The Friends List

I never expected to write about these characters again, but the incomparable SpotintheSand suggested an idea for how to carry the story forward that I liked too much not to write about. I foresee this to be the first half of a two-part continuation of the story that opens four months after the previous chapter ended. Chapter 7 should be the last one, but who even knows at this point?

I owe a debt of gratitude to RawSilhouette and Alys21 for beta-reading the story and making many helpful suggestions.

It was a few days before Christmas of 2010, exams were finished, and I was nude in my bed with a drowsy Samantha Fischer relaxing in a post-orgasmic glow in my arms. The fall semester of my fourth year of my economics undergraduate degree at Queen's University was finally over, and tomorrow I was heading home to Guelph for the holidays. I'd had a good semester academically and socially, seeing friends, going to parties, maintaining decent grades while studying for my second try at the LSAT exam in February, and getting laid regularly.

Samantha had been my main, but not exclusive, partner during the four months that had just passed. We'd started sleeping together right at the end of the summer, and neither of us had expected it to be more than a one-time thing, but with both of us attending the same school and being single, it just, well, kept happening. Samantha had told me she'd wanted to let loose and sleep around in her first year, and I knew she'd done so to some extent, but I didn't ask questions and she didn't volunteer many stories about her outside exploits. As for me, I'd had a few one-night stands here and there, but Sam's easy accessibility, high libido, and 'up-for-anything' attitude had meant I rarely needed to go out and look for sex when I wanted it. We'd become friends with benefits, and I'd grown to really like her.

I mean,

really

like her.

I'd become conscious over the past few weeks that my feelings for her were developing into far more than I'd ever expected. We'd hung out regularly over the past four months even when we weren't sleeping together, and she'd quickly become one of my best friends. Sam was from a rich family, a beautiful girl, and my stepsister Vanessa's friend, and I'd grown up silently disliking and judging her from afar for being rich, beautiful and Vanessa's friend. But when I'd finally gotten to know her, starting when I gave her a tour of Queen's the summer before starting her university career, she turned out to be whip-smart, down to earth, caring, empathetic and plain-spoken. Lust and friendship had turned into what felt like it was rapidly on the path to love, and I lay there mustering up the courage to tell her how I felt about her. We hadn't seen each other for the past two weeks as we'd both focused on exams, and she was going away with her family to a resort in the Maldives over the Christmas break, so now seemed as good a time as any.

But she beat me to it.

"Peter?" She rolled to face me, her messy raven hair hanging loose around her pretty face. She was still glowing from her orgasms, and I thought she looked absolutely stunning.

"Mm-hmm?" I leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"I have something I'd like to talk about, if you're awake enough."

"Of course." My heart started beating a little faster.

"The past four months have been so good for me, being with you. I couldn't have asked for a better friend with benefits to learn from and practice having sex with. I'm so glad you managed to seduce me this past summer, and it's been so much fun hooking up with you over and over during the past semester. You're a skilful and creative lover. Thank you."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she put a finger over my lips.

"Let me finish, okay?"

I nodded.

"It's hard for me to say this, but..."

I looked her right in her dark eyes.

Was she?

"Tonight is going to have to be the last time having sex for us. I have a boyfriend."

"What?!"

"Yeah, I know!" She hugged me, clearly missing the point of my exclamation. "His name is Jacob. He's in my program, and I've been seeing him for about a month now. He's a nice Jewish boy from Thornhill, and last week he asked me to be exclusive; to be his girlfriend. I told him I wanted to wait until after Christmas break, because we were both knee-deep in exams, it was important to me to have one last roll in the hay with you tonight, and then I won't see him again until next term starts anyway. But as of the next time I see you, I'll be taken."

I felt crushed, but I didn't want to show it in front of Sam. "I'm happy for you," I managed after a long pause. "What happened to wanting to sleep around and stuff in first year?"

Sam shrugged. "I did. Enough to get it out of my system, anyway. It got boring really quickly. It's not hard finding mediocre sex in the dorms, but there's a reason I kept texting you so often. I never found anyone else half as good at getting me off as you are."

"So now you're dating a guy half as good as I am?"

