Winning Back Ryan (3 page)

             
I couldn’t help but feel grateful and nostalgic while ogling Brian working around the kitchen. After pouring our drinks, he turned on his iPod resting on the kitchen counter to our 'Getting Crunked' playlist full of fun drinking songs. He then walked back over with two Long Island Iced Teas.

             
Sitting down, Brian handed me my glass. "To revenge," he toasted, and I forced a smile before clinking my glass.

             
I decided that I wanted a more honest toast, so I offered, "To best friends."

             
Brian smiled, and repeated my toast, "To best friends," before taking a sip.

Ryan may not be my boyfriend, but Brian was still there, and that counted for a lot.

**

             
Four drinks later and halfway into our playlist, Brian and I played Wii as we sang loudly off-tune. This was likely a terrible idea because Brian’s T.V. was large and expensive, and we were both inebriated with blunt objects in our hands, wildly swinging the remotes about like the drunken idiots we were.  I’d like to say this was the first time we attempted such a stupid idea, but it was not. Not even by a long shot. We didn’t drink together anymore, not since I began dating Ryan, but when Brian and I did get drunk and we weren’t at a bar, there were only two things that we did. One was play Wii. Two was wrestle for hours. Right now Brian’s precious ego was bruised as I handed him his rear in a game of skee-ball. I bowed theatrically while he booed loudly.

             
“Alright, you know the rules. Loser makes next round of drinks,” I said. It was a cheesy prize, but those were the best wins because the real prize was the bragging rights.

             
He groaned loudly before grabbing my glass and his. “What’ll be?”

             
“Surprise me!” I shouted, my hands flailing in the air.

             
In the span of one song that I sang poorly to, he trotted back over from the kitchen to the living room, and I didn’t even bother inspecting it or asking. I opened my mouth and let the mysterious drink pour down my throat. Wiping my mouth, I glanced up at a smiling Brian. I’m one of those super happy drunks that loved everyone and their mother, so I turned towards my friend, placing my hand on his shoulder.

             
“I want to thank you for doing this. You’re an incredible friend, and I’m lucky to have you in my life.”

             
Normally, when I thanked my friend for something, I didn’t sound like a Hallmark card, but I was already drunk.  He smiled back warmly, placing his hand on my shoulder. Even though we both drank the same amount, I could tell that he was more sober than me. I swayed slightly and my hand on his arm helped to steady me.

             
“You would do the same for me.” His eyes grew sad for a moment before he looked at me again. “You have done it for me.”

I saw the sadness in his eyes and just like every other time, my protective instinct came out and I wanted to do anything in my power to wipe his sadness away. I didn’t want him to think about those dark times, about those moments when he wasn’t happy-go-lucky Brian.  The time when I almost lost him…

              “Hey, hey. None of that,” I warned him. The sadness still lingered in his eyes, so after abandoning my remote, I cupped his face.  “It was a long time ago,” I whispered.

             
His eyes still on mine, he blurted out, “I don’t think it’s wise for you to stay at your apartment.”

             
I moved away fractionally, shrugging.  “My name is on the lease.”

             
“You should put some distance between yourself and Ryan for a while. Why don’t you stay here for at least two weeks?” he suggested.

             
“And cramp your style? I don’t think so,” I said while plopping down on his sofa.

             
“You won’t be cramping my style. It’ll be great to have you around. It’d be like college again,” he quickly amended. “First and second year college.” I frowned at his need to correct himself. Brian and I were inseparable before Ryan and I met, hanging out nearly every day. “I miss those times,” he admitted.

I sighed, feeling like he was guilt tripping me into the idea, which made no sense because it would just be an inconvenience to him.

              “Can I think about it when I’m sober?” I asked.

             
“What’s holding you back?” he asked, sitting down next to me. 

             
“I feel like I’m running away from the problem,” I admitted.

             
“You’re not. You’re giving each other space to cool down.”

I placed my head in my hands; because of my drunken state, my emotions swayed back and forth between joy and despair. The drunk me was having trouble being in denial.

              “What’s really wrong?” he asked as he began rubbing my back.

             
I looked up at Brian, straightened myself, and admitted the truth. “I don’t want this to be over between me and him.”

