Take A Picture (It'll Last Longer)

The next morning I woke up and I was in my bed at home. I didn’t remember how I got there but I did have an inkling as to why my head was hurting so badly. Once we had finished discussing how our whole marriage charade was going to work out Ben and I had gotten into another one of our childish fights about which is better, Guinness or Bud Lite and he ended up drinking me under the table, mainly because you can drink me under the table after two and a half beers. I didn’t remember anything else after the bartender told Ben to make sure his girlfriend puked outside not on his freshly cleaned bar. I staggered into my kitchen and the smell of fried eggs and bacon filled my nostrils, making me want to puke. For a second, I thoroughly believed that my breakfast was magically cooking itself.

“Good morning, love,” Ben’s chipper voice said.

“Um…Ben?” I said, managing to find a chair in my kitchenette, “What are you doing in my apartment?”

“Making you breakfast,” Ben shrugged.

“Let me rephrase that question,” I sighed, “Why are you not at your apartment. You know, where you live?”

“Because you practically begged me to stay,” Ben replied.

“Let’s try the truth this time,” I grimaced.

“I’m serious!” Ben said, flipping a badly made pancake. “I took you home last night because you totally can’t hold your alcohol and the next thing I know, you’ve put yourself in your pajamas and you’re begging me to stay with you so you won’t turn into Jimi Hendrix!”

“I asked you to stop me from turning into Jimi Hendrix?” I said skeptically.

“Yeah. You kept telling me to stop you from turning into Jimi Hendrix. You said you didn’t want to choke on your own vomit and die…” Ben sighed. “And I felt bad because you were making some seriously weird gagging noises, not to mention holding onto me really tightly… and I did take you out and get you smashed so you’d marry me…”

“So you stayed over?” I said, annoyed.

“You asked me to whether you remember it or not!” Ben said defensively. “Besides, you wanted this to look believable, remember?” I sighed tiredly.

“Did you sleep in Elle’s old room?” I asked him.

“No,” Ben replied. “There was no bed in there. It’s just bare…”

“Please tell me you slept on the couch,” I frowned. Ben looked at me really pained.

“You wouldn’t let me leave you!” Ben said in a panic. “I protested and protested but then you started laying on the guilt about how you were going to choke on your puke and… we both kept our clothes on the entire time! I swear!”

“Ben! I was drunk! Why were you listening to me?” I growled.

“Some thanks I get!” Ben muttered like an angry housewife. “Drag you home, half gone, put you to bed, save you from choking on vomit, make you breakfast, and I get screamed at…”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” I sighed, “but it’s no picnic having a hangover either.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Ben snorted. “Besides, it wasn’t a repeat of what happened after you and Jon broke up…”

I froze. I had totally forgotten about that until he brought it up. Definitely not one of my finer moments, that one. I had just confronted Jon for cheating on me with the same number of people in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and then I had gone out and bled the entire city of Chicago dry of booze. Ben had just eaten a whole bunch of Kip’s “special brownies”, not realizing what they were, and I had shown up at his place because I couldn’t go back to the dorms that night. I was drunk and sobbing and he was high and didn’t even know it and…well… one thing led to another and when we were woke up we were both so embarrassed that we didn’t talk to each other for a week. It was like I slept with my brother...

Okay. It was much better than sleeping with your brother. Much better.

The freaky thing was Ben was good. Not just good. Really good. I actually contemplated going back for some more before determining it wasn’t in the best interest of our friendship. I’ve never been in to that whole “friends with benefits” thing, mainly because every time Elle’s tried it, she’s ended up miserably heart broken.

“Oh, by the way,” Ben said nonchalantly, “Kip is coming over to eat breakfast with us. He’s got some fantastic news, apparently.”

“You told Kip that you spent the night at my place? You know that he likes to jump to conclusions!” I hissed.

“I didn’t tell him I’d stayed over here,” Ben shook his head. “I told him that I passed out in your lobby last night and then came up here and you let me eat breakfast…”

“And he believed that?” I snorted.

“Catt, Kip believed that Star Trek was based on actual events,” Ben snorted. “I think I know how gullible my own roommate is.” As if on cue, there came a heavy pounding at the door I knew could only be Kip. I walked over and opened the door, forgetting I was in my pajamas, a.k.a. the shirt I wore yesterday and some underwear.

“If only I could get you to greet me like this everyday,” Kip said to me with a grin.

“If I had more energy I’d shove you off my balcony,” I sighed before letting him in. Kip made his way over to the kitchen and swiped the plate Ben had just made for me.

“What’s up?” Ben asked him curiously.

“Guess who just got a promotion!” Kip grinned.

“My assistant Holly?” I asked hopefully. Kip glared at me, as if I wasn’t invited to participate in the conversation taking place in my own kitchen.

