Dinner with Steven was precisely how I imagined our first date would be. When we were ushered to our table, he pulled out a chair for me, just like he did for his mother. He was the perfect gentleman- polite, courteous, and kind. He complimented my outfit, a cute striped jumper that I fancied up with chunky jewelry and a pair of black pumps. He told me I looked gorgeous and said I had the prettiest brown eyes.
He even suggests he order for both of us. I've never had a man take such control before. He ordered our drinks, appetizers, and main course. I'm even more impressed when he doesn't order me vodka water, as Ben suggested. Instead, he orders us an expensive bottle of white wine. I silently laugh to myself because Ben hates white wine. He insists it's way too sweet and considers it a fancy fruit juice compared to red wine.
When I take my first sip, I feel wicked satisfaction, as though I somehow get back at Ben for his rude behaviour earlier by enjoying his most hated wine.
Throughout dinner, our conversation never dulls. There are no awkward pauses. Our banter is easy and natural. Steven's positive vibe is contagious. He even tells me the reason for his divorce; his wife admitted she was a lesbian. I nearly choke on my garlic shrimp when he tells me this. I didn't expect that.
Steven assures me there aren't any hard feelings between them. After their divorce, they remained friends. I feel relieved to hear this, as divorce can be messy.
When the waiter clears dishes from the table, Steven leans back and calmly asks, "So, I know you said Ben's not always that protective." I meet his eyes from across the table, feeling an anxious jolt up my spine. "But I couldn't help but notice how he looked at you earlier. Maybe you two had something more than friendship in the past. Because I mean, and I don't mean to pry, but you've been friends since the ninth grade and never once crossed that line?"
Oh shit.
I laugh nervously and take a sip of wine. "Of course not," I lie. "We're just friends. Ben doesn't like me like that." This is true. Sex and feelings are two different things in Ben's world.
Steven studied me for a brief moment. "It's just... when guys and girls are just friends, and as close as you two seem to be, usually someone develops feelings at some point. Whether in the past or present, I think it's inevitable."
"I beg to differ," I say, feeling mighty defensive. "Ben was just grumpy. And it's not always inevitable. Just because two people are friends and the opposite sex doesn't mean they want to bang each other."
Steven frowns. "I'm sorry... it's just...I like you. And I told you about my ex-wife. I just wanted to make sure nothing was going on between you two. And if something has, I'd rather know sooner than later. I wouldn't want to be moving forward only to find out otherwise." He runs a hand over his face. "And maybe I'm being way too forward and getting ahead of myself...but I hope you can appreciate my concern."
I nod, palms sweaty. I hate lying. I especially hate lying to Steven, especially after he was so open and honest with me. But then again, what happened between Ben and me will never happen again, and more importantly, no one will ever know about it.
"I appreciate your concern," I tell him. "You have nothing to worry about, though. We're just friends. And Ben will come around. I promise."
___
After dinner, after I thanked Steven again for the flowers, we walked hand in hand down the beach. Despite how my hand feels awkwardly intertwined with his, I feel the heat of my blush through the resort grounds and wonder if it's possible to make things work with Steven even though I'd lied to him about Ben. Trust is everything in a relationship. Should I have told him? I should've. But if I told Steven about that coin toss with Ben, it would somehow mean something, which it didn't.
Steven smiles at me with his bright blue eyes. "I had a perfect time tonight."
"Me too," I say back.
"And I enjoyed your company."
Smiling, I say, "Ditto."
He laughs and leans closer, placing his mouth inches away from mine. I panic a little and take a step backward. "I think I should head back to my villa. You know, to change into some flats before we meet Jessica and my friends for a drink."
Steven leans back to meet my eyes, looking a little wounded. "If that's what you'd like to do, I can walk you to your villa. But I don't think I'll come to the bar for a drink."
"Oh..." I open my mouth, take a deep breath, and close it again. His polite and respectful behaviour is such a small thing, but it feels strange between us. It makes me feel like I am somehow picking Ben over him.
"It's okay, Megan," he says. "I told a few of my cousins I'd meet up with them later if you decided to meet up with your friends. I'm not upset. I understand." He closes the space between us by placing his hand on the column behind me so it no longer presses against my body. "Let me walk you to your villa."
I nod, swallow, and feel my Spidey senses kick into overdrive. Steven wants to kiss me. I should want to kiss him, too, but everything feels too much. Too soon. And maybe Steven also senses my anxiety because instead of getting closer, he reaches for my hand. He lifts it slowly to his mouth and kisses the back of it.
As promised, Steven walks me to my villa. We say our goodbyes at the end of the road. I thank him again and tell him I hope to see him later, which, in truth, I'm not sure what I want.