Sam elbowed me. "I'm not kissing and telling, but I didn't include Jacob in that."

"And he makes you happy?"

She nodded. "So far, anyway. I've never really had a boyfriend before, not a real one, anyway. But he's saying and doing all the right things. He's from a good family. I think my parents are really going to like him. He ticks all the boxes for them."

"He's Jewish?"

"Conservative Jewish, from a good synagogue, just like us. His parents have mutual friends with my parents. He's in the same Social Justice program as me, for the same reasons. He's an idealist, he cares about doing good in the world. Besides, I'm ready to try dating for real, and there weren't any other boys asking."

My heart sank further as I momentarily debated telling her how I felt anyway, but I decided against it. Sam was acting like her decision was already long ago made, and I was still processing the shock. "So this is it, huh?"

"We can still be friends. Check that. I really want to still be friends. It means a lot to me to remain friends with you. You know how much I like hanging out with you." She leaned over and kissed me again. "But I think the 'with benefits' are going to have to end."

I must have looked as dejected as I felt, because Sam looked at me closely. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I lied. "It's just hard to imagine I'm never going to see this goddess body naked ever again." I looked up and down her curves and gently squeezed one of her breasts.

"You're such a boy," she laughed, swatting my hand away playfully. "I seem to remember exchanging dozens of highly pornographic pictures and videos with you over the past few months. I'm sure you've got plenty of spank bank material saved on your phone if you need a reminder what I look like."

She got out of my bed, doing a twirl and then posing nude for me one last time before finding her panties on the floor and starting to get dressed. "Again, you've been really good for me, Peter. Thank you. Wish Vanessa a Merry Christmas for me when you see her."

"I will. You're leaving? You don't want one more go?"

"You made me cum like six times tonight, Peter. I'm

done.

Besides, I have to get back to the dorm to finish packing. I'm leaving early tomorrow for the airport in Toronto. Hanukkah was early this year, so it's already over. It's not like we're missing the holidays we celebrate, and I'm really looking forward to seeing my family and getting some sunshine." She finished pulling her Queen's hoodie back on, stuffed her bra into her backpack, then kissed me one last time before heading for the door to my room for the short walk back to her dorm. "See you in January. We'll keep hanging out, I promise."

"Have a good trip. Happy Hanukkah."

"Merry Christmas." I heard her use the bathroom, then I heard her wishing a Merry Christmas to my roommate Steve before walking out into the frozen night. I sank into the bed, depressed.

Fuck.

I hadn't had a girlfriend in over a year now, and it wasn't until the last few weeks that I'd really started feeling like I was ready again. Casual sex was awesome, don't get me wrong, but after placing more than a dozen fresh notches on my bedpost since my last girlfriend Carmen had dumped me midway through third year, I was starting to miss being in love. I'd really thought Sam and I had a chance at something special, but someone named Jacob had apparently beaten me to it.

I shouldn't have, but I pulled my laptop out and navigated to Sam's Facebook page, scrolling through her extensive friends list until I found the guy. Jacob Goldberg was a first-year Social Justice major from Thornhill. His profile was pretty locked down, but he was a reasonably good-looking shaggy-haired guy with an unshaven Bohemian air about him, the total opposite of my well-dressed preppy look. I thought he looked a little bit like a Bolshevik revolutionary, with a little bit of Leon Trotsky in him. Did Sam like guys like that? What did he have that I didn't?

I spent the rest of the evening in my room feeling sorry for myself. The fall semester had flown by. I'd spent last summer sleeping my way through Vanessa's group of girlfriends. It had never been my intent of doing it in those exact words, but that had been the end result. Yet somehow, Vanessa and I had ended the summer with our relationship in a good place - teeteringly fragile, but good nonetheless. We'd finally started understanding each other over the course of the summer as I'd gotten closer to her and her friends, and while we still weren't besties by any stretch, we'd texted regularly throughout the semester and had as good a relationship now as we'd ever had before. We'd gotten drunk together at Thanksgiving and had a genuinely good time hanging out, and for the first time in my life I was actually looking forward to seeing her over Christmas, along with my Mom and stepdad.

