Just Friends With Benefits Read online

  After his performance, Paul put his baseball cap back on and resumed drinking his beer. “So, what did you think?”

  I clapped and Paul took a bow. “Amazing,” I said. “When are you going on tour?”

  Paul removed his cap again and bowed his head at me. “Any day now, pretty lady. Any day now. Wanna be a groupie?”

  “Perhaps,” I said giggling.

  I briefly forgot Hille was standing there until he said, “I think I’m gonna get out of here.”

  I wanted to say, “Don’t go” but figured that would be a bit much since I’d just met him. So I said, “Really? It’s still early.”

  Paul slapped Hille on the back and said, “The guy’s a nerd. Probably going home to study. Gotta maintain that 4.0 GPA.”

  “4.0, huh? I’m impressed,” I said.

  Turning red, Hille said, “Paul here exaggerates. Not going home to study. Just kind of beat, that’s all. Nice meeting you, Stephanie. See you in class.”

  “Bye, Craig. I mean Hille!”

  I watched him walk toward the exit, stopping momentarily to put his empty beer glass on the bar. Realizing my mission was unsuccessful and I had just about enough money to grab a slice of pizza on the way back to the dorm, I turned to Paul and said, “Well, I think I’m gonna head out, too. As soon as I find my roommate.”

  “Nah! Let me buy you another beer,” Paul said. “Maybe I’ll even sing for you again.”

  I pulled on my ponytail as if I thought it might have gone somewhere and locked eyes with Paul. Not waiting for an answer, he re-filled my beer glass and winked at me.

  As “Sweet Caroline” played in the background and hordes of my peers chanted, “Good times never seemed so good. So good! So good!” I decided Paul’s grayish-green eyes were kind of pretty, shrugged my shoulders and said, “What the hell.”

  One

  November, 2009

  After the waitress uncorked the two bottles of wine we had ordered to celebrate Hope’s 25th birthday, one red and one white, we chanted in chorus “Speech! Speech! Speech!”

  The pale skin beneath her freckled face, already flush from the bottle of wine we shared at Eric and Jess’s house, turned a deeper shade of red as Hope stood up to make her toast.

  “Okay, okay. Simmer down, people!” Hope waited for us to stop chanting. We were all buzzed so it took a while but eventually we stopped pounding our fists against the table, put down our utensils and let Hope speak.

  “I want to thank you all for joining me at my birthday celebration.” Turning to her sister, she said, “Although Jess, as my closest blood relative, you’re kind of obligated. And Eric, as Jess’s husband, you didn’t really have a choice, either. And Paul, well if you want to get laid later, you had to be here, too. So, I’d just like to thank Stephanie for taking the train from D.C. to Philly to celebrate with me. Mwah! And, Hille, it was really cool of you to drive here from New Jersey. You guys rock. Happy birthday to me!” Hope took a sip of her wine and sat down.

  Standing up with his glass raised, Paul said, “Well, that speech really sucked, but since you’re practically ten years younger than the rest of us, we’ll let it slide.”

  “Ahem! I’m only seven years older than her, not ten!” I said.

  Dismissing me, Paul said, “Same thing, Cohen.”

  I looked at Hille, who was sitting across from me and rolled my eyes. He smiled and gave me a knowing glance.

  I smiled back thinking Hille was even cuter now than he was back in college. He was practically the only brother from his fraternity who didn’t have a receding hairline and, unlike Paul, the years of drinking beer hadn’t reached his gut.

  “Are you listening to me, Cohen? I’m trying to make a toast here and you’re all glassy-eyed like you just smoked up.”

  “Maybe I have. Jealous much?” I asked.

  His eyes wide with interest, Paul said, “Really?”

  “No. Not really. Resume your toast. I promise to listen.”

  Paul sat down. “Fuck it, I forgot what I was gonna say. Happy birthday to Hope.”

