The Marriage Pact (1) (13 page)

“What?”
Travis grinned. Despite the grime and vulgarity, Marci thought he had kind of a
nice smile.

Aaron’s
face was crimson. “He stuck his hand up my shorts under the table!” The rickety
wood table shook as the whole group collapsed in laughter.

“All’s
fair in love and war,” Travis said, making kissing noises at Aaron. “Your
credit card, please, ma’am. The next round is on Nads! Or should I say, Nads’
mommy! She pays your bills, doesn’t she?”

Aaron
started to protest, but looked around at the group waiting for his response and
seemed to change his mind. He pulled out his wallet, slammed down a card, and
sputtered away from the table, ignoring his teammates’ cries coming from behind
him.

“Oh
come on, sweetie, don’t go away mad!”

“Hey
wait! How come only Truck gets to feel you up? We all want a turn!”

“Tell
your mom I said ‘hi’!”

When
Aaron returned several minutes later, the pizza had been delivered and mostly
devoured. But he no longer seemed angry and started an immediate conversation
with two teammates about the baseball game overhead. Marci wondered whether
anyone would refer to the earlier incident, but no one did.
Men are so
strange,
she thought.

Meanwhile,
Travis/Truck had made his way down to her end of the table and was seated
across from Marci, next to Jake. He stuffed half a slice of pepperoni in his
mouth and elbowed Jake roughly. “Mmmh...Didn’t know you had a girlfriend,
Stillwell,” and then to Marci, “Did I meet you at our house party a few weeks
ago?”

Before
she could answer, Jake said, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh,
well, then.” Travis wiped his hand on his shirt and extended it to her. “Travis
Fortner. Nice to meet you, um—?”

“Marci,”
she said.

“Marci,”
Travis repeated, holding her gaze.

“Easy,
Truck,” said Jake.

“What?
Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Stillwell.” He winked at Marci.
Another argument broke out at the other end of the table, and Truck got up with
his beer glass. “Ah... Duty calls. Nice to meet you, Marci.”

Marci
smiled back at him. As she watched him inserting himself into the loud
conversation down-table, she had a feeling he would do little to settle
anything. Soon another scuffle broke out and several guys jumped to avoid a
spilled pitcher of beer. Marci watched in amusement as the restaurant manager
appeared to tell them all to settle down.

“Hey,
want to get out of here?” Jake asked, throwing cash on the table.

“Sure,”
she said.

Instead
of taking her home, Jake suggested a visit to a new bar downtown where a friend
of his was working. Buzzed from the beer and relieved to be in friendly company
after so many days alone, Marci was pretty much up for anything. Jake pulled
sandals and a button-up shirt from the back of the Jeep and somehow made his
grubby practice clothes into passable bar attire.

“Sorry
about the guys,” he said as they settled on barstools in the back corner of the
bar. Dark and uncrowded, the bar thumped with insistent techno music and disco
lights, as though a horde of people were going to show up any moment for
martinis and dancing. “They can be pretty obnoxious and sometimes don’t notice
when there’s a lady around.”

Hearing
Jake refer to her as a lady was funny, but it was sweet that he cared about her
feelings. “It’s okay,” she said. “I thought it was fun.”

Jake’s
friend brought them two bottled beers and two shots of something that tasted
like Lemon Pledge. Marci shuddered as it went down; she had not planned to
drink so much, but it seemed rude to turn down free drinks, especially because
he had been kind enough not to check Marci’s ID. She was the last of her
friends to turn twenty-one and often felt she was holding them back.

“Well,
just don’t pay any attention to Truck, okay?” he said as they slammed the shot
glasses back on the bar. “He’s kind of a player.”

“Why
are you worried about it?” she teased. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

“No,
you’re not, but you’re my best friend and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’m
your best friend, really?” It had never occurred to her before.

“You
are, by a long shot,” he said. “I thought you knew that.”

He
looked at her for a minute and then slapped his hand on the bar. “Speaking of
long shots, let’s have more of that lemon stuff, huh?”

They
talked for a while about the bar (pretentious yet grimy), the Frisbee team (fun
but rowdy), and the upcoming summer quarter (grueling but nice to have more
credits going into fall). Before each drink was empty, another appeared in its
place. After a third round of lemon shots and beer, Marci began to complain
about Beth’s wedding. “I just don’t understand how she can choose to do this,
to make such a big decision about her life before she’s even old enough to
drink
.”
She gestured broadly at the bar in front of them, as though Jake needed
illustration for what she meant by “drink.”

“I
agree totally,” he said. “That’s why I’m not even going to date anyone
seriously until I’m at least twenty-five. I am not getting married until I’m
thirty.”

“You’re
not going to date until twenty-five? Jake, that is a waste! So many women would
want to
be
with you.”

“Well,
I didn’t say I was going to be a monk or anything. I mean, I’ll
date
. I
am just not going to get serious with anyone. I don’t want to be one of those
guys who marries some girl he met in high school or college, and spends the rest
of his life wondering what else is out there. You know?”

“Yeah,”
she said. “I really want to live
my
life first. I don’t want to marry a
mechanic and stay in my hometown forever. That just feels like settling, you know?
I mean, no offense to Beth and Ray, but what about seeing the world and going
to college and expanding your mind?”

“Totally,”
Jake agreed, emphatically swigging his beer.

“Plus
there’s the dress,” Marci said, feeling free now to say what was on her mind,
especially because Jake and Beth had never met. “They’re so green and so puffy.
I mean, I’m puffy enough as it is. I have to lose weight to fit into it. The
girdle is so tight I can barely breathe. I’m going to pass out at the altar!”

