Just Friends With Benefits (23 page)

Interrupting my thoughts, Ryan said, “Here you go” and handed me my margarita which was poured beyond capacity into the glass.

“Thanks so much. Just a warning, I’m a bit clumsy. Promise not to hate me if I accidentally spill some of this.”

“I promise not to hate you. But I’ll laugh.”

“I’ll accept those conditions.” Raising my glass in the air, I said, “Cheers, Ryan.”

Clinking his glass against mine, he said, “
Salud
.”

“Wow. You’re bilingual, huh?”

“
Si
.”

By the time I was a quarter finished with my drink, I was entirely at ease in Ryan’s company and decided tequila should be a required beverage on all first dates.

“Do you like being a guidance counselor?” I asked.

“Definitely. Middle-school kids are an interesting bunch. The land of the ‘queen bees’ and ‘wannabes.’ And boys getting boners while giving oral presentations in class always adds to the drama.”

Laughing, I said, “Good times!”

“Honestly, my part-time gig as a soccer coach is more up my alley, but you can’t make much of a living that way.”

“I suppose not.”

“And what about you? Are lawyers really that scummy or is it just a stereotype?”

“Nope. Some are pretty scummy! But I work with some really nice folks. I’ve been at the firm since I was twenty-five.”

“And how long is that exactly?”

I quickly answered, “Seven years,” before it occurred to me that we’d never divulged our ages. “How old are you?” I quickly prayed that he was older than me or at least the same age.

“I’ll be thirty in July. Practically your age.”

Wishing he was older, but relieved he didn’t seem put out by the age difference, I joked, “I’m surprised you actually remember the old seventies sitcoms. Were you even born?”

“Repeats. And, if I’m not mistaken, The Brady Bunch was a bit before your time, too.”

“True. So, have you ever dated someone older than you?” I asked.

“I dated my sister’s college roommate for awhile. She’s thirty-four—older than you. No worries.”

“So, you’ve got experience with mature women, huh?”

Raising an eyebrow, Ryan said, “Yeah, but something tells me the gap in our maturity level isn’t that wide.”

“I might be insulted by that if I actually wasn’t kind of a late bloomer.”

Ryan smiled. “I was merely pointing out that I’m wise beyond my years. What about you? Into younger men?”

Locking eyes with him, I said, “Depends on the man.”

“I see.” Ryan looked at me as if to say something else, but the pager lit up and whatever he intended to say was replaced by, “That’s us! Ready to eat?”

Glancing down at my almost empty margarita glass, I figured solid food was probably a wise idea and the aroma of Chile peppers permeating the restaurant was almost as inviting as tableside guacamole service. “Starving.”

I noticed how many people occupied the space between where we were standing and the hostess and was not entirely comfortable with my ability to navigate a clear path. “You lead the way this time,” I said.

As I followed Ryan, it occurred to me I had never seen him from behind and so I took the opportunity to check out his rear end. I figured he’d already checked out mine on our way into the restaurant so it was only fair. His butt looked kind of flat but I could tell it was just the loose fit of his jeans. I giggled, comfortable he wouldn’t be able to hear me over the loud conversations taking place around us.

The hostess led us through the restaurant, a vibrant pool of pink, red, blue, aqua and orange, to our cramped but cozy table and, after we got comfortable in our brightly colored webbed chairs, we quickly agreed to order guacamole and a pitcher of margaritas to start.

The margaritas went down very well and with each glass, the conversation got sillier.

Ryan swallowed a chip, put down his glass and gave me a serious look. “So, Zach or Slater?”

Of course, I knew exactly who he was referring to and was psyched that Ryan and I clearly had one thing in common—television trivia. “What about them?” I asked.

“Who would you rather have sex with?”

Without hesitation, I said, “Zach.” I thought about it for another second, nodded and repeated, “Definitely Zach, which is odd since I don’t usually go for blondes. What about you? Kelly or Jessie?” I guessed he would say Kelly.

“Neither. Turtle was my favorite. She was a cutie.” Ryan popped another chip in his mouth, swallowed and turned serious again. “Okay, Potsie or Ralph the Mouth?”

Laughing, I said, “I had a secret crush on Potsie when I was younger but now I think I’d like Mouth—he was funny.” I lightly tapped my hand over Ryan’s across the table and said, “By the way, I’d actually prefer neither.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Not an option in this game. You have to choose. Your turn to ask me.”

I figured it would be my turn at some point and so I had already given it some thought while we were discussing “Happy Days.” I quickly asked, “Laverne or Shirley?”

Even quicker, Ryan responded, “Laverne. Shirley is prettier but doesn’t strike me as much fun. Okay, which staff member on the “Love Boat”?”

“That’s a tough one. Dr. Bricker was a ladies’ man but only because he was a doctor. Isaac was gross, but he had access to all of the booze on the ship which could help. I used to dig Gopher but not so much anymore.” Grimacing, I said, “This sucks. Please don’t make me choose!”

Ryan was unrelenting and didn’t even crack a smile when he insisted I choose.

“Fine!” I pictured each of my choices leaning in to kiss me and shivered inwardly until I remembered something. “I got it! Ace the photographer! He was actually handsome, although I think he might be gay. Anyway, I’ve got one for you.” I paused dramatically as Ryan waited. “Mrs. Garrett or Cloris Leachman from “The Facts of Life”?”