  Hope reached over and gave Paul a peck on the lips which quickly morphed into a bona-fide smooch-fest. I turned my attention towards Jess, but she had moved from her own seat onto Eric’s lap and was whispering in his ear.

  I took another sip of wine, hoping to drown out the reminder that I was not just the oldest female in the group, but also the only single one.

  About 45 minutes later, I looked down at my plate, empty except for some blood that had leaked out of my skirt steak and a mouthful of roasted potatoes. I either had room to finish the potatoes or drink another glass of wine and I chose the wine. Noticing that the seat next to mine was empty, I asked, “Where’d Eric go?”

  Hille said, “To the bathroom.” Then he quickly glanced from Hope, who was deep in conversation with Jess, to me and winked.

  “Oh, thanks,” I said, feeling my face flush in response to his wink. “If you gotta go, you gotta go, right?”

  When Hille responded with a flat, “Yeah, I guess,” I wished I had said something else. I was usually much better with the witty banter.

  Eric returned to the table and in a soft voice said, “We’re all good.”

  I whispered, “That was too generous of you. Let me give you some money.”

  Looking at me with a confused expression, Eric whispered back, “What are you talking about? I just told the waitress it was Hope’s birthday and she’s bringing out a piece of cake.”

  Feeling stupid and a little disappointed, I said, “Oh, I thought you settled the bill.”

  Eric laughed. “I love you, Cohen, but not that much.”

  Jabbing him playfully in the arm, I said, “What are you good for, Eric? You don’t sleep with me and you don’t pay my bills.”

  Pointing at Jess across the table, Eric said, “I can only handle one wife at a time.”

  Overhearing, Jess said, “I’m okay with sharing. But only if you share ‘The Librarian.’”

  “If you met ‘The Librarian,’ I bet you’d change your mind about that. And besides, we’re not dating anymore,” I said.

  Frowning, Hope asked, “What happened?”

  “I couldn’t take him anymore. He was just beyond dorky.”

  “I thought that’s why you liked him,” Jess said. “Didn’t you say his quirkiness was what you found most appealing?”

  Before I could defend my decision by telling Jess how The Librarian’s recent habit of addressing me by such endearing nicknames as ‘dear’ and ‘honey’ after only four dates felt insincere and gave me the hebeegeebees, Eric said, “Why do all of your boyfriends have nicknames, Cohen? The Librarian? Didn’t you date ‘The Mayor’ last? What was Paul’s nickname back in college?”

  Interjecting, Paul said, “‘The Horse,’ for obvious reasons. And, not for nothing, but you can’t exactly refer to these guys as Cohen’s ‘boyfriends’ since her longest relationship since me was, what, three months?”

  Reddening, I said, “Three and a half. And thanks for rubbing it in.” As if I wasn’t already excruciatingly aware that I was seemingly incapable of maintaining interest in a guy or maintaining his interest in me for longer than fourteen weeks.

  Saving me from further playful, yet painful, ridicule at the hands of my best friends, our waitress and three other waiters approached our table. Our waitress was holding a plate with a piece of chocolate cake with a lit candle on top and she looked uncertainly from me, to Jess to Hope.

  Pointing at Hope, Paul said, “She’s the one.”

  The waitress let out a nervous laugh, said, “Thanks” and placed the plate in front of Hope’s seat. Then she looked at the other waiters, whispered, “One, two, three” and started singing an off-key version of “Happy Birthday to You” while we all joined in.

  I scanned the crowded restaurant. Most of the other patrons had paused their own conversations to watch our spectacle. The waiters didn’t wear red and white striped uniforms with suspenders and I had a feeling
performances of this nature were not typical. While Hope buried her face in her hands and slunk further down in her seat, I watched Paul hand our waitress a bill. I couldn’t see how much, but guessed it was a Benjamin Franklin.

  After Hope recovered, she blew out her candle and made a wish while the waitress took the rest of our dessert orders. I didn’t order anything, but took a bite of Hope’s chocolate cake, justifying that failure to do so would bring Hope bad luck.

