Ben and focus my energy on someone like Steven: a mature, successful, relationship-ready doctor looking for more than just a bang buddy.
I hate how the truth hurts. I need to lock myself in the bathroom and have a serious conversation with my reflection.
The last time I did this was when I lost my virginity. My high school boyfriend Donny and I were in his bedroom making out when he slipped his hand up my shirt. My elbow clamped down on his arm and stopped him inches away from my nipple. I knew this would be the crossover from first base to home plate. Something about that made me want to think things through before I waved him home. I sat up and told Donny I needed to use the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror, just like I am now, and asked myself a few key questions.
Did I think I loved Donny? That answer was simple. Yes, I did.
Did Donny love me? That answer was a tad more complicated. Even though he had never said anything close to the word love, we had been dating for over a year, so I decided he must, to some degree, have love-ish feelings for me.
Finally, if I were to reflect on this decision ten years from now, would I have thought I made the right choice? Unfortunately, that was the question I would never know the answer. I hummed and hawed over this debate in front of the mirror and perked up my tiny boobs, and fixed my flat hair. Minutes later, I made my final decision to lose my virginity on a twin mattress beside an open bag of Doritos while an episode of The Simpson's played on his iPad.
But right now, my questions are a tad more complicated than they were over losing my V-card. My first question is: What are my honest feelings about Ben? But not even as I stare into the mirror to admire my freshly waxed eyebrows can I find the answer. Before last night, I would have said we were best friends and nothing more. But why can't I shake the fact that despite how weird and strange it was to be with Ben that way, I can't get him out of my mind?
Jessica once told me that drunken words are sober thoughts. Could that be the same for drunk actions? Could they be sober wants? If that's the case, I'm in quite the pickle because I know exactly what my drunk self wanted that night – Ben inside me. This realization knocks all the air from my lungs. I press my hands onto the countertop and search for deep inner reflection to help me sort through my emotions, but nothing happens. Instead, I feel myself break out into a sweat and a full-body tremble.
I rub my hands over my face to ease the tension and ask myself a scarier question: Could Ben like me as more than a friend? That answer, unfortunately, is jaded by the truth. He couldn't possibly. I'm sure the only reason he propositioned me with that coin toss was that a) he was drunk and b) he was already a horny mess from being stood up by his mystery date, and c) I was an easy and convenient choice. What was I thinking? More importantly, what am I thinking right now? Why am I even questioning Ben's intentions? He doesn't have relationships and acquaints himself with many women and one-night stands.
It meant nothing.
Plus, we could never be more than friends anyway. We know too much about each other. Everything is too familiar. And I know everything about him. I know he hates reality TV, insists boxer briefs are the greatest invention for the male anatomy, and prefers salty food over sweet treats. I also know he has strange-sounding bubble farts, sneaks his homemade popcorn into movie theatres, and insists spending countless hours on The Chive is considered an actual hobby.
I let out a huge sigh, fearing that I might get too deep with myself. Instead, I ask myself a final question: Am I still open to meeting Steven?
There is no second-guessing this answer; it is simple. Yes, I am. I am open to meeting Steven for my sanity. I deserve a real man. A man who will like my natural A-cup breasts over fake D-cup breasts. A man who will enjoy my intelligence and ambition over a ditsy, attention-seeking bartender. And finally, a man who will take me on an actual first date and not flip a coin to decide if he wants to have sex with me.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Let me in. I have to pee." Stephanie wiggles the bathroom door handle.
Using the back of my hand, I wipe away a few unshed tears from my eyes.
"Okay. Just a minute."
After a few beats and deep breaths, I pull open the door to see Stephanie pinching her legs together and doing a dance-like saunter. She pushes past me and drops down onto the toilet to relieve her bladder.
Moments later, I hear the toilet flush sound, and Stephanie appears before me. "I hope you plan on changing your outfit for dinner," she says, scanning my body from head to toe.
I glance down at my outfit- a black crop top and jean shorts- and shrug. "I wasn't necessarily planning on it. What's wrong with my outfit?"
"It's too casual," she says, reaching into my luggage. "There is no sex appeal whatsoever. Don't you own anything that screams sexy vacationer?"
"Maybe."
