"Stay with me tonight," he says, reaching between us to rub my hip bone. "I was supposed to meet Matthew and Eric for a drink. But I'll ditch them if I can spend more time with you."
"What will you tell them?"
"I'll figure it out," he whispers, sucking on my jaw. "Tell me you don't have other plans."
"I was about to meet Stephanie and Michelle for dinner."
"You don't want to stay here with me?" he counters, hands sliding over my ass, hips rocking.
I moan, kissing his neck. "You're such a bad influence."
"I'll take that as a yes," he says. Reaching for his cell phone, he holds it out with a smile, "Call Stephanie and Michelle. Tell them you can't make it. Please."
My heart hammers in my throat, chest, and every inch of my skin—part of me wonders if I should separate myself from Ben tonight. I need to focus on what my heart wants versus what my body wants. But I can't bring myself to say no to him for some reason.
His soft and pleading voice repeats, "Please, Megan."
Those two simple words were all I needed to cave into his proposition despite my better judgment. He placed his cell phone in my hand, and I dialed Michelle's number. She picked up on the third ring.
"Hey," I say, feeling his eyes watching me.
"You're awake," she says. "Are you meeting us for dinner?"
Ben leans forward, kissing my collarbone and my neck. I'm unprepared to feel dizzy from the feel of him, the sensation of his lips kissing my bare skin.
"No," I say, my voice shaky. "Thanks for the invite, though. I'm not hungry and still too tired to leave the villa."
"Aw, okay," she says, sounding disappointed. "Rest up. We'll see you later."
She clicks off from our call.
Ben kisses my forehead and squeezes my thighs. Slowly, he removed his cell phone from my hand and tapped out a text.
"Who are you texting?" I ask.
"Eric," he says.
I'm going to stay in. I'll take it easy tonight.
Three little dots pop up before I see Eric's response:
Since when did you grow a vagina?
It's your loss, man.
There is a ton of tight young ass in the bar tonight.
Ben catches me staring at Eric's response and quickly tucks his phone into his back pocket.
"Maybe you should meet Eric and Matthew at the bar." The words tumble out before I consider whether it's what I truly want to suggest.
He looked over his shoulder, closed the door and entered the bathroom. "I think I'd rather stay here with you, " he said.
Space seems to shrink, and we stand, staring at each other.
"But you're missing out on a ton of tight young ass," I manage.
It's the first time since the coin toss in Chicago that sleeping with Ben may be the riskiest thing I've ever done. I'm in way over my head. How can I keep my feelings from him without them showing every time I look at him?
"I'm not interested," he whispers.
"Oh."
"Megs," he scratches his neck. "I just... want to stay here and kiss you again."
He takes a few steps closer until he can run his hands under my dress and up my thighs. He hovers over my lips, eyes watching mine.
"But you shouldn't," I say against his lips. "You shouldn't want this. Not with me."
"Probably not." His mouth moves over my chin, down my jaw, sucking and nibbling. "You shouldn't want this either. But you do. You haven't kicked me out yet, now have you?"
I shake my head.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he whispers. "And I don't want to stop at just kissing."
"We're crazy to keep doing this," I say, stepping back far enough to unbutton his jeans. "We shouldn't – "
He stills my hands. "I want this."
"I do, too."
"You're not the only one scared of what this means. But didn't we decide we don't want to stop?"
"I know. I know. But the longer this goes on, the harder it will be to return to how things were between us."
He smiles. "Some risks are worth the reward."
"Ben," I hiss, closing my eyes and stifling a groan as he pushes my dress up to my hips and slides a warm finger along my slit. "We really shouldn't."
He stops, gently holding me. "Megs, I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."
I open my eyes, looking at him. Is he trying to reassure me this isn't just sex for him? I don't want to push him further on his promise because I'm unsure what I want from him now. I know I want to feel him inside me again. I also know I'd like for him to place his head between my legs. But can I see a future with Ben back in Chicago? The inability to answer this question immediately worries me.
"Hey," he whispers. "You okay?"
I nod without having to say a word.
"If this is too much for you, I'm okay with no sexy times," he says, smiling. "I just want to spend time with you."
His words hang between us when he looks at me, eyes wide and pleading.