“No, toots. Me!” Kip smiled. Another thing about Kip, he’s a total male chauvinist pig. His favorite joke? Women’s rights. Yeah. I want to punch him every time I see him.

“Promotion?” Ben said, annoyed. He was up for that promotion and he’s twice as good a photographer as Kip. “Where?”

“New York City!” Kip grinned. “So, I already ducked us out of our lease…”

“Um…what?” Ben said. “Where am I going to live?”

“I don’t know… you need a roommate, right toots?” Kip asked me. I slapped the back of his head and took back my breakfast plate.

“Yeah,” I said. “So what?”

“It’s settled then. You can move in with toots here,” Kip said to Ben.

“Nothing is settled,” I grimaced.

“Yes it is,” Ben said to me. “We agreed we were moving in together before Kip here even showed up.”

“Wait…” Kip said, utterly confused. “Why are you moving in with toots?”

“Quit calling me that,” I seethed. “I’m standing right here!”

“Did you know I was getting the promotion?” Kip asked horrified.

“No,” Ben said, “and believe me, I am not that thrilled that you would have ducked out of our lease without letting me know.”

“Are the two of you…” Kip said looking between us suspiciously.

“No!” I said at the same time as Ben said “Yes.”

“Which is it?” Kip asked confused.

“We’re getting married on Saturday,” Ben replied authoritatively, not giving me a moment to speak.

“When were you going to tell me that valuable piece of information?” Kip asked him curiously.

“When we were you planning on telling me that you had gotten rid of our apartment?” Ben asked him challengingly.

“By the way, your stuff is in boxes down in your car. I drove it over here,” Kip said. If Ben had been a cartoon character, he would have had steam coming out of his ears. “You guys hooked up senior year, right? I thought toots here was riding you like a cowgirl. You don’t go out and get drunk with a girl three times a week if you aren’t getting something out of it…”

“Kip, shut the fuck up,” Ben said curtly. Kip drew back for a second, but no longer.

“I seriously think you should have told me though,” Kip continued. “I never spare any details in talking about my escapades…”

“I wish you would spare the details,” Ben grumbled. “We were keeping it quiet…”

“I guess your parents don’t exactly approve, huh?” Kip said, leering at me. “She isn’t their type… is she?”

“Hello! Sitting right here!” I yelled at him.

“Kip, I think you better go,” Ben said, annoyed. Kip nodded, grabbed the bacon right out of the pan and then headed for the door. He turned and looked at us over his shoulder.

“By the way, Benny Boy,” Kip said, “if you get a chance after you’re done making breakfast, you might want to ask Catt to take your balls out of her purse and give them back to you.” Kip shut the door behind himself and Ben made himself a plate of what appeared to be pancakes and eggs.

“Why is he your friend again?” I asked curiously.

“I don’t really know,” Ben sighed. “He just is. He’s like a parasite…”

“Just like a parasite,” I snorted. “By the way, when you’re done cleaning this mess up, you have my full permission to get your balls back.”

“Thank you,” Ben said before drinking the remainder of the orange juice straight from the bottle.

“Why did you say all that to Kip to begin with?” I asked him.

“Did you really want me to be all pathetic and cry because I lost my apartment?” Ben snorted. “Besides, things are falling into place here. I need a place to live, you need a roommate, I need to stay in this country, and apparently you need someone to stop sleazy guys like Kip from hitting on you…”

“I handled myself rather well, thank you very much,” I snorted. Ben rolled his eyes and basically inhaled his pancakes. “So, why are your parents going to hate me?”

“Um… maybe because you’re not British?” Ben shrugged.

“Ben,” I said. When he lies, his eyes dart back and forth and Ben’s eyes were going back and forth so fast, you’d think he was watching Wimbledon. “Be honest here…”

“My parents are…well… picky…” Ben said nervously. “They like certain people and everyone else they dislike. Like me! They hate me. Therefore, on principle, they hate everything I like.”

“Could you be a bit more vague?” I snorted. Ben sighed.

“To put it simply, my parents… they liked Brigit…” Ben began.

“They like a girl who treated you like dirt?” I said with raised eyebrows.

“The fact that Brigit was a complete slag wasn’t the reason why they liked her,” Ben shook his head. “They liked her because they liked her parents…”

“So, they’re going to hate my parents? Do you know that instinctively?” I asked. Ben shrugged. I knew he didn’t like talking about his parents, but he was acting ridiculous. I sighed. “Fine, if you don’t want to tell me. Don’t.”

“Okay,” Ben said cheerily before kissing my cheek and grabbing up the breakfast dishes. “So, I’m going to move my stuff in after work and then we can throw together the most God-awful going away party in existence for Kip. How about that?”

“Hunky dory,” I grumbled.