As far as Vanessa's other friends went, I hadn't spoken to Natalie, Laura or Michelle since the pool party at Natalie's on Labour Day weekend. Kirsten was coming home from music school for Christmas with her drummer boyfriend, and while we hadn't talked often over the past months, we had made plans to jam while she was in town. And Monique... things were weird with Monique.

The last night of the summer, I'd discovered that Monique had had an all-consuming crush on me since her early teen years. We'd slept together that night, then again the next morning, and if you'd asked me then which of Vanessa's friends I'd be contemplating a relationship with four months later, she'd have been my pick. But we hadn't seen each other over the fall semester, and in fact we'd barely talked. She was distant whenever I had texted her, and after being rebuffed a few times, I eventually gave up trying. She'd always been my favourite of Vanessa's friends, and things had never been weird between us before, but they were weird now, and I was really hoping to see her over Christmas. I wasn't sure how I felt about her, but I needed to clear the air after a semester spent in the dark about where we stood with each other.

As it turns out, I didn't need to wait very long to find out. The next day I packed up my suitcase and headed for the train station for the trip home to Guelph. It was two and a half hours to Union Station in Toronto, a change of trains, and then a little under an hour home. The ride to Toronto was uneventful, and after we parked up at the station I went down the escalator into the arrival and departure hall, grabbing a quick bite to eat in the Go Transit terminal and then finding a long line already queuing for the last train of the evening to Guelph and points beyond. About halfway down the line, I saw a familiar face.

"Heading home too, huh?"

Monique turned to face me. Her ever-changing hair was now blue, but otherwise she looked the same as always, dressed down in a heavy winter jacket, jeans and combat boots and carrying a large suitcase and small backpack. Her face froze momentarily as she saw me, then she caught herself, indicating I should join her in line. I moved my suitcase into position, then turned to face her.

"Good semester?" I asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah, it was."

We stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.

"What happened between us?" I finally asked. "Did you get my texts?"

Monique looked around, as though she was confirming we weren't being eavesdropped upon. The couple ahead of us were engrossed in their own conversation; the girl behind had headphones on.

"Yeah, I did," she finally mumbled.

"And?"

"Last summer I sent you running after all my friends because I couldn't deal with my feelings like a grown-up, and then I ignored you for the last four months because I couldn't deal with my feelings like a grown-up. I'm sorry, Peter. I don't have an excuse for you, other than that I'm a messed-up failure of a person."

I pulled her into a hug. "You're not a failure, and I don't think you owe me an apology. We aren't and weren't together. I just would have liked to know you were okay."

"I'm okay." Just then the line started to move, and we started inching towards the escalator to take us up to the train. The conversation died off as we had our tickets scanned, then we climbed up into the carriage and found a place together on board.

Once we were finally seated, Monique turned to me. "I heard you've been hooking up with Samantha all semester long. I'm happy for you."

I sighed. "Yeah, it was fun. But I don't think it's going to keep happening. She's going exclusive with some guy named Jacob, apparently."

"She is?" Monique looked surprised. "I knew she was also casually seeing a guy named Jacob, but it's unusual she hasn't said anything about having a boyfriend in the group chat. I know she's going away over Christmas, but I'll have to message her."

"What about you? If you had a girlfriend this past semester, I'd have understood being ignored a little more."

"No girlfriend. No boyfriend, either." The train lurched into motion, and in the fading light I saw the towers of downtown Toronto glowing brightly as we departed.

"So then..."

Monique looked at me, but said nothing. I waited, but she didn't seem inclined to talk.

"Did I do something wrong?" I finally asked.

"No, you didn't." She sighed heavily. "I'll tell you the truth, but please don't be offended."

"I'll do my best."

She nodded. "You know how repressive my teen years were. You know how my crush on you was this all-encompassing thing that blocked me from dating boys. But I never really knew you as a person until last year. I was in love with the trope; the brooding, dark-eyed, hot older brother, the one who plays guitar and seems so cool and never talks to you. I think I told you last summer that you were unattainable, which made you safe to crush on. There's a reason teen girls lust after pop stars and stuff; it's because guys you can have for real are terrifying. I couldn't have you, so it was safe to want you. And all my repressed adolescent lust went into you.