"I'd like to spend time with you, too," I smile. "Not that I don't want sexy times...because I do -"
He smiles, running a thumb along my cheek.
"- it's just...I miss you."
"You miss me?"
I nod. "I miss Megan and Ben before the coin toss. And if this is ever going to work between us, we need more than just sexy times. We need the best of both worlds."
"Are you suggesting we could be more than friends?"
Is that what I want? To be more than just friends with Ben? I never expected it to put my heart on the line so hard.
I blush. "Maybe."
His eyes darken, and he stares at my mouth. "I could take you on a real date when we return to Chicago," he says.
"You don't take girls on real dates. You swipe right and meet them at a dingy bar for a drink and a hookup."
He closed his eyes, his jaw tight. "Okay, I know. My track record isn't great. I've never been good at relationships and I have given you no reason to believe otherwise. I've just never been good at the intimate part of getting to know someone."
"I'm someone," I remind him.
Smiling, he whispers, "Yes, you are."
"And you know me."
He laughs, "I do."
"You're not incapable of being intimate."
"Not with you," he murmurs, watching me. "Never with you."
"Do you think our already established friendship intimacy could survive relationship intimacy?"
He slides a finger under my chin and tilts my face so I have to look at him. His mouth presses against mine once before he says, "I tell you everything. You already know everything about me. I'm always honest with you. Is that what you want?"
I want him to tell me there is no one else. I want him to say, Now that we've slept together, we only sleep with each other.
But I shut it down whenever he tries to talk with me about where this is going. I'm worried he's only saying what I want to hear. I'm worried it's not possible for him to be interested in me as more than a friend he fucks. Or should I be forward and tell him I want all of him or nothing? Why am I so guarded? Is it because I'm scared I'll mess things up and lose him forever?
"Please don't break my heart, Ben."
His brows pull together. "After everything we've been through, you still don't trust me. Why do you think I'd break your heart? Do you think I'd want to hurt you?" His voice sounds pained, and it sucks something raw inside me.
"I think you could, even if you didn't want to."
He sighs, pressing his face into my neck. "Maybe you already know too much about me."
"Maybe," I whisper, running my hands into the hair at the nape of his neck. "I've watched you get bored with every girl you've ever dated. You like the chase. You live for your career. I'm worried you'll never be ready for something real. We work as friends. I'm not sure we'd ever work as more than that."
Ben tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I think you underestimate how much you mean to me."
"I don't think you could commit." I take several deep breaths and whisper, "Would you still want to date other people?"
"I think you need to tell me that, Megan."
I close my eyes, wondering if I could tell him I'll forget about Steven. That I won't want to date anyone else. I'd, of course, want him to agree to the same. But I don't want it to be up to me. If Ben will be with one girl, it has to be because of how he feels for me. It can't be because I'm the one who decided to commit to him.
His mouth finds mine, giving me a sweet, gentle kiss. "I love how you taste, like strawberries and cream."
"I sound delicious."
"You are," he laughs. "I also love that you're not wearing any makeup." His solid arms are around my waist, and I lean back, melting into him. "You're stunning au naturel."
I blush when he says this. My mind flashes to something similar that Ben said to me a few months ago. After a Sunday jog around Millennium Park, we were both hunched over and winded, leaning on a park bench. When I turned down the music on my phone and pulled out my earbuds, I saw Ben watching me. "I love your natural glow," he said, smiling.
I thanked him, thinking nothing of it.
But I think a lot of it when he says something similar tonight. Over these past ten years, there were a lot of little things Ben did/said to me that I should have paid more attention to. For example, at prom he chose to dance with me instead of his date when the first slow song played. Or even last year, at our office Christmas party, when our boss, Clint, told a joke and I laughed, Ben leaned over and whispered in my ear how much he loved my laugh. And even a month ago, when I met him for a drink after he showed a condo to some clients, the moment I walked into the bar, he told me how great my legs looked in my dress.
"Did I tell you about the listing I scored in Lincoln Park?" he asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. He then pulls open the bathroom door and leads us into my bedroom.
I shake my head, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He sits down beside me.
"I snagged Blake Donahue's listing," he smiles. "His clients dropped him and contacted me instead."
I laugh. "No way."
