“I can’t believe I said yes. What was I thinking?” I grumble to my best friends as I wave at the umpteenth car that has overtaken me, motioning toward the smoking exhaust. I grimace and shrug apologetically. It’s not like I don’t know my car is on its last legs. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just the stubborn rust holding it together, but I can’t afford a new one and it does still get me from A to B.
“That you deserve a night out? That to dress up all glamorous and fancy might be fun? Or that dreamy Dr David just might be hot enough to knock Joel off of that pedestal you’ve set him on? Which one of those weren’t you thinking?” Harper asks flatly and without a trace of irony. It’s an unusual predicament, and even if I don’t agree with all of what she’s saying, she has a point. Why is this even an issue? I’m single, and I’ve never been to a ball.
“Trust me, Joel is not on a pedestal,” I clarify with my sternest tone. I can’t stare her down with added emphasis on the subject, since I’m also navigating my little car through the heavy Chicago traffic on the way to work.
“And yet you can’t seem to keep those legs together,” Cameron pipes up from the back seat. His salacious lilt may be joking, but I can’t even argue since he isn’t lying.
“Not because he’s on a pedestal, more because I appear to be a slut.”
“One swallow doth not make a summer.” Cameron articulates in his best attempt at Shakespearian English. My jaw drops, mortified at his lewd double entendre. My face flashes so red with instant heat, I’m sure I’ve warmed the chilly interior of the car by several degrees. My narrowed gaze fixes on Cameron in the rear view mirror.
“Eh, Regan, it’s always the quiet ones.” Cameron wiggles his brow and knowingly nudges Harper through the small gap between the front seats. She’s already in fits of laughter. “You just gave me a boner, but we’ve been over this. Fucking one guy does not make you a slut.” He ruffles my hair playfully.
“But he’s not my boyfriend.” I swat his hand away and try to smooth the ponytail.
“And if we were in a Jane Austen novel, it would be quite the scandal,” Harper mocks and reaches her hand to my thigh to squeeze some softness into her assessment of my non-love life. “Look, Regan, no one in this car is judging you for getting some. Hell, it would be a crime if you didn’t tap that, so don’t beat yourself up for enjoying yourself. Not every relationship has to have a label.”
“It’s not a relationship.” I add, hating the wishful tinge my voice holds.
“You have history, so it’s not just a hook-up, either.” Harper is irritatingly insightful, and I flash a glance her way; she heard the tinge.
“At worst, you’re friends with benefits, and if that was the case you should be getting more action than you do. Trust me, your sex life is more than a little tragic.” Cameron pats my shoulder, the condescension thick and a little depressing.
“Tragic?”
“You’re smart, sexy, and in your sexual prime.”
“Actually, I read somewhere that British women reach their sexual peak in their mid thirties.” I explain, entirely missing the point.
“I think that’s a myth or a very old study, besides you’re an honorary Yank. And trust me, you are in your prime.” Cameron grins, and I take the compliment as best I can with a brief nod and a slight change of subject.
“I’m ashamed for how little self-control I have. It’s like starting a diet or a new fitness regimen. Every Monday I’m determined to resist, I have my mental anti-Joel patch, and yet…” I slap an imaginary patch on my upper arm.
“I think you need to put that patch somewhere else if you’re really trying to avoid penetration.” Harper scoffs.
“Do they still make chastity belts?” Cameron asks.
“They do. Very effective as a punishment in the BDSM lifestyle, I believe.” I blurt and roll my own eyes at my big mouth.
“Always the quiet ones.” Harper repeats Cameron’s comment from earlier, and they both chuckle at my expense.
“You know, I always forget your kinky streak.” Harper says after she’s finished laughing. She sighs and continues to look at me with curious eyes.
“Another gift from Joel that keeps on giving.” It’s not something I shared, not the details at least. I had no idea what I’d like when I started down that path with Joel, but one thing I learnt very quickly was that some things are best kept private. Not everyone understands the marks, and despite reassurances, even best friends worry.
“I’m intrigued. What other gifts are you referring to? Harper and Cameron both lean closer to me as if I’m about to share some juicy titbit.
“Shh. Okay, we’re nearly here. Not a word.” I place my finger over my lip, ending all talk of Dr Prescott. I drive us close to the entrance of the hospital and into the basement car park. Since the Christmas Eve break-in incident, Joel lets me use his reserved space in the staff car park. My car isn’t big, and he can easily fit his flashy Ducati Superleggera motorbike beside my car.
“We’re still in the car, Regan. People won’t hear us talk over the sound of your exhaust dying,” Harper points out with a wry arch of her brow.
“You’re funny, and you could’ve gotten the train.” I drive slowly around the basement and pull into Joel’s empty space.
“And miss the midmorning banter? Never,” Harper quips. “I have to say, it is impressive you two have kept your secret in this place.”
“That’s because only you two know, and I trust you.” I ease the handbrake up, careful not to pull too hard. I fear the thing will come away in my hand. I really need a new car.
“And Joel, you must trust him too.”
Harper tries to hold our eye contact. I chicken out and lean over the back of my seat to fetch my bag, dismissing her inquisitive statement with a noncommittal, “I guess.” I push the door wide and jump from the car. “Okay, later, guys. Love you.” After locking the car, I hug Cameron and Harper in turn.
“You want me to bring some of my ball gowns over later?”
“You have more than one?”
“I have more than you, unless you want to go in your birthday suit.”
“I’d definitely want to go, if you do.”
“Cameron!”
“As a chaperone. You’re like a sister, Regan!” He winks and shakes his mischievous head at Harper.
“I saw that.”
“I’m a man.” He holds up his hands, either in his defence or by way of surrender.
“A poor excuse that’s entirely overused, Cameron. Not that my low opinion of your gender needed any ammunition, but I thought better of you,” Harper replies, and I’ve already started to move off. If these two get into it, I’ll never get to work.
“Ah, Harper, you know I love you best.” He tugs her stiff frame into his all-encompassing bear hug until she yields and hugs him back.
“I heard that too,” I call out.
“You are both my favourite ladies.” He releases his hold and waves to me. Harper does the same, and they both disappear up the ramp to work or wherever.
“Bye,” I call out and hit the elevator button.