Just Friends With Benefits

by Schorr, Meredith

  “I was hoping you could do me a favor,” he said.

  As long as it doesn’t involve our mutual ‘friend’ Paul. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I’m trying to gather information about the management of IT groups at other firms.”

  “Why?”

  Hille laughed and said, “Don’t sound so disgusted! It’s not for fun, Steph. I’m trying to compare how other large firms are dealing with the economy and whether they’re laying anyone off, outsourcing, cutting salaries. That sort of thing. Can you help me out?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” I couldn’t believe Hille was so nonchalant.

  “Thanks, kid.”

  “So, uh, have you seen the pictures from New Year’s Eve?” I muttered ‘loser’ under my breath when it occurred to me that, of course, Hille had seen the pictures. It was his album.

  “Yeah, they came out pretty good. I especially liked the ones with Corky. Although the pictures didn’t do justice to his performance with the hula hoop. Eric should’ve used his video camera. The rest of the pictures were pretty boring. Not my best album.”

  Flashing back to the lust-struck look on my face in one picture in particular, I said, “Definitely not!” I bit my lip as I realized that probably came out wrong. Quickly correcting myself, I said, “I mean, uh, it was an okay album.”

  “Paul looked fat. I’ll be sure to bring that to his attention,” Hille said.

  Figuring Hille’s phone call was his way of telling me not to sweat the picture, I giggled and said, “Please do. Would serve him right.” I didn’t think I needed to specify why. “Thanks, Craig.” I wished I could kiss him through the phone.

  “So, you’ll get me that information about your firm’s IT group?”

  “Huh? Oh, that. Of course I will. No problem.” If Hille was sweet enough to come up with such a lame excuse to call me, I could at least pretend to go along with it.

  “Shit, Stephanie. I gotta get back to work. Thanks again for helping me out.”

  “Back at you. I feel so much better now, you have no idea.”

  I waited for a response but Hille was already gone and I was left staring at the phone.

  After we hung up, I went to make copies of a corporate binder for a client. As I unstapled the documents and ran them through the copier, I hoped the paper wouldn’t jam. And I thought about how nice it was of Hille to make up a lie just so he could call and make me feel better about Paul’s obnoxious email. I smiled as I recalled our dinner in New York and how the cleft in his chin became more defined when I made him laugh.

  Copies finished, I went to grab an empty black binder and a three-hole puncher. The small supply closet reminded me of the half bath in Eric and Jess’s house where Hille and I had sex and I remembered how he poured my coffee the next morning.

  One of the other paralegals at work did the ‘with benefits’ thing. She talked about drunk text messages and late night booty calls, but as far as I knew, there was never any coffee involved. And she never mentioned anything about the guy going out of his way to protect her from an insufferable ex-boyfriend.

  Seventeen

  After work that night, I walked through the front door of my apartment, threw my keys on the kitchen table and removed my cell phone from inside my pocketbook. Pacing the length of my living room, I hit number three on my speed dial.

  “What did you mean when you said Hille could be a challenge?” I asked.

  “Huh?”

  Exasperated, I raised my voice and repeated, “When you said Craig could be a challenge, what did you mean?”

  “Relax, Stephanie Lynn Cohen. Don’t get touchy with me.”

  “Sorry, Eric.”

  “What is this about?”

  “On New Year’s Eve, we were outside and you were smoking and grilling burgers. By the way, you really shouldn’t smoke and cook at the same time. I think I tasted ashes in my burger. Anyway, I told you I sort of liked Hille and you said he could be a challenge.”

  “Perhaps I gave you one of the hashburgers—could explain your sex with Hille in the bathroom later than night.”

  “Haha, Eric. Seriously, what did you mean?”

  “I just threw the word ‘challenge’ out there. I don’t really know what I was thinking at the time.”

  “You must have been thinking something, Eric.” Tired from pacing, I sat down in my reclining chair and with my free hand, began twirling pieces of hair around my index finger. “Is there something I should know about him? Beyond his quiet reserve, is Hille a bastard to women? Or a player? Does he have some sexually transmitted disease?”

  Laughing, Eric responded, “No! Not at all. It’s not that. It’s just that I’ve never seen him ga-ga over a chick. In fact, I’ve never seen him make much effort at all for a girl. In fifteen or so years of friendship, wouldn’t you think I’d see that?”

  Practically ripping the hair from my scalp, I said, “Maybe he just hasn’t met a girl worthy of being ga-ga over. Doesn’t mean he’s not capable, does it?”

  “Are you saying you want to be that girl, Stephanie?”

  Of course I did, but hoping I sounded convincing, I said, “No, I just wondered what you meant by ‘challenge,’ that’s all.”

  “Look, Steph, if Hille does it for you, by all means, have fun. Just be safe.”

