Mechanic with Benefits

by Mickey Miller

  She released me and I did the same, slowly. She stared up at me, flashing her gorgeous brown eyes. She looked different. Still young—what was she, twenty-five now?—but more womanly. Her short body was curvier than it used to be. Her hair fell down around her shoulders. It took everything in my power to dissuade my cock from getting an insta boner right then and there. I smiled a little, patiently awaiting her answer. She looked as though she was thinking extremely hard, searching for some elusive answer.

  Finally, she spoke. “Chandler, I swear, I’m not as say as they drunk I am,” she slurred. She paused, looking away for a moment. “Wait. I don’t think that right came out.”

  I let out a hearty laugh and glanced at the stewardess that had been in first class. The other two quickly got the hint to go back to their duties and split. The serious stewardess had an eyebrow arched toward me, patiently watching our interaction. “Should I leave you two alone?” she asked.

  “We’ll take two waters,” I said, holding up two fingers.

  The attendant reached into the cart and handed me two bottles, but refused to take the money I held out.

  “Thank you sir. On the house,” she said, still looking grateful that I had calmed Amy down and had taken this problem off her plate.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” I said before I had turned fully around. “I need a vodka and lemon.”

  She sighed. “Is this for that…woman in first class?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who are you getting a drink for?” Amy asked, suddenly very curious.

  “Just this girl…”

  “Dammit, Chandler, are you seducing women again?”

  I laughed. “Maybe,” I hedged.

  Amy punched me playfully in the arm.

  “Ow!” I feigned like she had hurt me.

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Although it had been years since we’d last seen each other, she still recalled my playboy ways. In fact, she knew them better than anyone.

  “Aww, did I hurt you? Do you want me to kiss your arm?” she asked, sarcastically but rubbed my upper arm soothingly where she had punched it.

  I laughed and rolled my eyes. Taking the drink from the stewardess, I guided Amy to the front of the plane to join me in first class. When we arrived, Renee smiled at seeing the drink in my hand. Her smile, however, turned instantly upside down when she saw I had brought another girl back.

  “Hi! I’m Amy,” Amy said, and stuck out her hand for a shake. Renee reluctantly took it.

  “I’m Renee,” she said, coldly.

  “Nice to meet you Renee.” Amy’s tone was bubbly.

  Amy looked at me. Then at Renee. And then me again. “Ohhhhh,” she said. “Your friend, I assume?” She leaned into my ear and whispered. “Is this one of your muchas chicas?”

  “We just met, actually,” I said, lamely. Amy gave me a look, half smirking and half disbelieving. I was about to ask Renee to politely leave, but Amy jumped right in.

  “Hey,” she said, turned towards Renee. “So I know you probably thought you were going to hook up with my friend Chandler here. Or at least get his number for when we touch down in Barcelona. And I wouldn’t say I blame you. But we are old friends who are coincidentally on this flight, and we have some catching up to do. So I’m gonna have to ask you for that seat. Thanks for understanding.”

  I thought about jumping in, but Drunk Amy had summed up everything pretty succinctly. I nodded, nothing more to add.

  She looked so offended that all she could do was glare at me in a huff but she got up from her seat and stomped back to hers.

  “Sorry,” Amy called out. “You still want his number?”

  Renee looked over at us and gave Amy an icy look of death.

  Amy shrugged and took the window seat. I slid in next to her.

  “You pissed I cockblocked you?” she asked, tilting her head at me but still smirking.

  “If it were anyone else, I might be,” I admitted, chuckling a little. I’d forgotten how blunt and brazen she could be in her speech. I kind of missed that. “But I can’t stay mad at you. Drunk Amy is the cutest cockblock ever.”

  She sighed and gazed out the window into the nothingness. “This is so crazy. I can’t believe I ran into you here, of all places.”

  “Well, I live in Barcelona now,” I returned. “So it’s not that crazy.”

  Her eyes rounded. “Really?”