             
He looked at me as if I was crazy, his face distorting. “You aren’t seriously suggesting that you want to get back with him.”

             
“No,” I wanted to say, “I can’t get back with him until I lose all the weight and fix all the other problems on his list of grievances.” Instead, I looked away mumbling, “It’s complicated.”

             
“How so?” he howled, exasperated.

             
I met his eyes as I began my drunken confession. “He’s my first, so he has to be my last. I chose him, so he is The One.”

             
Brian’s mouth popped open, his eyes widened. “He was your first?” I didn’t reply as I heard him mutter, “Holy crap.” Neither of us said anything for a while lost in our own thoughts. Finally, he spoke again.
“Well,” he said in a confident voice. “It’s alright. You’ll soon see why you should have moved on long ago.”

             
“What are you talking about?” I asked, my entire being recoiling from the idea of moving on from Ryan.

             
“He is your first and only, right?” he asked and I nodded, trying to follow his train of thought. “I bet all the money in my bank account you’ll realize after sleeping with the next guy that Ryan isn’t special. You only think he’s great because you don’t have a comparison.”

Brian and I talked about everything under the sun, except details about our sex lives. It’s always been a topic left alone. He just didn’t understand. None of my friends were raised like I was. None of them even believed in organized religion.

              “Let’s just drop the topic,” I stammered.

             
“Trust me,” he said, ignoring my request. “I’m a guy and he’s a guy. I’m telling you from a man’s opinion, there’s better out there than him.”

I didn’t want to fight with Brian, but I wanted this conversation to end quickly.

              I could tell he was watching me, and he asked, “Do you want to wrestle? Get it out of your system?”

I shook my head. The drunken me was concerned that if I started wrestling with Brian, I’d lose it and might hurt him, which was the last thing I wanted-to misdirect my anger at the one person trying to help me.

              It was as though he could read my thoughts, because he said, “Come on, take it out on me. You’ll feel better.”

             
I shook my head, not even wanting to be tempted with the notion. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

             
“Come on,” he said and pushed my arm. I shook my head, knowing he was baiting me. I wouldn’t fall for it.

             
“Ryan cheated on you with some tramp in your bed. Surely that angers you,” he stated before shoving me.

             
My hands began to tremble. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My mind was forced to replay the scene after I opened my bedroom door.

             
“You know what I’m talking about. He slept with that chick in your bed. He had sex with her all day.” Brian pushed me roughly.

             
“I don’t know that as fact,” I stammered, staring down at the wooden floor.

             
“You do know it as fact. He slept with her. They were F-U-C…”

He wasn’t able to finish because I screamed out like a maniac and tackled him to the floor.

              “Take it back!” I straddled him, flailing my arms about in an attempt to hit him. Brian blocked my blows with ease.

             
“I can’t take it back. I wish I could. But he cheated on you, betrayed you, and violated your trust,” he said. Ah, Brian, my therapist. This was my friend’s way of trying to force me to deal with the situation. I had a habit of staying in deep denial when something very unpleasant happened. He seemed under the impression that once I accepted what happened, I could begin to move on from Ryan. He just didn’t understand.

             
“It’s no big deal. We’ll be back together soon and everything will be fine.” I still straddled him, my hands on his chest for balance.

             
“Like hell you are, Annie!” he shouted.

             
“I need to lose the weight. I need to fix the other problems. Then he’ll want me again,” I plead.

             
“No, Annie, he won’t want you after you lose weight or change anything else about yourself,” he replied.

The words were like a sword straight through my heart. I was surprised by the sudden pain. I returned quickly to denial.

              “No! He told me why he’s unhappy! I know why! I can fix all of those things!”

             
Brian shook his head. “He said those things to give him an excuse for cheating, because he thought you’d believe it.”

The words hit me like a well-placed slap in the face.

              I sat down next to him. “Why did he leave then? Why did he do this to us?”

             
Brian sighed. “Because some men are selfish pigs, Annie. Some men want everything- the loyal, beautiful girlfriend at home taking care of them, and the women on the side to satisfy any sexual desire and stroke their ego. Ryan is a worthless pig.”

             
I looked at Brian, whispering, “It hurts a lot, I’m afraid that I’m going to fall apart.”