Stephanie is making a mess of my luggage. I try to push her aside, but she swats at my hands. She pulls out a royal blue dress and thrusts it in my direction.
"Here, try this on instead."
I shake my head. "I was saving that dress for the bachelorette party."
Stephanie rolls her eyes. "Michelle, get in here," she shouts.
Michelle appears in the doorway wearing a sexy high-low hem dress with an eye-catching print in purple tones. The dress's style does wonders for her curvy figure. Her legs look long in black suede strappy sandals, and her blonde hair sweeps to the side in a low, subtle bun.
"What's going on?" she asks.
"We need to help Megan," Stephanie says. "She cannot wear a tank top and shorts to dinner. Our photo ops require we're dressed similarly. I am not posting to Instagram with Megan dressed like this."
Michelle gives me a quick once-over. "Do you want to borrow one of my dresses?" she asks.
I shrug. "I didn't think my outfit was that bad?"
"It's not," Michelle assures me. She glares at Stephanie before redirecting her attention to me. "But if you want, you can borrow something of mine. Let me play dress-up with you. Come on; it will be fun."
I glance over at Stephanie and notice she looks fancy, too. Her brown hair is curled loosely, and her makeup is on point. Her cute black dress emphasizes her busty chest and makes her look classy and sexy.
I dress for comfort. I like Converse sneakers, jeans, and graphic T-shirts. The only time I dress up is for work. And even then, all I do to spruce up my look is throw on a blazer and ballet flats. But since this will be my first time meeting Steven, I can sex it up for one night.
"Okay. Fine," I surrender to Michelle's offer. "Fancy me up."
She claps her hands together. "Yay. This will be fun."
"I'll grab the makeup bag," Stephanie says. "Michelle, you find her a dress."
Thirty minutes later, Stephanie had done my makeup, Michelle had curled my hair, and I'd tried thirteen different dress options. When I finally decided on one, I changed and stepped into our villa's living area for my big reveal.
Stephanie's eyes widen. "Wow. You clean up well, Megan."
Michelle smiles. "Okay. Close your eyes. You have to see yourself in a full-length mirror."
She covers my eyes with her hands and leads me toward the mirror. I trip only once or twice, which is decent, considering I wear six-inch heels.
"Ta-da." Michelle removes her hands, and I finally see myself in the mirror.
I am shocked at how good I look. I step closer to the mirror, wondering if the reflection is me. I poke a finger on my bronzed cheek to ensure this is real and not a figment of my imagination. I study myself in the mirror, noticing the use of black eyeliner to accentuate a smokey eye. My lips are a deep purplish-pink and matte, not glossy. I must admit that my brown hair is wavy and pinned to the side, which looks glamorous.
I knew this dress felt good when I wore it, but I had no idea how good it looked. I picked a black and beige patterned cocktail dress. The top bodice creates an impressive illusion of cleavage. These peep-toe pumps make my legs seem lean and long to finish my look.
"Say something," Stephanie says, in a rush.
"I look frickin hot," I shout. I turn to face them, beaming. I engage in a girly moment of jumping and hugging Michelle and Stephanie.
"You look incredible," Michelle smiles. "Steven is going to be blown away." She hands me a small black clutch.
After a quick shuttle ride, we walked up to a restaurant overlooking the ocean. The purple night sky is full of sparkling stars, and the sound of waves crashing against the sand relaxes me. Michelle leads the way into the restaurant. I spot Jessica and Michael mingling with their family on a patio.
When Jessica spots us, she does a double-take. She stopped mid-conversation with her Aunt Florence and walked in our direction.
Jessica grabs my hands. "Megan, you look fantastic. Steven is going to flip at the sight of you."
"We gave her a mini-makeover," Michelle says, smiling.
"What did you do to her?" Jessica asks, laughing a little. "You are always beautiful, but you look really, really good."
My face heats. "Thanks."
"I contoured," Stephanie says. "I also applied fake lashes and gave her a dramatic eye."
"Well, you look beautiful," Jessica says.
"You look beautiful too," I tell her. She does, and she looks terrific in her red frilly dress.
We go to the bar and order drinks. When the bartender handed me my cocktail, I saw Ben strolling into the restaurant with Eric and Matthew on either side.