I walk down the cobblestone path to my villa, ready to remove my heels and change into a pair of flats. I close my eyes for a beat, thinking. I want things with Steven to work so badly. But something doesn't feel right. I don't feel excited or giddy or intrigued by this new man in my life. And there is no reason I shouldn't be feeling these things. Steven is a great catch. He's handsome, friendly, and successful. He's related to Jessica, and he genuinely seems to like me. What the hell is wrong with me? Could it be Ben?
I groan and toss my head back as I walk toward the villa's front door. As I step onto the front stoop, I stop moving. I am shocked to see Ben sitting next to the front door, elbows on his knees. He startles and rises to his feet when he sees me. In unison, we take a cautious step toward each other, sharing a worried glance. Fuck, what is he doing here?
"Hey," he whispers.
I'm still mad at him for embarrassing me in front of Steven and even more so for his rude and chauvinistic behaviour. I have nothing to say to him.
"Go away, Ben." I swiped my key card and pushed open the front door. "I don't even want to hear an apology. I want you to leave."
Just as I am about to close the door on him, he wedges himself into the doorframe.
"Megan," he says quietly. The two syllables fill my head and hijack my pulse. He smiles a secret little smile and then looks at my mouth. His tongue slips out, wetting his bottom lip.
"What do you want, Ben?" I whisper. "Why are you here at my villa and not drinking with our friends at the bar?" I hold my hands, my words coming out in a breathless tumble. "You're weirding me out. Say something."
He steps a little closer, puts his hand on my hip, and I close my eyes as his warm palm slides up to just under my breast and along my rib cage. I wonder for a beat if he can feel my heart hammering. I feel my pulse everywhere, slamming through my chest and all along my skin.
"I'm sorry if I came across like an asshole earlier," he says. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"Try epic asshole."
"I didn't like seeing that guy –"
"His name is Steven."
" - thinking he could just ruin our dinner plans. That's so fucking ballsy," he says.
I frown, unable to hide my irritation. "It's called dating, Ben. Maybe you should try it sometime. Not everyone just fucks and chucks as you do."
His eyes narrow. "You can't actually like this guy."
"Why not?"
"He's over the top. And I know you hate when guys come on too strong. Even you must admit flowers are so cheesy," he says, watching me.
I don't want to agree with him, but I do. He knows me too well. I don't like it when a guy comes on too strong. Also, flowers can be cheesy sometimes. Maybe cliché is a better choice of word.
Regardless, I don't know why he cares.
"So," he says, his voice dropping to barely a decibel. "Did he woo you over dinner and win your heart?"
"Not entirely," I wince in the darkroom, wishing I hadn't answered so quickly.
"I don't know how you could even look at the guy when you fucked me forty-eight hours ago." He takes my hand, and with his eyes trained on my face, he brings it to his mouth.
I close my eyes for a beat, swallowing. "I don't know what you want from me, Ben."
"I want to fuck you again."
I take a deep breath and glance over at my bedroom door.
"Here? Now?"
He follows the path my eyes have taken and nods his head.
I swallow, suddenly shy and step closer to him. And when the light peppermint smell of his shampoo hits me, I grow aware of how excited I am. I've never been so nervous around Ben before, but right now, I am. I don't even care about anything else outside this villa. I am ready to fall apart in his hands. Is it crazy I want to have sex with him again, too?
"Fuck, Megan, I can't take it anymore." Ben exhales, fisting his hands into my air. Our lips collide, and he pins me to the wall. His lips are so soft, and he smells amazing. I open my mouth, our tongues collide, and he groans loudly. That is the best fucking reaction. My mind floods with images of him lifting me off the floor and carrying me over to the bed, his mouth opening and pressing hard and hungrily into my breast as he rocks me over.
For a brief and fleeting moment, I feel myself wanting to resist him, wanting to still hate him for how he acted today and, mostly, wanting to hate myself for allowing this to happen again. But I can't bring myself to do any of it. I want this, too.
I reach for his belt, unfastening it, and move my fingers from his hips, sliding up his waist to the top button of his shirt. He inhales a sharp breath, eyes wide, mouth parted, and hands shaking as he slips the strap of my jumpsuit from my shoulder. He watches me intently briefly, giving me his most incredulous look, just daring me to stop him. Except I don't. I do feel myself hesitate for a brief moment, though. I feel deliciously tortured by this decision. Do I give myself like this to Ben again? My body reacts before my mind can stop with a logical reason, and I unzip his fly, fingers unsure, before he moves closer and slips off my jumpsuit, dropping it to the floor.