  “So, Stephanie,” Hille said from across the table. “When are you coming to New York for work again?”

  I hadn’t been asked to assist with a closing in my law firm’s New York office in over a year but remembered the last time and how I’d met Hille for breakfast before I went back to D.C. “Not sure, actually. But if do, I’ll totally look you up again. We’ll do dinner, though… breakfast is boring.” Silently cursing my tendency to lose all sense of coolness in Hille’s presence, I looked down at my black suede boots under the table and added, “Not that our breakfast was boring, of course!”

  Flashing me that sexy wink again, Hille laughed and said, “Dinner it is. And, yes, you’d better look me up, kid!”

  Two

  Back at Eric and Jess’s house later that night, I helped Jess finish off another bottle of wine.

  Her yellow pant pajamas matching the kitchen chairs she had insisted on buying to add a more country-flair to the kitchen, Jess said, “Paul lost some weight since the last time I saw him, although he’s still got that beer gut.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think that gut is leaving anytime soon. But maybe Hope will get him into shape. What is she, a size two”? I asked.

  Jess shook her head of shoulder length red curls in annoyance and said, “Don’t remind me. I’m on a permanent diet, yet my little sister gives up soda for a month and turns into a twig.”

  “She’s one lucky chick,” I agreed.

  “Don’t even start with me, Miss Size Four.”

  Eric, who had been outside smoking a cigarette, returned to the kitchen, straddled a chair backwards, reminding me of Raj from “What’s Happening,” and said, “Not interested in this topic of conversation. What I want to know is when Andy’s gonna dump Rachel’s ass. I just got off the phone with him. His testicles will be the size of Raisinettes if they last another year.”

  I poured myself another glass of Fat Bastard Shiraz, a gift from Paul, and asked, “And how is that exactly, Raj?”

  “She confiscated his porn collection again, Re-run.”

  “And we all know how Andy loves his porn,” Jess said.

  Eric nodded and said, “Frankly, if he wants to jerk off to porn, why should she care as long as he still screws her”?

  I slammed my hands on the faded wood table dramatically and said, “See? That’s why I’m so happy to be single. A boyfriend would only get in the way of my porn addiction.”

  Eric clinked his wine glass against mine and said, “Amen to that.”

  “So, where is Hille staying tonight?” I asked.

  “At Hope’s apartment with Paul. They’re both going home tomorrow. Why?” Eric asked.

  “No reason. Just curious, since I figured he wouldn’t want to drive back to Jersey so late.”

  Now standing behind Eric, massaging his back, Jess kissed the top of his blonde head and asked, “Are we having breakfast with them tomorrow?”

  “Yes and no,” Eric said. “Paul and Hope, yes. Hille no.”

  “Why isn’t Hille coming?” I asked. I’d never formally said goodbye to him the night before under the assumption that I’d see him again.

  “He’s gotta get back early,” Eric said.

  “Why?” I asked. “Is he dating someone?”

  “I don’t think so, but what does that have to do with anything, Steph? I think he has some work meeting on Monday morning and wants to be home early to prepare.”

  “Oh. So just Paul and Hope will be here for breakfast?”

  Eric narrowed his brown eyes at me and said, “That’s what I said, Steph. I think you’re cut off.”

  I took my last sip of wine and got up from the table. Yawning, I said, “I was just finished anyway.” I kissed them both on the cheek and said, “Going to bed. Night guys.”

  In unison, Jess and Eric replied, “Good night.”

  Under the covers in Jess and Eric’s guest bedroom, I wondered if people at the restaurant had assumed that Eric, Jess, Hope, Paul, Hille and I were on a triple-date. Although Hille and I didn’t kiss or even sit next to each other at the table, he was sort of my date for the evening by process of elimination.