             
“Well, if you do, I’ll glue you back together,” Brian said, sitting up. His hand rested on his knee. “So, don’t worry about it. Go ahead and fall apart. I have the glue.”

His words were like some magic sprinkled over me and at hearing his permission to lose it, I did. I sobbed wildly, and he pulled me into his embrace. He lay back down on the floor, pulling me down with him, rubbing my back, “It’s going to be okay, Annie,” he murmured in my ear.

We laid there for a long time- me crying myself out, Brian rubbing my back. I eventually heard my cell phone ringing, and when I stood up, I realized we had been lying there for over an hour.

I took my phone out of my pocketbook, reading the caller I.D.:
Ben.

             
“Hey, what’s up?” I answered the phone.

             
“I’m watching this band on Bowery. They are killin’ it! George and Max are here, and I’m not taking no for an answer. So, if I have to drive to New Jersey and pick your sorry ass up, I will.” I broke out crying hysterically. “Shit! That sounds like tears. What’s wrong?” Ben asked a little panicky.

             
“I came home to find Ryan cheating on me. He was sleeping with this ridiculously hot girl. Then he gave me this laundry list of complaints. According to him, I was doing all these things wrong, and they’re the reason he’s unhappy in our relationship. He tells me this now…after two years.”

             
There’s silence on the other end of the phone, a first for Ben. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

I nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see the action through the phone.

              Finally, he said, “Fuck him. There are a million more out there better than him.”

I sniffled loudly, wiping my nose.

              “So, come on down and hang out with us. I’ll buy you shots and get you good and wasted.”

             
I turned towards Brian. “Do you want to hang out with the guys in New York?”

             
“Do you want to go?” He asked me. I nodded, giving a small smile. Maybe going out was exactly what I needed.

             
“Then let’s go,” he replied.

Ben gave me the exact address to the club and I programmed it into my GPS before we hung up.

             
It was the kind of night where the heat hung in the air, and the mugginess made everyone cranky and uncomfortable. The perspiration drops clung to my forehead and the nape of my neck. I took a napkin out of my purse for Brian handing it to him. When he glanced over and saw me wiping my own brow, he nodded in thanks. I knew he must be as uncomfortable as I was. We stood outside Pyro for twenty more minutes in comfortable silence before my phone rang. 

             
“Where are you?” Ben asked impatiently.

             
“Brian and I are standing outside the club. We’re waiting in line.”

             
“Fuck the line. Go up to the bouncer and give him your name. I put you on the list. They’ll let you right in,” he told me.

I glanced uncomfortably at Brian, whose curious eyes questioned me.  I peeked up at the twenty people ahead of us in line, biting my lip in nervousness.

              “Are you sure? I really don’t want to get jumped tonight by angry people. This day has sucked enough already.”
“A little faith, Annie, please!”  Ben’s voice bellowed through the phone. “When you get in find Max at the bar. He’s about to shit a brick waiting for you, and I’m not haulin’ his fat ass to the hospital tonight.” I heard a wailing guitar in the background. “And George owes me fifty ’cause he bet you wouldn’t show up. So, half of that’s yours, cupcake.”

             
“Why do I get half? You made the bet with George; the money should be all yours,” I replied, plugging my ear, so that I could drown out the sidewalk noise.

             
“Annie, if a guy’s alone and having sex, he’s really only jerkin’ himself off. She needs to show up in order to have himself a party,” he replied casually.

             
“How does that have anything to do with-”

             
He cut me off. “If you didn’t show up, I couldn’t have won the bet. So, since I needed you in order to win, it seems you should also reap the benefits.”

             
“But how does that have anything to do-”

             
“Think about it for a while. It’ll come to you,” he told me.  I hung up my phone in confusion.

             
“What was that all about?” Brian asked me, standing at my side.

             
I shook my head. “Something to do with him masturbating at a party… I think.”

Brian glanced at me strangely, and I sighed, motioning for Brian to follow me as I tossed my phone back into my purse.  The only reason I thought this would work at all was because of Ben’s extensive social connections.

I left the line and walked right up to the bouncer. He was a large African American man with tattoos all over his shaved scalp. I swallowed roughly. He simply raised a brow at me.

             
“Um, my friend told me to leave the line and tell you my name. He said I’m on the list.”
Please don’t get me killed tonight, Ben.