  Laughing at Eric’s mature advice, I said, “Yes, Dad!”

  “And be careful.”

  “Careful? Is that different from ‘safe’?”

  Eric simply repeated, “Just be careful.”

  “Aw! You love me, don’t you – you big sap!”

  “Yes. I – love – you – all – over,” Eric responded robotically.

  “I love you, too.”

  After we hung up, I thought about what Eric said. It was true Hille didn’t have any serious girlfriends in college but, then again, neither did most of my friends. For most people I knew, college was a time for having fun. I wasn’t all that privy to details regarding his love life after college, although I knew he dated girls here and there. Although I didn’t really see a problem with the fact that, at the ripe old age of 34, Hille had not yet been “ga-ga” over someone, between his categorization of us as friends with benefits, the absence of any real behavior on his part to suggest he felt otherwise and Eric’s warning, I decided it was time to move on and focus my energies elsewhere. I decided to renew my Match.com subscription.

  Eighteen

  It was a Wednesday night, my weekly ‘Girl’s night’ with Suzanne, but we weren’t in the mood to go out and decided to just order in and watch “Criminal Minds” at my apartment. It hadn’t started yet so I muted the television and showed her my amended dating profile.

  After reading it, Suzanne cocked her head to the side, gave me a puzzled look and said, “You seriously plan on posting this?”

  “What? It’s not good?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t go that far. But…”

  “But what?”

  Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Do me a favor. Read it out loud.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Move over.” We were sitting on my couch and after Suzanne shifted to the right to give me better access to my laptop, I leaned over my glass coffee table and started reading.

  Physical attraction is, obviously, very important to me as it should be to you. I don’t expect every guy to think I’m hot but I would hope my boyfriend would. Similarly, you don’t have to be a GQ model but if we meet and I have no desire to kiss you much less see you naked at some point, it won’t work. I would say my physical type is tall, dark and handsome. And brains are a turn-on. If your brain is small, the size of other parts of your body is moot. I think a guy who knows his way around a computer is hot. I prefer someone quiet and reserved over loud and obnoxious as long as you know how to have fun. I love baseball and although I’d prefer to date a Yankee fan, as long as you’re not a Red Sox fan, we might make it through a baseball season without killing each other. My friends are extremely important to me and any guy I
date will need the intelligence and sense of humor to fully comprehend how awesome they are and how fortunate he is to be granted access to the fold. His friends, pending approval, are welcomed too.

  I turned away from the computer and looked at Suzanne who, in the 30 seconds it took for me to read my profile, had managed to tie her curly blonde hair up in a bun without even using a ponytail holder. It always amazed me how good she was with her hair. I didn’t acquire the coordination to put my hair into a simple ponytail until I went away to college and could no longer ask my mom. “I don’t see the problem,” I said.

  “You don’t think it’s a tad bit specific?”

  “I’m not sure I follow you,” I said.

  Suzanne got up from the couch and stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. Then she held up one finger and said, “Tall, dark and handsome, huh?”

  I nodded and said, “Yeah, so?”

  Holding up two fingers, Suzanne said, “Knows his way around a computer, huh?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I’m technically-challenged. It might be convenient to date a computer geek!”

  Three fingers up, she said, “Quiet and reserved?”

  I pursed my lips and remained silent.

  Very loudly, Suzanne said, “Stephanie. Unless Hille or his doppelganger subscribes to Match.com, I don’t think you need to join Match to find this person.”

  I crossed my arms defensively and said, “Not true!”

  “Name one thing on this profile that doesn’t describe Hille to a T.”

  I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head and felt the color rise in my cheeks. Determined, I read the profile again. “Got it!” I wrote that I preferred a Yankee fan but anything except a Sox fan would be fine! That doesn’t limit it to Hille!”

  Suzanne shook her head at me, turned around and walked towards my kitchen.

  I knew she was right and followed her. Sitting at my kitchen table, I said, “I didn’t do it on purpose. I just have Hille on my mind, I guess.”

  “If you’re gonna move on from this infatuation with Hille, you need to really move on,” Suzanne insisted. “He’s not the only guy in the world!”

  I put my elbows on the table and covered my eyes with the palms of my hands for a few moments as I contemplated Suzanne’s statement. A few seconds later, I looked up and said, “You’re right. When you’re right, you’re right. And you’re right. Time to move on. If Hille wanted me to be his girlfriend, he would do something about it. But he hasn’t and so I must assume he’s not interested.”

  Suzanne nodded in approval and I followed her back to the living room. “And, if he is interested, he needs to up his game,” she said. “Shit or get off the pot, ya know?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Except it couldn’t be just a coincidence that Hille called me just moments after Paul’s email. Why would he play hero like that and make me feel better if he didn’t like me? And besides, he was the one who suggested hooking up again. I had no intention of making two moves in a row and had resigned myself to just being friends until he offered to give me another orgasm!”