“I think I need a shot of tequila before I even consider that one.”

“You have to choose!” I mocked.

“I choose tequila. Let’s do a shot.”

Extending my arm across the table, I said, “Twist my arm.”

By the time the food came, I was more interested in whether Ryan was going to order another pitcher of margaritas than I was in eating my crabmeat enchiladas. I was also finding it very difficult not to “accidentally” brush my legs against his under the table. Each time I smiled at something Ryan said, I worried I had salsa in my teeth. And I really had to pee but was reluctant to interrupt the flow of the conversation. I put it off as long as possible but eventually excused myself to go to the bathroom. I got up from my seat and, when attempting to squeeze past the table next to us, knocked over the basket of chips.

I said, “Oh shit” and bent down to pick the basket off of the floor. When I looked up, the two girls at the next table smiled at me sympathetically. I turned to Ryan, mortified, but he just laughed and said, “You warned me that you were clumsy. At least the basket was almost empty.”

I was definitely buzzed and, as I walked to the bathroom, I concentrated on not tripping or banging into any waiters. As always, there was a line for the bathroom and when it was finally my turn, I let out a sigh of relief while I peed for longer than the squatting position was comfortable. Before returning to the table, I ran a brush through my hair and, although I considered reapplying my lip gloss, I decided against it. It would just end up on my glass anyway.

I must have made a wrong turn after leaving the bathroom because I couldn’t find Ryan. After I circled the restaurant in a panic, I finally spotted him. As I sat down, I said, “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Actually, yeah,” he said. “The entire restaurant did the Macarena. It was awesome.”

I placed my hands on my hips and pouted. “Damn. Why do these things always happen when I’m not around?”

Ryan winked. “It’s a conspiracy.”

When the check came, Ryan immediately picked it up. Being cheap was a deal breaker for me and so I really hoped he would pay but didn’t want to make assumptions. Hoping I didn’t sound as awkward as I felt, I asked, “Do you need any money?”

Ryan looked up at me from the bill and said, “No way.”

Happy that I didn’t have to stop liking him, I smiled and said, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Ready to go?”

As we left the restaurant, I wondered what would happen next. I didn’t want the night to end, but I was already experiencing mild stomach spasms from the two pitchers of margaritas we shared and figured they wouldn’t be so mild if I continued to drink. So much for drinking one glass for his every two.

When we got outside, Ryan walked to the edge of the sidewalk and I followed him. As we stood face to face, he smiled and said, “I’m impressed.”

Surprised, I said, “With what?” Recalling that confidence was supposedly a turn-on, I quickly added, “I mean thanks, but why are you impressed?”

“You can handle your tequila.”

“Not really. I’m kind of buzzed,” I admitted.

His eyes sparkling, Ryan repeated, “Kind of buzzed, huh?”

I laughed and said, “Drunk girls never admit to being drunk. Just buzzed or maybe ‘feeling it.’ I’m feeling it.”

“And I’m still impressed. And it only took you two laps around the restaurant to find me after your bathroom break. You’ve got a stellar sense of direction.”

I blushed at the realization nothing got past this guy and he seemed to like me anyway. My lips tingling to feel his, I said, “I’m glad you’re impressed. I am too.”

Moving closer to me, Ryan asked, “With what?”

I took a small step closer to him and replied, “With you.”

“What about me?”

Not removing my eyes from his, I took his hand in mine and said, “Just you. Period.”

It felt like minutes that we stood there looking at each other but I think it was only a few seconds before Ryan sealed the remaining space between us and planted a soft kiss on my lips. Wanting more, I released his hand from mine, wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, this time more passionate. The beginnings of stubble on his chin felt rough against my face, but I didn’t care. He smelled like spiced vanilla and his hands in my hair felt sexy. I wanted to swallow him whole.

When we finally separated, I squeezed him fiercely and said, “I’ve wanted to hug you since the moment we met!”

Ryan smiled and softly caressed my earlobe with his thumb and index finger before leaning down and planting a kiss on top of my diamond stud earring. “I think I’ll refrain from confessing what I’ve wanted to do since we met, at least for now,” he said. “I’d suggest another drink but since you’re already ‘feeling it,’ it might get you drunk. Wouldn’t want that.”

I was ready to go home and sleep off the tequila but I hoped he’d mention going out again first. “I had fun, Ryan. Thanks again,” I said.

“Me too. Do it again? We never did discuss “Three’s Company”.”

“It’ll just have to wait until next time then,” I said, happily.

After one more kiss, Ryan hailed me a cab. I smiled all the way home and even with the room slightly spinning, fell asleep thinking I just had one of the best first dates ever.

On our second date, a few days later, we went to an Orioles/Rays game. Ryan was an Orioles fan and, since they weren’t playing the Yankees, I rooted for them too. Ryan barely reacted when I accidentally spilled some of my beer on the head of the guy sitting in front of us. The guy was really pissed off, though. I apologized profusely and even offered to buy him a drink, but ten minutes later, he was still running his hands through his hair as if it was soaked with beer.

“It’s just a little beer,” Ryan whispered to me. “The guy’s a pussy. Don’t sweat it.”