Blake Donahue is Ben's professional real estate rival. It's no secret they dislike each other. Blake wouldn't hesitate to tamper with one of Ben's listings or clients.
"Yeah, way," he says.
"Blake must be so pissed," I laugh.
He grins a little. "I hope so."
"Isn't that listing a million-dollar property?"
Ben nods.
"You always get the best listings."
He pushes my hair over my shoulder as his lips move along my neck, stopping below my ear. "You get great listings, too," he murmurs.
"Not like you," I say. "Everybody wants to hire you."
He tilts my chin and presses his lips to mine, just a slow, lingering touch, and I move toward him, chasing the kiss.
"What's your secret?" I ask.
He smiles. "My perfect jawline, obviously."
I reach around his body, grab a pillow and whack him with it. He laughs and grabs the pillow from me. I watch, barely able to contain myself from throwing myself into his arms, as he places the pillow beside him.
"You're one of the best realtors in Chicago," he says, watching me. "You need to be more confident. You are way too hard on yourself."
I've been selling real estate for three years without earning a top sales award. I am far from being one of the best. Ben is a natural. He has exceeded expectations from the moment he secured his real estate license.
He brushes a thumb over my lip. "You're amazing at your job, Megs," he whispers.
I feel the heat of him, the scent of his shampoo. I close my eyes, feeling dizzy with how his proximity seems to suck all the air from the room. I press my lips to him, our mouths opening and tongues exploring.
We kiss on my bed for what feels like hours. I am lost to Ben and everything in this moment of us tangled together and kissing everywhere. But when a door opens loudly somewhere, I jump, sliding away from him.
"Megan, where are you?" Michelle shouts.
Ben and I exchanged awkward glances. Then, I straighten my shirt, and he runs a hand through his hair, breathing deeply.
Stephanie and Michelle appear one after the other in the bedroom doorway. Neither of them flinches when they see Ben sitting inches from me on my bed.
"Oh, hi, Ben," Stephanie coos, tossing off her heels. She stumbles a bit, and her eyes are glossy. I assume she had too much to drink.
"Hey," he mumbles.
"You missed a delicious dinner," Michelle hiccups. "But I see you found Ben to keep you company." She sits down on her mattress across from mine, unhooking her earrings.
She also must have drunk a little too much, although she appears to be in much better condition than Stephanie.
"What did you two do all night?" Stephanie asks, waving a finger between us.
Ben shrugs. "Nothing much."
"You should have joined us for dinner," she pouts.
"I was too tired from fishing today," he says. "I decided I'd rather see what Megan was doing. I didn't feel like going out."
Stephanie makes a humph sound before sitting beside him on the edge of my bed.
"You missed out on a fun night," she says, running a finger up his bare arm. "We ended up meeting Matthew and Eric at a bar."
Ben clears his throat, brushing away her finger. "How much have you had to drink?"
"She's intoxicated," Michelle laughs.
Stephanie leans over and grabs a bag of chips from the nightstand, ripping it open. "Your boyfriend was at the bar," she says, watching me.
"Boyfriend?"
"Yeah. Steven," she says, biting down on a chip.
"Eric and Stephanie did tequila shots with him all night," Michelle adds.
"He asked us where you were," Stephanie hiccups, laughs, and then hiccups again. "We told him you were too tired and decided to stay in. He said he tried calling our room earlier, but you must have been busy."
I am beginning to feel warm, but I refuse to look at Stephanie. She may be drunk, but she is still overly suspicious, and I don't like her smirking at me.
"I did have a shower," I tell her. "He must have called then. And just to be clear, Steven isn't my boyfriend."
"You should date him, though," Michelle says, smiling. "He's such an awesome guy. And you should have seen Eric dance on stage with Steven and the resort's dancers. It was hilarious."
"Wow. How impressive," Ben said dryly. "Megan should date a drunk dancing idiot."
When Ben says this, I try not to laugh.
"I wish you came," Stephanie leans over and whispers in his ear. She slides a hand over his chest and glances up at him, smiling. I try not to react to this. I remind myself that when Stephanie is drunk, she always likes to flirt with Ben. This is nothing new. Of course, I want to slap her in the face, but I don't.