  I waited for Suzanne to offer up an explanation that might make sense out of all of this, but she had turned the volume up on the TV and was no longer listening to me. That’s when I realized even the psycho-killing ‘un-sub’ of the week on “Criminal Minds” was probably thinking more clearly and I promised to change my profile again and renew my subscription as soon as possible.

  And then my phone rang.

  Nineteen

  Although once again, I did not recognize the 201 number, I once again knew instantly it was Hille. I was going to save his number to my contacts but had this fear that doing so would be presumptuous and result in his never calling me again. I had just turned on “Grey’s Anatomy” but decided that Hille was McDreamy enough for me and muted the television. Nervous as usual, I picked up the phone with one hand and with the other began instinctively twirling my hair. After initial pleasantries, Hille got to the point of his call.

  “Did you happen to get that information for me?” he asked.

  “What information?”

  “About your IT department. Remember?”

  I repeated, “About my IT department?” and then I remembered. “Oh shit. I forgot, Craig.”

  “Oh. That’s okay. Do you think you can get it, though?”

  “You mean you really need it?” I could’ve sworn he had only asked as an excuse to call me.

  “Well, it’s not absolutely necessary. I was able to compile information from other firms.”

  I knew it. “Oh, good.”

  “So, Paul’s birthday is coming up,” he said.

  I was glad he was finally changing the subject. “Uh huh. I thought about buying him sensitivity, but Target was all out of it,” I said.

  Amusing Hille was becoming one of my favorite pastimes and when he laughed, I tried to contain my own grin and continue the conversation as if I hadn’t noticed. “What’s up for his birthday?” I asked.

  “No one’s seen my new place and so I was thinking about inviting the gang over to Hoboken to celebrate his birthday there. There’s no shortage of bars. I just wanted to make sure you’d be up for it.”

  I was beginning to wonder if it was just a coincidence that the gang was getting together more frequently since Hille and I first had sex. “I’d be up for it,” I said.

  “Awesome!”

  I measured Hille’s response on my imaginary enthusiasm-meter. He thought it was ‘awesome’ that I was up for a road trip to Hoboken. Not quite ‘ga-ga,’ but not too shabby at all.

  The renewal of my Match.com subscription would have to wait.

  Twenty

  A vendor had taken a few of the paralegals out for a three hour lunch, during which I drank three-plus cocktails. During lunch, I silently vowed to speak coherently to Hille while in Hoboken and not simply to say, “Yes. I’ll have sex with you again.” I was going to ask him questions and not just whether he had a condom. I was going to try to solve the mystery of Hille. There was more to him than his penetrating dark eyes and almost genius IQ and I wanted to know everything.

  Due to my long lunch, I missed my mother’s daily phone call and, in my tipsy condition, was eager to talk to her. My mom was not entirely unaccustomed to seeing or hearing me under the influence of alcohol. Although she would sometimes “tsk, tsk” me for getting drunk or for my occasional drag of Al’s cigarette after too many glasses of wine, she once confessed to enjoying my drunk proclamations that she was the best mother in the whole wide world.

  “Sorry I couldn’t call you back sooner. I took a long lunch and just got back,” I said.

  “Just now? Go anywhere good?” my mom asked.

  “Yup! A vendor took me and a few other paralegals to Perry’s.”

  “Very nice. What did you eat?”

  “Lots of sushi and lots-o-wine.”

  My mom chuckled. “Aha! I knew you sounded more excited to speak to me than normal. I just thought it was because you missed me.”

  “Yeah, I’m a bit buzzed. But, I do miss you!”

  “I miss you too, sweetheart. When will I see you again?”

  “Maybe I can come over for dinner on Sunday.” And maybe you can make your famous baked ziti parmesan.

  “I have a mahjong tournament on Sunday, but what about next weekend?”

  “Can’t. Going to New Jersey,” I said.

  “What’s all the way in New Jersey?”

  “Hille lives there. In Hoboken. It’s supposed to be like a mini-New York City. Lots of bars and stuff. We’re going to celebrate Paul’s birthday.”

  “Is Paul still dating Hope?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “So, I assume she’s going too? And Jess and Eric?”

  “I’m pretty sure,” I said.

  “And who else?”

  “Just Hille.”

  “So, it will be all couples except for you and Hille?” my mom asked.

>   It hadn’t even occurred to me that Hille might invite some of his local friends, too. I hoped not since that might include girls. “I think it’s just the core group, Mom. But we’re all such good friends, it hardly matters. Hold on. I want to close my door.” After I put the receiver on the desk, I got up to shut my office door. Then I walked back to my desk, took a sip from my water bottle and put the phone on speaker. “Okay. I’m back. What were we saying?”