I stand in front of him in a simple white lace bra. He reaches behind me and meets my eyes for permission before unclasping the bra and sliding it from my arms.
"So that you know," he whispers into my ear. "You don't have to do anything to me."
"Just so you know," I say quietly, "keeping my hands to myself would be impossible. I want this, too."
And just like that, I've made my decision.
He groans, and our mouths collide again as I move my hands to the waist of his shorts. Together we work them and his boxer briefs down his hips, freeing his cock between us. We look at each other, breathing heavily. In one seamless motion, he leans in and kisses my throat, grabs onto my bare ass and lifts me, carrying me through the villa, into my bedroom and guides me onto the bed.
I tingle all over as he releases me onto the pillows, and I watch him quickly peel off his shirt. I admire his eight-pack as he leans over me and places his lips back on mine. I pull him close, sucking on his bottom lip as I slide my hands along his smooth muscular back and down to his hips.
He slides his hand beneath the cotton of my underwear, and I freeze at the sensation of rough, warm skin. "What are we doing?" I ask him, panting. I feel a little unhinged—a little panicked.
He rocks a little, hovering perfectly over my lips. "I just can't stop thinking about you," he whispers. "Just one more time, Megs."
Okay. If I see him just one more time, he will be out of my system for good. Then, tomorrow, we can return to being just friends like nothing happened.
I quiver, feeling his hands run over my stomach and down, just barely grazing my skin. He looks down at the length of my body, and I glance up at him, silently acknowledging this crazy pull between us. I look at his eyes and then his mouth before moving the last inch to kiss him. Something feels right for the first time tonight, and it has something to do with Ben's lips colliding with mine. And any prior debate over not allowing this to happen again is gone.
He slips a finger between my lips, "Holy. Fuck," he moans. "You're drenched. Jesus Christ, Megs."
"I like it," I admit, pressing my mouth against his neck. "I like it when you touch me. I like how it feels."
"Fuck, Megs. I want to lick up and down every part of you. You taste so good."
"Ben..."
He slides two fingers inside my sex, and I shiver under his touch, letting out a quiet moan. I moan even more so when I feel his length between my legs. His thumb rolls over my clit, and he whispers dirty things in my ear, telling me how much he wants me to melt all over his hand, how much he loves watching me come, and how incredibly sexy I look in his arms.
Tiny choking sounds escape from my mouth as he whispers and moves. Fantasies of feeling Ben inside me again, cock hard, body taut, and over top of me and his mouth kissing my lips cause me to unravel. Ben feels this, and his hand moves faster and harder into me in response. I'm so wet and wiggling all over his hand, making desperate pleading sounds. I barely even recognize my voice.
He pulls back for a moment and whispers, "Fuck, Megs. I want to make you explode."
I can see how badly he wants this, how badly he wants me. As he slides his fingers deeper, faster, pressing his thumb up against my clit and working it right on the sweetest spot, rolling tighter and smaller circles, I know I am so close.
"Your sounds," he murmurs. "You're so smooth. So wet."
I start to dissolve. My body is completely losing it. I crumble beneath him, quivering and gasping. My thighs shake, and he wraps a free arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him.
"I'm coming," I moan.
With a wild jerk of my hips, I do, shaking and wet. My orgasm ripples through my entire body, and I dig my nails into Ben's shoulders. I have no sense of what the outside world has done while I've melted in Ben's arms. And all I know now is that I need him inside me.
My hands shake as I try to guide his cock inside me. He stops my hands and presses his mouth against my ear. "Good?" he murmurs.
"Yeah," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pressing my face into the crook of his neck. "So good. But now I want you inside me."
I move my hands into his hair and watch as he guides himself inside me. He hisses in a breath as he rocks against me, faster and faster. He grips my breast, plumping it, and sucks my nipple deep into his mouth. The air leaves my lungs, and my hips press up from the bed, searching. I scratch at his skin and am rewarded each time with a mumble or groan. I close my eyes, feeling the heat of his tongue over my body as he moves inside me. He kisses my lips and my throat. We move in unison, and we breathe heavy and stiff. His mouth against me, his cock driving deeper inside me.
"You have no idea how badly I've wanted this," he says, his eyes widened, his face blazing with thrill.
I gasped, surprised to find him looking down at me, lips parted and hair falling across his forehead. Everything blurs as the feeling between my legs grows, becoming hotter and more urgent. I meet his thrusts, and we move in perfect rhythm.
"You feel so good," he says, rocking his hips forward with the perfect drag of heat and pressure, exactly where I need it. When he moves, I move with him, and when he moans, I feel the same pleasure. I can feel us both start to fall; closing my eyes as another orgasm moves down my spine and explodes between my legs. I call out, crying his name and feeling him speed up as he moves against me. His fingers press tightly onto my hips as he pushes once, twice, grunting into my neck as he comes.