  I wondered if Hille was a good kisser. I pictured him with his shirt off. Then I pictured me taking his shirt off. I bet he had hair on his chest but not too much, and I knew he worked out so he probably didn’t have man boobs. Bigger boobs than mine was a definite deal breaker. He was so sexy when he winked at me. There had to be some reason neither of us had found ‘the one’ yet.

  As I drifted off to sleep, I replayed the events of that long ago night at the Longpost Tavern and imagined what the last 13 years would have been like if Paul was the one to go home early and not Hille.

  Three

  On the train from Philadelphia back to D.C. the next day, I tuned out the little boy sitting behind me who kept kicking the back of my seat, and felt guilty for fantasizing about a past that didn’t include my two year relationship with Paul. But I still wondered if Hille and I would’ve made a better couple. If we’d hooked up in college, would we still be together now or would we just be best friends, like Paul and me? Or would I hate him for cheating on me with some slut with bigger tits? Or would he hate me for getting between him and his 4.0 GPA?

  Then I thought about the time Paul gave me a Charles Chips tin full of green M&Ms for my birthday. And I recalled how he waited over two months to have sex with me and barely pressured me at all. And I remembered all the hours we spent playing dirty Mad Libs. We had so much fun together and I really had no regrets.

  And if I had dated Hille, who was vehemently opposed to any vice which could lead to a black mark on his spotless record, I probably would never have smoked pot back in college. And since I did my best bonding with Eric playing ‘Risk’ and smoking out of Paul’s three-foot glass bong, dating Hille instead of Paul back in college might have meant I wouldn’t be best friends with Eric now.

  No, dating Paul back in college, and not Hille, was definitely the way it was meant to happen.

  But that was then and even though I hadn’t given it much thought in over a decade, I could definitely see myself with Hille now.

  With my bag in tow, I exited the train and down the escalators. As I waited on the long but fast-moving line for a cab back to my studio apartment in Capitol Hill, my mind continued to wander to thoughts of Hille.

  ~ * ~

  I was still thinking about Hille when I went to bed that night. Cold, I jumped out of bed and threw a hoodie over my t-shirt. Within minutes, my arms screamed for fresh air and I sat up, removed the hoodie and placed it on the foot of my queen-sized bed for easy access. I always had trouble falling asleep on Sunday nights and my vacillating body temperature was not helping. When I couldn’t sleep, fleeting thoughts like whether I’d make it to the gym the next morning, how many emails I’d find when I got to work and what I’d eat for lunch morphed into dire concerns which, that night, included whether Hille liked me and when I would see him again.

  It hadn’t occurred to me since freshman year that Hille might like me. We’d hung out many times since college and he’d never once made a move. But then again, I never saw him wink at anyone except me. Maybe he was flirting. And he did ask when I was coming to New York again. He didn’t ask all of us when we were going to visit his new apartment, he just asked when I’d be there for another closing. Maybe he wanted to hang out with me alone.

  I wanted to hang out with him alone, too, but as far as I knew, my boss had no plans to send me to New York anytime soon. Maybe if I asked him, he’d let me go. I cou
ldn’t tell him I wanted to go because I liked a guy there, but I had an idea.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get to work. I looked at the clock radio on my night table. I wished it was time to wake up already but the bright green numbers on the display reflected that it was only 12:17. I turned over on my side and tried to relax. I couldn’t, so I put on the free sleep mask I got when I flew to Prague with my friend Suzanne and hoped it would release the pressure under my eyes. I probably looked like the lone ranger but since I was alone, I didn’t care. I still couldn’t fall asleep, removed the mask and looked at the clock again. It was 12:26. I thought about what I would wear if I met Hille in New York for dinner. Would he believe I was coincidentally sent to New York so quickly after he mentioned it? He was a guy and probably wouldn’t give it a second thought. Sometimes I wished I was a guy so I wouldn’t think so much. Guys cared about three things: food, sports and sex. I wished I had a penis, a big penis, of course. And balls I could adjust while sitting on my couch with a beer watching baseball.