“I
don’t think you should lose
any
weight,” Jake said, slurring only
slightly. “You’re perfect just the way you are.” He put his hand on her cheek,
and she patted his belly playfully.

“Easy
for you to say. You don’t have to squeeze your gut into a girdle.”

“You’re
perfect,” he insisted, now with both hands on her face.

Marci
felt herself moving toward him in slow motion and saw his expression change.
The kiss tasted like beer and Lemon Pledge with remnants of the dirt and sweat
from Jake’s practice. For a second they looked at each other, surprised, and
then kissed again with renewed fervor. As they kissed, Jake slid off his seat
and moved closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her and let his hands
linger on the small of her back. She clasped her hands behind his neck. Marci
had seen couples making out in bars before, and had always resented the public
display. Now that the tables were turned, it was pretty fun to be the
disgusting ones. She cared about nothing except getting closer to him.

The
bartender returned briefly to take their glasses and whistled lewdly. “Atta
boy, Jake,” he said. Their laughter at this separated them and they looked at
each other, appraising and embarrassed. Part of her knew that this was weird,
suddenly making out with her friend after two years. She ought to feel
uncomfortable, but happy didn’t seem to be leaving room for it. For the number
of drinks they had both consumed, his eyes seemed remarkably clear as he looked
down at her, his hand on the side of her face.

“Is
this weird?” he asked, reading her thoughts.

“Totally,”
she said, grinning.
God, what would Suzanne say?

“Yeah,
I agree,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her again. The thump of the music grew
distant. She closed her eyes and inhaled him with every breath. After a few
minutes, he whispered throatily, “Cab to your place?”

“Mmm-hmm,”
she said, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He paid the tab and guided her
outside with his hands on her hips.

In
the dark back seat of the cab, Jake allowed his hands to wander beneath her
shirt while they kissed. Marci could barely control her excitement. She had
always been attracted to Jake, and once in a while she had a fleeting sense the
feeling might be mutual. But he had never acted on it, and she had not allowed
herself to entertain the idea for long. Not so much as a kiss on the cheek
until tonight.

In
the parking lot of her apartment, the middle-aged driver heaved an annoyed sigh
while Jake fumbled in his pockets for the fare. When the cab pulled away, they
walked hand in hand to the front door of her dark apartment, stopping to lean
against it for a few more minutes before she located her key and let them in.
Inside, she wasn’t sure what to do. Offer him a drink? Put on a movie? Abandon
all pretense and head straight for the bedroom?

She
had brought guys back to the apartment before, of course, but always while at
least one of her roommates was home and generally after an official date. This
was new territory: an empty apartment with someone who needed no introduction
to her life. Jake, however, did not seem to feel any awkwardness. He pulled her
polo shirt over her head and threw it on the floor, walking her back toward her
bedroom as he did.

They
undressed each other hurriedly and collapsed onto her bed. After a few more
minutes, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She reached into the top drawer of
her night table and pulled out a strip of condoms. He looked at them with a
mischievous grin, and then back at her. “Are you sure?”

“
So
sure.” Or at least she had been until he asked. She paused before handing him
the string of little square wrappers. “It feels right, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.
And you’re okay with everything? The whole ‘No Serious Dating’ thing?”

Even
though the conversation had only been a couple of hours ago, it somehow felt very
distant from where they were. Irrelevant to them. She didn’t want to talk about
reality now. Hesitation might mean ruining her only chance to experience this
with Jake, her best friend, who was handsome and funny and naked in her bed.
Everything else would have to iron itself out tomorrow. She kissed him in
response, and they made love without turning back the covers.

A
few hours later, she woke up cradled in his arms and snuggled closer to him. He
shifted, kissed her bare shoulder, and slid his arm out from under her. He
began getting dressed at the foot of the bed. “Why are you up?” she asked.

“It’s
morning,” he said. “I gotta go home.”

“Your
car is downtown,” she said. “Can’t you just stay?”

“Nah,
I’ll walk. It’s a nice morning. You should sleep in.” The words were friendly,
but his tone was clipped and tight.

“Jake.”
She sat up. He was apparently focused on finding his sandals and said nothing.
“Jake?” The hint of desperation in her own voice embarrassed her.

“Last
night was great,” he said gently, meeting her eye at last. “Really great. I’m
just worried that it wasn’t the smartest thing we could’ve done.”

“Why?”

“Because
you
are
my best friend, and I meant what I said that I don’t want to
date anyone seriously at this point in my life.”

She
resented his assumption that she wanted some kind of serious relationship, even
after their conversation last night. On the other hand, she did not want him to
leave, especially like this. “Can’t we just have fun? Don’t friends do that
sometimes?” She’d heard about friends with benefits—admittedly not from anyone
she actually knew, but still.

“Maybe
we could, but...Honestly, Marce, I don’t think you would be happy with that for
very long. The way you looked at me.”

She
felt suddenly defensive. “You were looking pretty intense yourself. I don’t
think it was
me
who suggested getting a cab.”

“I
know, I know. I’m sorry. I guess...” He studied a fraying spot on the carpet.
“I guess I love you too much to be the guy who lets you down.”

She
slammed her head back against the pillow, regretting it immediately and
remembering the lemon shots. She turned defiantly away from him to face the
wall.

“If
I haven’t already,” he murmured sadly.

He
waited a minute or two for her to respond, but she could think of nothing to
say. Everything he was saying made sense; he’d been very clear about it last
night, and the way she was acting now only confirmed his theory. She wanted
desperately to be casual and light, say something like, “Okay, sweetie, I’ll
catch you later,” and mean it. She wanted to prove to him that she could be his
friend and his lover and that it wouldn’t be weird. But it
was
weird,
and casual was the furthest thing from what she was feeling right now.