  I nodded and sighed. Amy was quite drunk if I was having to repeat myself. “I play for Spain’s basketball team in the Euroleague. Going on four years now…”

  “Wow,” she breathed, blinking up at me. “I’m impressed. I never got to watch you when we were in Spain.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “You any good these days?”

  I laughed out loud at her teasing tone. “I do all right,” I said, then turned the topic back to her. “So. What are you doing here?”

  She glanced back at me, and I thought I saw her eyes tear up. The only time I’d ever seen Amy near tears was the night of Becca’s b-day bash, and, in essence, when we drifted apart. “I was supposed to go to Barcelona for a trip with my boyfriend David. I was going to show him all of the cool places we used to go when we studied abroad.”

  Boyfriend. Of course Amy would have a boyfriend but it was like a slight gut-check. “And then what happened to this David guy?” I prompted, when she didn’t resume.

  Amy had always been upbeat around me—when we were on friendlier terms, of course. There were very few times when I saw her get sad like she was right now. She’d always had the kind of peppy personality—at least, what I knew of her back then—that made me think if she was sad, something was really wrong with the world.

  Instinctively, seeing her on the brink of crying actually made me a little sad, too. I reached for her hand and held it, lacing our fingers together.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them after taking a deep breath. “What was I saying?”

  “You were talking about David. Trip to Barcelona. What happened?” I gave her hand a squeeze. She squeezed back, which made me smile.

  “Oh right. Sorry…” She blinked a few times, eyes darting to our joined hands. “Well, I was thinking that David was ‘the one’,” she said, her expression grim and unhappy. “So I bought us tickets to Barcelona for our six month anniversary. I even left work early to surprise him at his apartment. And then I walked in on him fucking his forty-year-old manager from the bar where he works in downtown Chicago.”

  My anger, on her behalf, was immediate. “What the fuck?! What an asshole!”

  “It’s okay.” The tears were gone, and now she was just fiery-eyed and pissed. “I’m glad I found out now as opposed to ten years from now. But I wasn’t about to let my ticket to Barcelona go to waste.”

  Now there was the Amy I remembered. “And now you’re here getting drunk on a plane…” I let the corners of my mouth slide up in a tiny smile.

  “Yep. My life is pretty much a Dierks Bentley song right now. I’ve got this 737 rocking like a G-6.” She laughed but disengaged her hand from my hold, running her hand through her hair. I instantly missed the feel of her skin against mine.

  And fuck, that hair. She smelled so good. Just as good as she did years ago. Better.

  She slanted me a look. “I forgot how funny you are. But seriously, you have no idea how good it feels to just say this stuff. To someone who cares. And listens. I’ve always liked that about you.”

  I laughed at how crazy this was, this random chance encounter five years later. If I hadn’t boarded last, I would have likely seen her at O’Hare in the waiting area. The possibility of missing her when we landed in Barcelona was fifty-fifty in the baggage claim, so thank god for Renee and her need of vodka tonic with lemon. “Can I record you saying that so I can play it back to…oh I don’t know…every girl I’ve ever dated?” I teased.

  “Shut up.” She punched my arm playfully again. “You’re a good guy. Even if you can’t hold down a girlfriend for more than a few we
eks.”

  She was right about one thing: after all this time, I still did care. About her, a lot. More then I thought I would have with five years between us. The pain of how we drifted had always haunted me. But sitting here, with her next to me, the connection and chemistry we’d had from the beginning was still there, so visceral, it nearly knocked the wind out of me. I took a moment, and stared at this face I’ve missed and inventoried the changes.

  She eyed me back. “What are you staring at?” she asked, a little shyly.

  “Just that you’re as gorgeous as I remembered you,” I stated, simply. Truthfully. For all my propensity for bullshitting, when it came to Amy, I just couldn’t.

  She looked away, blushing and licking her lips. She could deny it, like she tried to do five years ago, but I knew she felt it too. This tension between us. “And, I, um…I…” she said, stumbling over her words. “I bet all your ten-night stand—”

  “Ten-night stands?” I interrupted, giving her look. I groaned. “Seriously?”