             
“Who’s your friend?” He asked, his voice as scary as his physique. I was pretty sure that his left bicep was larger than my head.

             
Letting out a shaky breath, I replied, “Ben Hurley.”

             
He glanced down at the clipboard. “And your name?”

             
So far so good. “Anne Watson and Brian Aschcroft.”

             
He nodded curtly and moved aside. “Enjoy yourselves.”

             
I blinked in surprise then tugged on Brian’s t-shirt to follow me. We walked through the large wrought-iron double doors and into the club. It was a rather intimate place, with a modestly sized stage, the club catering to unsigned bands on the verge of making it. Pyro had a reputation for giving some of the hottest rock bands in history their big break.  Strobe lights danced across faces in the crowd as people lost themselves in the music. An intricate laser light show caught my eye on stage in sync with the performing band’s guitar solo. Since Ben told me to look for Max first, I glanced to the large oak bar running the length of the club. I leaned over, yelling to Brian that I found Max, pointing him out at the end of the bar. He stood there rigidly in a blue short-sleeved dress shirt, khaki dress pants, and brown leather loafers. For him, this was dressed down, since he wasn’t wearing a coat and tie. He couldn’t have stuck out more in the crowd of faded tees and ripped jeans if he tried.

             
“How have you been, Max?” I leaned over kissing his cheek.

             
“Work is killing me as usual. And now I’m here trying to keep Ben and George out of trouble.”  He rolled his eyes. “All I can say is thank God you showed up.”

             
I chuckled at his words. “They’re a handful tonight?” Max raised his brow giving me a ‘when aren’t they’ look, so I added, “More so than usual?”

             
He frowned, blowing a fallen strand of his black, glossy hair off his forehead. “Those two are out for trouble tonight. I don’t know what’s gotten into them.”

I groaned in annoyance. I wasn’t sure if I had the strength to handle them tonight. But, then I thought that maybe keeping them from getting arrested meant I wouldn’t focus on what happened back at the apartment. Tonight could be a blessing in disguise. Besides, I had Brian and Max to help make sure we all had fun tonight and no arrest warrants were issued.

              “Where are our maniacs?” I asked him. Max pointed them out in the front of the club, near the stage.

             
I nodded, and turned towards Brian. “Do you want to wait here while I get them?”

He leaned in to my ear telling me that he would order us drinks.  I nodded and then walked off towards my other friends.

              I saw George first, standing next to Ben wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, brown leather loafers, striped dress shirt opened over a white v-neck. He eyed up a blonde in a mini skirt likely deciding if he wanted to bring her home later on.  George didn’t date. Ever. He actually prided himself on never being on a date, or as he put it, “Being suckered into paying for sex.”

             
It didn’t hurt his cause that he looked like a famous actor currently starring on a hit television show about twenty- something year-olds living in New York City. So, for the last few years whenever we went out anywhere, I’d always hear someone ask him, “Are you Kyle Cahill?” Normally, he’d answer yes, especially if it was a woman. It was nearly guaranteed that they’d come home with him, and his apartment was swanky enough that he could pull off the lie.

             
I touched his back, and he turned towards me, his eyes lighting up in recognition. “Annie, you came!” He threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly. A moment later he muttered, “Shit, now I owe that douchebag fifty bucks.” I giggled knowing that he referred to his bet with Ben.  He pulled me back, his hands on my arms. “I’m glad you showed up,” he said warmly and tossed his head in Ben’s direction.

             
I glanced over to find our friend playing the air guitar. Ben was, by far, the wildest of my friends, and wore a t-shirt of a band no one had ever heard of with a pair of ripped jeans that he owned for as long as I had known him. Ben had a tongue ring and blue streaks through his brown, disheveled, spiky hair.  He always had that ‘I just got out of bed from sleeping with your girlfriend all night long’ look about him. 

             
Ben was one of the most unique people I had ever met in my life, but maybe that’s because I had never met a millionaire playboy before him. After attending NYU, Ben then attended NYU Law School and was at the top of his class in his first year. And just like I had attended every single one of Brian’s track meets all four years, I also attended every single one of Ben’s debate competitions.