"But when I finally started getting to know you as a person a couple of years ago, I realized you weren't at all like the version of you that existed in my head. You were actually friendly, empathetic, thoughtful, intelligent. And as I grew to really like you as a person and as a friend, there was a bipolar divide in my head. I was becoming friends with the real Peter, and I was deeply, secretly in love with the trope Peter."

"Okay..."

"When we hooked up the night of Natalie's pool party, the two Peters fused together in my head. And don't get me wrong, that night was incredible, but letting out all that teenage repression all at once scared the living fuck out of me. I went back to Toronto a changed woman. The elephant in the room moved out overnight. My crush on you isn't holding me back with men anymore, so that's a big positive. I've slept with other guys now and enjoyed it. But the idea of revisiting my feelings for you again after that night scared me, so I dealt with it by not dealing with it."

"I think that makes sense," I said after a minute. "If I'm too scary to be with, are you saying you just want to be friends? Or is this it for our friendship, too?"

"I want to be friends." Monique leaned over to me, nuzzling against me briefly before pulling back again. "I like you, Peter. But I don't know if I can handle the idea of dating you. Even the idea of sleeping with you again is scary. I don't think it would go well for me. If that's okay with you, then I don't want to do it again. I'm sure I sound like a bitch, using you for sex and to work out my own messed-up issues."

"It's okay with me-"

"Maybe someday," Monique interrupted, "once I'm not quite as much of an emotional basket-case, we can hook up again. But I'm really frightened of going back into the dark place in my head that sleeping with you means to me. And I promise you that's not personal. Deep down, it has nothing to do with you. It's about me, and how I dealt with being a teenage girl by not dealing with it."

"I think that makes sense."

"But I want you to know," she continued, "that I don't regret sleeping with you. It was an absolutely amazing night, and I needed to do it to move forward in my life. I'm just too messed up to contemplate doing it again."

"I'm not offended. To be honest, I don't know if I would hook up with you again, either. I think the idea of casual sex with a person who's liked me for that long is a little cruel. I saw what could happen with Laura last summer, sleeping with a girl who was in love with me and expecting it to stay casual, and I hated the fact that I really, deeply hurt her by assuming she could emotionally handle a one-night stand with a guy she'd always liked. I'll never make that mistake again. And I don't want a relationship with you, at least not now, not while we're long distance with no hope of that changing."

"Plus we're both still out on the prowl, huh?" Monique offered me a fist-bump.

"Yes, and no." I contemplated telling her, then decided.

What the hell. She just told me she didn't want me.

"The truth is, you know last night, when Samantha told me that she had a boyfriend? If she hadn't taken that exact moment to tell me that, I was about to tell her that I'd caught feelings for her."

"Oh! Wow. Jeez." Monique pulled away towards the aisle of the train, looking shocked as she stared at me. "You never told her, then? We've got another secret crush on our hands?"

I blushed. "I never did. And it seems like it, huh?"

"You've got a crush on the girl you hated for years?"

"I wouldn't say I ever hated her. I disliked the person I incorrectly thought she was. I fessed up to her about that back in September, so she'd hear it from me instead of third hand, and she said she got it. She's used to people unfairly judging her, and she appreciated the apology. We moved past it like adults."

"Hmmmm." Monique thought for a moment. "Let me find out if this new boyfriend is serious or not. Give me some time and I'll report back to you."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course!"

"For me, the guy you liked for years? The first guy you ever slept with? The one you used to dream about being his girlfriend? Just like that, you're going to try to get me into a relationship with someone else?"

Monique shrugged. "I like a challenge. And like I said just now, I don't want you as a boyfriend, and it sounds like you don't want me as a girlfriend, either. We're better as friends. Plus, I think you and Samantha would be great together. She's just as smart as you are, and she's more than willing to call you out on your bullshit. Laura would have put up with anything from you."

I debated being offended, but Monique was right. I loved Sam constantly challenging me, keeping me on my toes and making me question my assumptions. She was a brilliant devil's advocate and sparring partner, and it was one of my favourite things about her, right up there with her brilliant smile, her soft dark hair and her spectacular tits.