  She laughed. “Yeah. You’re not a one-night stand guy. But you’re not a relationship guy either. You do ten-night stands then move onto some other girl.” She poked me in the chest. “Come on. Like your lady friend when I first got to Barcelona in Doña María’s house.”

  I thought about it for a second. Drunk Amy was Honest Amy, and she knew my habits pretty well. “Sounds about right,” I admitted. I guess I hadn’t changed that much in five years.

  “I’m glad you agree. I think I’m going to end on that tidbit of wisdom,” she said, yawning. “I forgot that one drink at this altitude is worth three on the ground, and I had at least two. Thank god I’m not on my meds right now.”

  I nodded, thinking meds, high altitude and alcohol would be a rather dangerous concoction. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

  “You don’t sleep on planes?” she asked, instead, clearing her throat and looking away. In other words, ignoring my invitation.

  “Nope. Never have been able to.”

  She gave me a cute, sleepy-eyed look and started to get up. “I’d better get back to my seat—”

  “No,” I said quickly, about to block her from exiting. I had to force myself to relax and not get aggressive and scare her back to her seat.

  “What?” she asked, a little startled but not trying to leave me.

  “Stay?” I posed, more serious than I’d intended. “And we can finally have that one-night stand I’ve been wanting.” My smirk returned.

  It sounded like a tease but I wasn’t teasing. She knew it too because she stared at me for the longest time before finally speaking. “I don’t think I’m allowed to be up here since I don’t have a ticket,” she finally said softly.

  Like when we’d been in Barcelona in college, the smallest change in her was so obvious to me. I liked being able to spot these nuances in her expressions and moods like no time had passed at all. There was no awkwardness or unease—just familiarity, and a hunger to be near her again.

  “I think the stewardess still owes me for helping her out with you.”

  She made a face at me that had me grinning. “All right,” she said, relenting and settling back down.

  I watched, amused, as she tried to get comfortable for a full minute against the window without success. Apparently, she wasn’t into leaning her seat back to sleep, like most of the passengers were doing. The seats were comfy and plush but I had a feeling she liked something more…comfortable.

  She finally looked at me, and I was waiting for it. “You okay?” I asked.

  She gave me a sheepish smile. “Hey, you don’t mind if I rest against your shoulder? My pillow’s all the way back in coach and you’ll do just fine, I think.”

  “You sure know how to friendzone a guy,” I joked.

  She grinned then fought back another yawn. “Sorry for cockblocking you. I won’t do it again.”

  She snuggled into me. I loved the way her tiny head and soft hair felt against my shoulder. “It’s okay. You can cockblock me all you want.”

  “I’ve missed you Chandler,” she murmured, probably already drifting into dreamland.

  “Goodnight, Squirt,” I said, watching her for a few seconds.

  Without opening her eyes, she wrinkled her nose. But in a few minutes, she was fast asleep.

  It was like no time had lapsed. We were picking up right where we’d left off five years ago. The old feelings and memories battled within me, all the highs, and lows, too. Me thinking we were getting emotionally closer, and then her cutting me off.

  After I’d left Spain and returned back to North Carolina, I’d just tried focusing on basketball and graduating. Forgetting about Amy as best as I could even though she’d gotten under my skin and the ghost of her had always been there, with me.

  The way we’d said goodbye had always confused me. Her reasons for instilling the pact had never made sense to me but I knew it had been her way of protecting herself—from me. I had realized that back then but had ignored it. It was later on that I fully realized her hot-cold towards the end of our program. I didn’t like that she felt I would have hurt her on purpose, even though now I realize that it was a likely outcome. That old Chandler wasn’t any different than this Chandler. There was no controlling another’s hurt but Amy had decided she wouldn’t risk it. And I couldn’t really fault her for that.

  Life had continued, and I never heard from her. There had been many times I could have reached out and connected but it almost seemed like it wasn’t meant to be even though it had felt so right. And, as I had seen, it’d seemed like she’d moved on as well. For all I knew, I was a bad memory, or no memory at all.