They are late. I assume this is due to gross alcohol consumption in their villa before their arrival. And I have reason to believe my suspicions are correct when I see Matthew stumble and Eric rub his bloodshot eyes. Ben keeps his head down and his hands in his pockets.
But once they reach the bar, Ben finally looks up and sees me. He stops and gives me an appreciative head-to-toe body scan. His smile widens, and he leans against the bar, studying me. "Trying to impress someone?" he asks, smirking.
"Not you," I tell him. "But thanks for noticing. I look nice."
He licks his lips, his eyes moving to my mouth. I remember how it felt to kiss him. He steps closer, and I take a step back.
"You're welcome." He waves to the bartender and says, "Can you get me a whiskey, and she'll take a vodka water?"
I shake my head. "I'm good with a glass of wine. Thanks, though."
He raises a brow. "You're good, huh?"
"Yeah. Jessica is introducing me to her cousin Steven for the first time tonight," I say. His smile dissolves slowly, and he runs a finger over his forehead, studying me. "I'd like to be semi-sober. Vodka water is dangerous. It goes down way too smooth."
Before Ben can respond, Eric drapes an arm around my shoulders and says, "Hello there, Megan. Ow. Ow." He laughs and gives me a wink. "You look like you've got a hot date."
"She does," Ben says, face cold.
Eric raises his eyebrows. "Who's the lucky guy?"
"Jessica's cousin, Steven," Ben replies before I can open my mouth.
"Nice," Eric says, holding his hand up for a high-five. I slap his palm and take a sip of my drink. Ben and I stare at each other. His eyes grow unreadable, and he turns away from us, heading toward the dinner table.
"Come on, let's grab a seat," Eric suggests and follows behind Ben.
I glance at our table and see Matthew seated beside Michelle and Stephanie beside Ben. Eric takes the empty chair beside Matthew, leaving a seat directly across from Ben. I sit down, feeling my heart slam in my sternum, skin growing hot from his eyes. "Are you sure you want to sit with us?" he asks. "Maybe Steven saved you a seat."
I can't push any air past the tangle in my throat. Finally, I manage, "I'm sure he would've. But we haven't been introduced."
Ben smirked at my discomfort and ran his fingers through his hair. He leans back in his chair, biting his lower lip, watching me. For a moment, I let myself admire how defined his muscles look in his white V-neck t-shirt and how his five o'clock shadow looks flawless on his tanned skin. His brows knitted together; his hair falls forward to cover one eye. I'm surprised he hasn't reached up to push it back – a habit I find endearing - but he's so focused and intent on watching me that he hasn't moved a muscle.
My cheeks heat from Ben's intense gaze. I look away and reach for my drink, but I'm distracted further when I see Matthew kiss Michelle on the cheek. He whispers something in her ear, and she giggles in response and playfully bats him with a limp fist.
This catches me off guard for two reasons. To everyone's knowledge, they've broken up for at least six months and are currently in relationships with other people. I shouldn't be surprised, though. Their relationship has been complicated for as long as I've known them. One day, they are on again, and the next, they call it quits. It takes work to keep up with their dysfunction.
"What the hell are you two doing?" Eric laughs, leaning back in his chair.
Michelle's jaw drops. "What?"
"This," Eric waves a finger between Matthew and Michelle. "You two. Flirting and cheek kissing. Don't even think about it."
"We're friends," Matthew clarifies. "That's it. What you saw was nothing. Just a little appreciation towards my friend Michelle."
Stephanie and I both glared at Michelle, waiting for her to confess to their once again not-so-secret affair.
"That didn't look very friendly," I say to illustrate Eric's point further. "And may I remind you that you are both dating other people."
"Who cares," Ben laughs. "If they want to fuck around, then whatever. It's no one's business."
Ben's immediate reaction to applaud them for cheating on their current relationships with each other sends a chill up my spine. How could he think it's okay to cheat? This angers me. And what angers me even more is the smug look on his face. When he reaches across the table to cheer his drink to Matthew, I want to punch him.
I quickly force myself back into the conversation. "In that case, to multiple partners and casual sex with friends." I raise my glass to Ben, enjoying watching his smug smile falter to a frown.