"I'm glad I stayed in," he glances at me, sharing a secret little smile. "I had a nice time with Megs."
She glares at me. "Aw, how nice to spend time with your friend." Her entire sentence was slurred, but there was no mistaking her emphasis on the word friend. "I guess we all had a great night. Right, Michelle?"
Michelle tosses a pillow at her. "Shut up, Steph."
"I caught Michelle and Matthew having sex in the washroom," she exclaims.
Michelle frowns. "I asked you not to say anything."
God, Stephanie is such a bitch.
"Whatever," she scoffs. "You two aren't fooling anyone."
"I think tequila has ruined your brain. You have no filter," I tell her.
"Oh, Megan," she says, laughing. "If you only knew -"
Ben stands abruptly. "Alright, I'm going to head back to my villa."
"Don't go," Stephanie says, frowning.
"Good night, ladies," he says before glancing at me and saying, " Good night, Megs."
And just like that, he's gone.
_________
The following morning, with a coffee in hand, I walk to the lobby to find myself searching for Jessica. She woke me up this morning with a phone call, inviting me to meet with her and the resort's wedding planner.
I spot her sitting in an overstuffed chaise, scrolling through her phone. She must sense my presence because she glances up, smiling in my direction. "Morning, Megan."
"Hey, Jess."
"I'm so happy you were able to meet me this morning. I need your help."
"For sure. I'm excited to finalize the dinner menu."
She winces. "I only told you the dinner menu so you wouldn't say no."
I frown. "What have I agreed to?"
"We have to finalize a little more than the dinner menu..." she trails off. "But I need your help. This is my wedding, after all. "
"Okay, I'm here to help," I assure her. "Where is the wedding planner?"
I follow her gaze over my shoulder as she waves at a shorter bald man approaching my backside.
"Buenos días, Miss Jessica," he says, kissing her cheek.
"Buenos días, Jose," she smiles. "Megan, this is Jose, my wedding planner. And Jose, this is Megan, my maid-of-honour."
He greets me with a hug. "Nice to meet you, Miss Megan. Now follow me, ladies," he says, waving us down a hallway. "We will meet in my office."
I spent my morning listening to Jose and Jessica over-analyze every detail of the wedding ceremony. We discussed flower arrangements, decorations, and even cake details.
Jose may be more excited about this wedding than Jessica. He provides an itinerary of what his staff will do behind the scenes during the ceremony and reception. He tells us where the photographer is situated and what music the DJ will play during dinner and the evening's dance portion. He even tells us the number of servers waiting at each table and the expected time each dinner course will arrive.
When we start finalizing the dinner menu, that poses another conversation string. At first, Jessica decides she wants fish for the main course but then remembers her Uncle Gary is allergic. She decides on beef tenderloin instead, but Jose convinces her beef isn't a unique choice for a wedding. She hums and haws for what feels like hours between stuffed chicken and veal but eventually decides neither will do.
I try my best to provide her with helpful suggestions. I recommend pork tenderloin or another type of chicken, but Jose immediately shuts down my ideas with a flick of his wrist.
For the next thirty minutes, Jessica and Jose carry on without me. I stare blankly out the window. When I hear Jessica squeal excitedly, I tune in to hear her finalized menu.
"Okay. The main course will be a piece of fillet mignon, a piece of chicken Kiev plus a side of lobster tail," Jessica smiles. "What do you think, Megan?"
This dinner is extravagant and will cost her parents a fortune, but I don't say that. Instead, I say, "I think it sounds delicious."
"But no lobster for Uncle Gary," Jose says, smiling.
"Exactly," Jessica smiles.
We say our goodbyes to Jose and walk outside.
"Are you hungry?" Jessica asks.
"I'm starving," I tell her. Listening to all this food talk has my stomach rumbling.
"Okay, good. Michael and Ben are having lunch together to discuss the bachelor party," she says. "I thought we could join them and discuss your plans for my bachelorette party."
"Yeah, sure," I say, feeling slightly nervous about seeing Ben.
I immediately spot Ben sitting at a table with Michael when we walk into the restaurant. I watch his profile as he talks: his stubbly jaw, his lips curled up in a smile. He finds my eyes, and his face lights up when he sees me. I know mine lights up, too, because I feel myself blushing the longer I stare into his warm brown eyes.