  So I focused on my life, and moving on, too. My old buddy, Tony Le Ral, had convinced me to opt out of the Draft to join the Euroleague after school. I had only marginal interest from the NBA but I was getting some lucrative offers from the European sector. While I was very good at the game and my stats were in the top tier, my height had always limited me. And you had to be cream of the crop to even have a chance in the U.S. as a professional player. So I played in Europe, became a local star and got paid decently. The third choice seemed like as good an idea as any other. And, at the time, the idea of being in a different continent from Amy was the most appealing thing ever, like the distance would scrub her from memory. It was also a good way to keep my life uncomplicated, in general—just basketball, having fun, and women but none of them like Amy.

  I pulled out my book and started reading again. I noticed Renee in the front trying to get comfortable. I didn’t care that Amy had cockblocked me.

  Besides, this was the cutest cockblock ever. She was like a little koala bear snuggled up next to me.

  I had to chuckle myself as her breathing slowed and she slept on my shoulder. No one knew how to friend zone me besides Amy. And she did a damn good job of it.

  I didn’t sleep the whole night, as was per the norm for me on flights. Mostly, I just thought a lot and enjoyed the feeling of Amy’s peaceful body next to mine. The hours passed quickly. I loved watching the sun rise on the plane. I leaned across Amy as she slept so I could see the beautiful combination of oranges, reds, and purples that filled the sky as the sun crept out over the horizon.

  The flight attendants coming down the aisle with the coffee cart signaled it was time for breakfast.

  “I’ll take two coffees,” I said, when she arrived to Amy and me. The attendant poured two cups and handed us some cream and sugar packets, which I put on the tray table in front of me.

  “Mmmmm,” Amy moaned as she nuzzled her head into my shoulder. “I smell coffee.”

  “Finally coming to life, I see.” After a long night of not sleeping, my voice came out deep and extra scratchy.

  Amy opened her eyes and darted them from me to the coffee before she stared at me in disbelief. “Chandler? What the hell? How did I get here?”

  I laughed from my belly. “Jesus. You were that blasted last night? Here, this is for your hangover.” />
  I handed her the warm paper cup of coffee, which she gratefully took in her hands, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it down.

  “Wait, let me think,” she said, looking off and her expression extra thoughtful. “I remember I had a Gin and Tonic. And then that made me even more sad about David. So then I had another one. And then I got sad about my life in general and that Gin and Tonics were the only things I had left to make me happy. Which, ironically, drove me to have another Gin and Tonic. And then, apparently, I ran into you?”

  I laughed out loud. “So you don’t remember anything?”

  Amy continued. “No! I don’t. Oww.” She winced, using one hand to massage her forehead. “My head hurts. I don’t even know what I’m saying right now. I’m still drunk.” She took a sip of her coffee. “But damn, I am really glad I randomly ran into you, bestie.”

  I sighed. There she was again, putting me right square in the friend zone. For all my charm, why was she the one girl who had managed to keep me at a distance, and never close? Of all of the women I’d been with over the past years, there was only one who I still hadn’t totally figured out.

  “Chandler, my head hurts. Can you hold it?”

  She looked up at me with pouty lips and puppy dog eyes. If there was a man in the world who could say no when big brown eyes like that looked up at him with a semi-sad expression, I’d like to meet him.

  “Of course.” I wrapped my hands around her head where she said it hurt.

  “That’s good. Mmmm, perfect,” she mumbled, eyes closed. “Where have you been, Chandler? I need a friend like you back in my life again.”

  With my hands wrapped around her head—which was a somewhat awkward position for me—she held on to her coffee. After she finished her first coffee, I was allowed to have my hands back and we looked out our window, seeing Spain below us.

  We flew the remainder of the flight into Barcelona without saying another word. Side by side. Together.

  * * *

  “So, where are you staying?” I asked as we walked with our rolling suitcases toward the exit of Barcelona-El Prat Airport.