Feeling seeps back into my body, one limb at a time. I feel heavy and limp and suddenly so exposed. Ben collapses against me, his breath hot on my neck.
He pushes onto his elbows and looks down at me, tired but pleased. "So..." he says, a crooked smile sliding into place. "That happened again."
I blow a few wild strands of hair from my face. "Yeah. It did."
Ben rolls onto his side, and I take the opportunity to pull a sheet over my naked body. I feel incredibly bare despite how, only seconds ago, he was inside me.
He faces me, props his elbow on the pillow, and rests his head on the palm of his hand. "I'm not sure I can handle that being the last time."
I stare at him for a long moment. "It has to be."
He looks wounded. "Why?"
He can't be serious. We agreed one last time. We are best friends. I'm seeing Steven. Hell, I just had dinner with him!
"I'm not looking for a bang-buddy," I tell him. "And Jessica set me up with Steven. We were just on a date." I wince internally at this thought. Sleeping with one guy while casually seeing another is something I have never done before. It doesn't feel right. "The two of us having sex again complicates things..." my voice trails off, and I can feel him watching me. "I also refuse to end up like Matthew and Michelle. Their friendship has been obliterated. Promise me that this won't happen again."
Ben's eyes widen before he puts on a calm, unaffected mask. He rolls away from me and sits up on the edge of the bed, sliding on his underwear. He keeps his eyes straight ahead and gets dressed. As he walks out of my bedroom, I need to explain myself.
"Wait," I say, and he stops but doesn't turn around. "I'm just confused, okay? I don't understand why you showed up at my door. And I don't understand why we thought it was a good idea to have sex again. Or why you'd even want it to keep on happening."
"I don't know why either," he says, turning around, his eyes dark. "You're right. You deserve more than a bang-buddy."
My heart slams against my ribcage. I may crumble to the floor.
"I knew it," I can feel my bottom lip tremble. "You wanted to fuck me again to sabotage my relationship with Steven."
He runs a hand over his face. "Megan..."
I continue in a breathless tumble. "I know exactly how you operate. You always have no-strings-attached sex with random women. And just because you're in a sex slump, you thought you could have that kind of arrangement with me, the only girl in Chicago you haven't fucked. Jesus Christ, Ben. Am I the only one who cares about our friendship? If we keep on sleeping together, things could get even messier. I don't want to lose you as my friend."
He looks at me as if I'm completely insane. "How can you even compare yourself to those girls? They don't mean anything to me," he says. "If anyone knows that, you do."
I take a deep breath. "I have no idea where all this is coming from. And it's confusing as hell. Why couldn't you just let me be happy for once with a nice guy?"
"You mean Steven?" he asks, frowning. "Because it didn't seem like you were missing him a whole lot fifteen minutes ago."
I glare at him, feeling my skin itch with anger.
"Go to hell, Ben."
I start to walk past him, eyes straight ahead. My shoulder unintentionally brushes his as I pass. His hand wraps around my elbow, stopping me from moving forward.
"Megan," he whispers against my ear. "I've known you for so long." Slowly, I turn to face him. "Hooking up with you like this is not the same as hooking up with a random girl." He looks down at me, brushing a loose strand of hair over my shoulder. "You're not the only one who feels confused."
I close my eyes for a beat. "Okay."
"So, okay, we're doing this?" he asks.
I can feel myself blush hotly, watching Ben push his hands into the pockets of his shorts. So, we've established a few things:
We are both confused.We don't want this to end.We have no idea what this means.
It's a horrible idea to agree to keep doing this with him, but my heart doesn't want my mind to stop it.
"If we keep doing this," I say, touching his chest. "What do I tell Steven?"
He smiles, putting his hands on my shoulders. "You don't owe him an explanation," he says, kissing my forehead. "Say nothing."
I glance up at him warily. "Um. I can't be sleeping with both of you."
"Please. You are a serial monogamist. You would never –"
"This," I shift my hands between us. "Is not dating, Ben."
He studied me for a moment. "Are you suggesting that you're still going to see Steven?"
"If I don't, Jessica will suspect something," I tell him. "And if this is just sex between us, then I don't want to give up on a great guy because of this, either. I mean, I won't ever sleep with both of you at the same time, but if Steven asks me to hang out this week, I won't say no."
Ben's eyes darken. "Fine. But if some hot chick comes along, I won't say no either."
"Fine."
"Fine."
After a few long beats of silence, I finally speak. "We should head down to the bar. Everyone is probably wondering where we are," I say. Ben remains silent, watching me. I shift uncomfortably. "This needs to stay between us, okay? No telling anyone."