"How'd your meeting go?" Michael asks, standing to greet Jessica. "Amazing," Jessica gushes. "Jose is the best, right, Megan?"
I nod, and Ben gives me a playful look as if he can tell my agreeable response is forced. He pulls out the chair beside him and pats the cushion.
I sit down on the empty seat next to him. While Jessica talks Michael's ear off about wedding details, Ben leans close to whisper in my ear, "You look gorgeous." He glances down at my hand, moving so his fingers can twist with mine. I inhale a sharp breath and look down to see where his hand is sneakily holding mine. I pull away from his touch, blushing.
"Okay," Jessica says, turning her attention to Ben. "I need to know what exactly you have planned for Michael's bachelor party."
"It's pretty straightforward." He smiles, reaching for a tortilla chip. He dips it into a mountain of guacamole, chews, swallows, and then says, "And really, it's none of your business, Jess. This is Michael's bachelor party, not yours."
She glares at him. "You better start spilling details, Romano," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Tell him, Michael."
Jessica means business when she refers to Ben by his last name. He loves to rile her up. Still, he couldn't spare her a little sanity, even during her wedding week. Michael looks at him, his eyes pleading, "Just tell her what you have planned."
Ben laughs. "Fine. But you get Cliff's Notes version." He leans back into his chair, smiling.
"A round of golf, late dinner, drinks at the Sports Bar. Is that okay?" he asks. "Is Michael allowed to attend his bachelor party?"
"Don't be a wise-ass," she says, eyes narrowed.
"You wanted to know," Ben laughs. "I don't understand why you need to micromanage everything. You will drive yourself crazy one day if you don't learn how to relax."
"I'm relaxed," she says.
Ben raises a brow, taking a sip from his beer can. Her nostrils flare in his silence.
"When was the last time you planned a wedding, Ben?" she asks, glaring. Before he can respond, she answers for him: "Oh, right, never. And I'm assuming, by how you burn through a woman like clean underwear, you never will."
I sink lower into my seat, feeling like someone punched me in the stomach. My veins flush hot with adrenaline, embarrassment, and unease. Jessica's words ring in my ears, reminding me that Ben is a player.
"Your turn, Megan," she says, shifting her gaze toward me. "Time to tell me what you have planned for my bachelorette."
"We will spend the day at the spa," I say, shifting in my chair. "After dinner, we will have drinks at the Theatre Bar and watch the entertainment."
Jessica's face remains unreadable as she leans back in her chair, index finger on her lips. Michael is watching her, waiting for her reaction. I hope my plans for her bachelorette are up to her standards.
"Good work, Megan," she says, quickly shifting her gaze to Ben. "And now that I am confident our respective parties will not overlap, I must stress the importance that Michael and I do not, under any circumstances, see each other tomorrow. It's bad luck if we do."
Ben nods. "Noted. And don't worry, Jess, we don't want you around anyway. No one wants the bride punching out the Costa Rican strippers I ordered."
Michael muffles a laugh.
She hesitates, blinking several times before saying, "I wouldn't put it past you to do something as stupid as to order strippers. You better be joking."
"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not," he says, smiling. "I guess you'll never know."
"If I find out there was even one stripper within three feet of Michael, I will rip your beloved balls off."
Laughing, Michael murmurs, "Jess, babe, relax, he's joking."
Ben laughs, and Michael tries to suppress a smile.
When Jessica sees this, she smacks him in the shoulder.
"What?" Michael asks.
Her eyes go wide. "Don't encourage him."
"Don't worry, Jess," I say, grinning wickedly. "Because I ordered some male strippers of our own."
Ben glances at me like he doesn't believe me for a second. "Really?" I watch him smirk, running a hand through his hair.
"Yup," I lie.
Jessica laughs at this.
"You're so full of shit," he says.
"I guess you'll never know."
He takes a long pull from his beer, watching me curiously and thinking, probably worried.
We order from the menu, eat lunch, share a few laughs, and then part ways. Jessica and Michael leave together to spend time with their family at the beach. Ben and I walk out of the restaurant together, standing awkwardly at the exit.