             
I always thought that law was a strange career choice for someone as wild as him. He played the guitar and was a talented artist, so I always thought that he would pursue some creative field. It’s not as if he
needed
money. But, despite his sloppy appearance-God, did I hate those jeans- and normally loose-cannon behavior, he was very gifted at law. He could remember the most obscure laws on the books. I knew because I’ve helped him study for exams quite a few times in the past six months.

             
But, his artistic side or his wild side weren’t the only reasons why he was the most unique person in my life. He was an oddity. Despite his fortune and fame, Ben never flounced it. He would rather be at the grungy bars then the five -star restaurants. He took public transportation more often than his limousine.  For all the money he had, he spent an exorbitant amount of effort appearing poor.

             
He was a socialite, coming from a very long line of politicians, lawyers, judges, presidential advisors... His money was as old as the Civil War itself, and his family’s history, just like his own, was checkered. Depending on whom you asked, the Hurleys were either a Godsend or a plague on society. Either way, his family name was an American icon, a legacy. I didn’t care about the fame or the money. Ben was my friend because he was a good person; that was
all
that mattered to me. Despite our radically different lifestyles, childhoods, and different point of views on nearly everything under the sun, Ben, like me, understood the value of loyalty. Judas’ betrayal is why Jesus died after all.

             
“Listen to this! Just close your eyes and listen,” Ben instructed. “This song reminds me of tonight.”

I glanced around nervous that I’d be trampled, and Ben seeing my concern placed his hands on my arms to steady me.

              “Now listen.” I closed my eyes. “Tell me. Who do these instruments remind you of?”

I listened to a wailing guitar- strong in some parts, softer in others. I realized somehow that the guitar wailed of loss and went back and forth between anger and acceptance.

              “Me,” I answered quietly.

             
“Good. Now who are you reminded of?” he asked again.

As soon as the solo was done, the bass guitar joined in. Its notes were steady and constant, not at all like the still up and down guitar. I realized that my friends were the bass- sources of reason and comfort in my emotional chaos.

              “Max and Brian,” I answered.

             
“Good. Keep going.” Ben’s hands were still on my shoulders keeping me steady in the crowd.

The drums then joined the group, the loud, fast beat threatening to steal the show and take over the bass and guitar. But, it didn’t, quieting down just enough, so that all the instruments worked in harmony, supporting the still chaotic guitar.

              “I hear you and George.”

I opened my eyes, understanding what Ben was trying to say. My friends would stand by me through this and help me move on. Ben’s eyes watched mine, and I simply nodded. He smiled, winking at me, and I sighed in acceptance. Sometimes it was difficult to fathom how I wound up so lucky, how I met such a wonderful group of friends. But, as soon as I opened up my mouth to speak, we heard noise from behind us.

              “Georgie!” A woman shouted from the crowd, waving her hands frantically, running towards my friend.

             
He closed the five steps between our distance, coming in close to Ben and me. “Oh, shit. We have a Stage Five clinger coming towards us. This chick won’t give up. I can’t even remember her,” George muttered to us. He looked up at me, his eyes pleading, slight pout on his lips.

             
I sighed in irritation. “You owe me. Big time.”

             
He smiled widely with relief. “You’re like an angel sent from above.”

             
I rolled my eyes before turning toward him. Ben, knowing what I was about to do, took a few steps back. We’ve done this routine so many times, I’ve lost count. I draped my arms over his neck as he dipped his head. Our cheeks pressed together, making it seem more than it really was, while his hands rested on my lower back.  I never did this around Ryan; I would never disrespect him in such a manner. But, I was single…for now. So, if I could help my friend out, why not? Besides this chick would just ruin our night. I had been enabling George and his man-whoring ways since we met. It never bothered me, because hugging him felt the equivalent of hugging my brother. There had never been an ounce of sexual tension between us. Ever.

             
”Georgie?” the woman asked. Her eyes asked the question that her mouth didn’t.

I turned towards her from my position, giving the petite girl a slow once over. I appeared haughty, seeming unimpressed.

              “I’m George’s girlfriend. And you are?”

             
“George?” she asked, her eyes furiously demanding an answer from him.

             
“This is…Abigail. She and I are old friends from college. She recently broke up with her boyfriend, and it… ignited our passion.”