Finally, he smiles. "Okay." Tilting his head, he indicates that we should move, then turns and leads the way down the cobblestone pathway. But I have no idea what the hell we've even agreed to.
On the walk to the bar, Ben flirts with me, and I can't help but flirt back. He even presses me against a wall, fists his hands into my hair and kisses me unexpectedly. I can't bring myself to resist him, so I sink against him and kiss him back.
"We are going to get caught," I mumble against his lips.
Ben grins before he kisses me again. "You smell so good, though." His hand slides along my bare leg, and I stiffen.
"Not here," I warn him, pushing him away. "What if someone sees us?"
Ben smirked, taking a step back and held up his hand in surrender.
When we walked into the bar, I saw Jessica resting her head on Michael's shoulder, gazing fixedly at the entertainment on stage. Michelle and Stephanie sat together on the table's right side, while Eric and Matthew sat together on the left side. They spotted us right away.
"He's alive!" Matthew shouts, slow-clapping in Ben's direction. "And I see you found, Megan."
"We were about to call resort security. Where the hell were you?" Eric asks, shifting his gaze between Ben and me. "There is no way you spent over two hours searching for your cell phone."
Before Ben could answer, Jessica perked up and shouted, "Yay, Megan. You made it." She springs up from her seat and runs in my direction, throwing her arms around my neck. After a moment, she pulled away and gave Ben a once-over as he lingered by my side. "How did you two end up together?" she asks. "And where is Steven? How was your date? Please tell me you are already in love."
Ben and I share a secret little smile before he tells some elaborate story about how he found me on his way back to the bar after locating his "lost" cell phone. Our friends buy the story, but of course, they would. Ben and I together and alone is nothing new. It's normal. The only thing that frightens me is how easily Ben lied. But I also reminded myself this was an unusual circumstance. Ben would never lie to me.
"Anywho," Jessica says in a sing-song voice. "Enough about Ben's lost cell phone. What I need are details, Megan. I am dying to know how your date with Steven went. Did he kiss you?"
Ben lingers, eavesdropping.
"No."
Jessica places a hand on her heart and looks aghast. "What? Why not?" she asks. "If things went well, why didn't he kiss you?"
"Because he's a gentleman," I say loud enough for Ben to hear me.
"True," Jessica nods, smiling. "I'm sure he'll kiss you on your next date. There is the next date, right?"
"Yeah. I think so."
I meet Ben's unreadable but watchful eyes. I shrug, wondering if he remembers saying, " Fine. " But if some hot chick comes along, I won't say no, either. And if he does, I wonder if he can see in my eyes that I can risk saying no, too. Thinking about how this will eventually have to end with Ben- for both our sakes- is making me a little light-headed.
Jessica chatters about how she is the world's best matchmaker. She guides me into an empty chair beside her but across from Ben.
I watch as he speaks to the server. I can't hear what he's saying, but I see him point in my direction, and the server nods with a smile. I am confident he has ordered a drink for me.
Ben glances at me, and we share a little smile in the dimly lit bar. I can't help but think that even though we have destroyed our once perfectly platonic friendship, a part of us that was missing since the coin toss is now back.
As conversation carries around the table, I look up when Jessica oohs at a server approaching our table. The server places a lime margarita on the rocks before me, and I blush hotly. I can't even bring myself to make eye contact with Ben.
No one except Ben knows I have an emotional attachment to Margaritas.
Two years ago, after I sold my first real estate listing, Ben and I went to a little Mexican restaurant to celebrate. When I told him I had never had a margarita before, he insisted I had to have one. One sip, and I was in love with tequila and lime. After a few too many, I swore to him I would only drink margaritas for big celebratory moments.
And that's exactly what I did.
I stood by my drunken margarita promise and only involved Ben in my tradition. For example, when I passed my broker exam, Ben and I made tacos at my apartment and drank margaritas. And when I bought my first car, I drove straight to Ben's, and we drank margaritas. And even when I broke up with Marco - for the final time – Ben came over to my place, held me when I cried and made us margaritas.
Finally, I look up at him, watching him reach for his drink. He raises his glass in my direction from the other end of the table with a smile.
"I think the entire table needs a round of margaritas," Jessica says to the server. "They just scream celebration."
As I raise my drink to Ben's, I am overwhelmed and calm at the same time. And I am also terrified of what this means. Who would have thought I'd be blushing because Ben ordered me a drink? I want to reach across the table and kiss him, and I want to grab him by the hand and bring him back to my villa.
Maybe we both are way over our heads, and this margarita moment is only the beginning.