He pulls a stray hair from my cheek. "Meet me at the lobby in twenty minutes."
"Why?"
"Just be there."
"What do you have planned?" I ask, reaching out to place my hand on his forearm. "Where are you taking me?"
"Just change into something a little more comfortable."
"Ben."
"Megan"
"You know I hate surprises."
He glances down at his phone, smiling. "The clock is ticking, Megs. Be waiting at the lobby in twenty minutes. Don't make me come and find you."
He kisses the top of my head and then turns in the opposite direction, leaving me both confused and excited.
After I change into athletic shorts and a tank top, I head down to the lobby to meet Ben. The lobby is empty when I arrive, so I find an empty chair and wait for him to appear. A few minutes later, Ben stands before me with his lips curled into a smile.
"Where were you?" I ask.
"Getting these," he says, dangling keys in front of my face. "We are taking a little drive."
"Off the resort?" I ask, voice tight. "Without a tour guide?"
Ben laughs. "Don't you trust me?"
I press my hands to my hips, feeling uncertain and nervous, and, God, he's asking me so much more than whether I trust him to leave the resort right now. Before the coin toss, I wouldn't have thought twice about going with him. Why am I suddenly questioning his intentions?
"Just tell me where we are going."
"No. It's a surprise," he says, turning away from me. "Come on, Megs. Let's go."
We've been driving for almost an hour and singing along to every song on the radio. He's let his eyes dart my way several times, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. What Ben and I have has always been so much more than sex. He's my best friend, the only person in the entire world I would want to spend every waking moment with.
When he pulls into Marino Baulas National Park, he gives me a playful, giddy look as if he's about to explode. He then turns off the engine with the keys perched in the ignition, saying, "Get ready to be amazed, Megs. You're going to love this."
I step out of the car, inhaling salty ocean air. An infinite blue sky stretches across a never-ending ocean. Lush greenery mixed with bright tropical flowers situated along miles and miles of white sandy beach takes my breath away. The wind catches my hair as I hear waves crashing against the beach and feel the gritty sand between my toes.
"What is this place?" I ask.
Ben smiles, reaching for my hand and squeezes it. "This is the largest nesting colony of leatherback turtles in the Pacific Ocean."
His eyes seemed to gleam with victory at my reaction – my hands pressed against my mouth, eyes wide and teary – and very carefully, he took a step closer and placed his hands on either side of my face.
I love turtles. They are my favourite. Ben knows this. He also knows I had a pet turtle, Jinxy, as a kid that I loved with all my heart.
I glance up at Ben, feeling so grateful he brought me here. This is a dream come true and the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.
"Tell me you are excited," he says.
"Ben, this is amazing," I say through heavy breaths, reaching to kiss him. "How did you know about the beach?"
"I have my ways," he says, pulling me against his chest so that I press against him. We share a soft, gentle kiss.
"I'm just so overwhelmed," I admit quietly.
Overwhelmed with feelings for you.
"I hired a resort staff member to come here this morning and mark nesting holes," he says, smiling down at me. "Come on, and I'll show you."
Sure enough, we discovered a marked hole in the sand filled with golf-ball-sized turtle eggs. This completely takes me aback. The more we search, the more nests we find. We stumble upon a nest of baby turtles breaking out of their shells.
"Ben, look," I say, witnessing baby turtles squirm by my feet.
We watch as the hatchlings scamper to begin their mad scramble towards the ocean. Everything about this moment feels surreal, even the feel of Ben's hand in mine as we stand side by side on the beach. He snaps a few photos with his phone while I try not to squeal as a baby turtle crawls over my toes, taking its first precious steps in life.
When he smiles down at me, I see a glimmer in his eyes I've never seen before. He looks a little emotional, maybe even overcome, at this moment. Reaching forward, he tugs me into his chest, pulls out his phone, and holds it out in front of us.
"Smile, Megs," he says, snapping a picture of us.
He checks the picture and then flashes me the photo. My heart swells at the sight of how perfect we look together. We were smiling, his arm under my chin, holding me close. In the background, the sun is fading into the horizon, emitting a soft, warm glow. My eyes scan over the image of my face again in the photo. It's as if I'm seeing myself for the first time.
That girl looks like she's in love.