Page 71 of Friends with Benefits

‘Ah, come on, it’s obvious. It’s been in the cards since you fell for her cakes. And I mean cakes; that wasn’t some kind of reference to soggy bottoms or cream centers.’

‘What goes on in your head?’ Drew asks. ‘Yes, all right. I’m proposing to Becky this week. And, if it’s not too much trouble, could you all be around and not ‘cause any bloody beach fights at the party I have planned tomorrow night?’

‘Party?’ I ask. ‘You assume she’ll say yes, huh?’

I get dunked this time, Drew pushing his entire body weight on my shoulders. I wrestle my way back up and dunk him in return.

‘I have a party planned on the assumption she’ll say yes but that’s why I haven’t told you about it. It’s nothing over the top; Becky would hate that. I’ve just got caterers coming in to make sure she can relax. And I had to forewarn Mom and Millie. Can you imagine if I didn’t let Mom in on the secret and she found out I’d celebrated with you bunch of jackasses?’

I whistle. ‘Ohhhh, you’d have been in hell.’

‘Seriously though, Drew,’ Brooks says. ‘It’s Friday, buddy. Time is running out.’

‘I know. Tonight is the night. If slippery tongue can keep his mouth shut for a few hours, we should be all good.’

‘Slippery tongue?’ Kit asks. ‘Is that supposed to be me? Man, name one secret I’ve ever shared of yours.’

‘Let me see… when I had a crush on Lana Jonson in sophomore year? When I stole the cheer squad’s pom-poms with the rest of the football team? When I bet you Marty would lose his first case in court? When…’

‘All right, I get it. I can’t hold my water. I guess you’d better get a move on in that case.’ Kit winks and Brooks and I laugh, more at the fear that takes over Drew’s face than Kit’s words.

‘Just don’t put the ring in a glass of champagne or something,’ I say, as we walk out of the water. ‘I’ve heard stories of people choking and having to get the diamond flushed out of them in the ER.’

‘Yeah, I wouldn’t go for putting it in a cake either,’ Brooks says. ‘Becky would kick your ass if you ruined a good cake.’

‘Plus, she might crack a tooth or something on the size of the rock I imagine you’ve got for her,’ Kit adds.

‘Thanks, guys. Like I wasn’t nervous enough. I feel like I’m about to pitch my first little league game and the rest of the team is ten years older than me.’

‘While I appreciate the sentiment, that makes no sense,’ I tell him.

‘Damn it, sometimes I wish I hadn’t put you through college and given you a brain. There was a time you would hang on every word I said.’

* * *

By noon, there’s still no word from Jess. I shoot her another text message as we all sit around the pool. The others are starting their first round of margaritas.

At least let me know you are safe.

Dots appear across the screen as if she’s typing. Then they disappear. I sit up, straddling the lounger, hopeful. The dots come again and disappear again. All the while, I gawp at my cell. They come again, then…

I’m safe.

‘I’m safe? That’s it!?’

I growl and flop back on the sunbed, turning up the music in my ears to drown out the chatter of the others and pulling my cap over my face, half because I’m frustrated and hurt and so enraged with myself for being such an idiot, I could cry. Half because I want to be alone, in darkness, where I can think.

Is that what you’re doing, Jess? Do you just need time to think?

Argh, thinking is dangerous! What if she doesn’t want anything more than to be my friend? How could we possibly go back? God knows I would if that’s what it takes for me to keep her. But can I pretend I don’t have feelings for her when what I do feel is tearing me apart? What if she’s thinking she’ll move on, run to another city or country, or the other side of the world, like she’s done so many times before? The thought is like taking a round from an AK-47 to my torso; it hurts going in, it blows me apart as it comes out.

Bright light pierces my eyelids as cap is pulled from my face and my earbuds yanked out of my ears. Sarah is wrapped in a towel and sits down on my lounger, tapping my legs to tell me to move them aside.

‘I love how dramatic you boys are. Do you know that? It keeps things interesting, having to fix your love lives for you. It makes me feel like I live in a movie or something. Of course, I’d be as fabulous as Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe. Audrey is more me, I think, with the brown hair. And those gorgeous pearls.’

‘I’ve no doubt you would be more fabulous than Audrey, Sarah, but now who’s being dramatic?’

‘Oh, right, ha. I do have a point I want to make.’

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