Ten Trends to Seduce Your Bestfriend

“Why do you feel guilty? You have nothing to feel guilty about.” Amelia pulled her coat tighter around her neck as we stepped off the bus. Byron’s house was three blocks from the bus stop.

“I wish I’d never told Jeff that I’d liked him, and I most especially wish that I’d never told him I’d liked him for a while. That was a big mistake.”

Amelia heaved a noisy sigh. “I don’t think it was a mistake. It was brave and emotionally mature.” She switched the wine bottle bag to her other hand and hooked our arms together as we set off across the street. “As long as I’ve known you, Jeff is the only guy you’ve ever liked or lusted after.”

“I’ve never lusted after him.” Jeff was cute and handsome and kind, but I’d never fantasized about him or objectified him. First, it would be inappropriate since he’d almost always had a girlfriend. And second, in the past, when I thought about Jeff, I thought about how much I respected and related to his love of teaching and enjoyed his company. I loved that he was always so friendly, polite, kind, and patient. I’d never heard him raise his voice, not once. My feelings for him had been based on admiration, not lust.

“But you said once—though you were totally drunk—that you wouldn’t mind losing your V-card to him. That’s big.”

I huffed. “Can we not talk about that?” I hated that being a virgin at twenty-six was considered weird by society when it felt perfectly natural to me. It wasn’t my fault I’d never met a person I wanted to have sex with who also wanted to have sex with me. I wasn’t saving myself for marriage or for the perfect guy. I wanted to have sex! But I didn’t want to have sex just to have sex. “My point is, there’s a time for bravery and then there’s a time for caution and wisdom. It was a mistake to tell Jeff the truth.”

“Win—”

“No. I should’ve waited until I knew for sure he and Lucy were over, when I was one hundred percent certain of his feelings. That would’ve been wise. Now I’ve gone and made things awkward between us, possibly forever.”

“And you feel guilty about it?”

“I feel something like guilt.” I steered us around a puddle. “But not quite guilt.”

Embarrassment, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, I wanted it to stop. I hated confrontation. I wanted to be friends with Jeff again, and I wanted to feel like myself again.

“You shouldn’t feel anything like guilt. Think about it this way: Lucy has never made any effort to befriend Jeff’s friends, and she broke things off with Jeff for two months. And Jeff made the first move with you three weeks ago. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

“But I almost sorta kinda went on a date with someone else’s current boyfriend.” I looked both ways before crossing the next street.

Cars in Seattle were pretty good about stopping for pedestrians but, interestingly, bicyclists were not. Especially not the MAMILs (Middle Aged Men In Lycra) and especially not in this neighborhood, where the MAMILs were plentiful but not varied.

“He was single at the time!” She groaned. “You are so stubborn about this kind of stuff. I’ve never met anyone with more rigid ideas about right and wrong—apart from maybe Byron. Except you are too hard on yourself and he’s too hard on everyone else.”

She was missing the point. “Jeff and I have been friends for years, and he’s been dating Lucy the whole time, except for those two months. It was irresponsible of me—”

“They’ve broken up several times before, this wasn’t the first.”

“Even so, I feel like I’ve broken the sacred tenets of both woman and friend code.” I hiked the strap of my purse higher on my shoulder as we approached a hill that ran the entire length of the block. “My instinct since they got back together is to avoid him. I haven’t wanted to see or talk to Jeff at all.”

“So then why are we going to this dinner party?”

“Because every time prior to yesterday when I thought about our lost chance, I felt a pang of restlessness and sadness. I don’t want to feel that way anymore.” As much as I hated confrontation, I hated it when things were unsettled and uncomfortable even more. It reminded me of walking on eggshells around my uncle, never knowing when he was about to explode. “I don’t want to feel awkward around him. Our chance meeting yesterday helped me dispel some of the bad feelings and I’m hopeful that if we go tonight, then maybe we can befriend Lucy.”

Amelia seemed to huff, although the heavy breath could’ve been caused by the sharpness of the incline. “Let me guess, the sadness only makes you feel worse because you’re mourning the loss of a chance with someone who has a girlfriend, and then you feel something like guilt for these very natural thoughts and feelings.”

“Exactly. And then it makes me feel gross about myself. He ditched me the first time she texted. Like, where is my pride?” Bah! Feelings. They are the worst. “I want to see them together, all reconciled and in love. I want to be happy for my friend. I need to get over the idea of Jeff. And it’s frustrating because it’s not like I have this burning desire to be in a relationship with anyone. I don’t even want a boyfriend. I don’t even have time for a pet rock. I have too much going on.”

“Okay, I get it.” She nodded, huffing and puffing as we crested the hill. “And I have your back. We’ll go in, eat the free food, circulate around the room, eat the free food, do our best to make Lucy like us, eat the free food, and then leave—maybe with doggie bags.”

I snorted as we trudged up the stairs at the front of the property. Amelia would travel all the way to Spokane for free food.

Byron’s front yard was less of a traditional yard and more of a winding path with two flights of stairs around four ancient cedar trees and all manner of ferns and bushes. You could barely see the house from the road even though it—like the cedars—was massive. The dude owned a one-hundred-year-old legit mansion.

Likewise, when you made it to the front porch (which was huge, by the way) and looked out toward the road, you didn’t see the road as the house was so high up. You saw the trunks of ancient cedar trees, all manner of ferns and bushes, sky, and on a clear day, the Cascades. It must’ve felt like living in the middle of Seattle while also being in the middle of a forest.

When we finally trekked all the way to the porch, I lowered the hood of my coat as Amelia caught her breath, then stepped forward and rang the doorbell.

“I didn’t text Byron that we were coming. Maybe I should—”

Before Amelia could finish her thought, the door swung open, revealing Lucy’s smiling face, which morphed precipitously into a not smiling face. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hi Lucy,” I said brightly. “I’m Winnie, this is Amelia.”

Her stony stare moved between us. “I know who you are.”

“Uh. Okay. Well, thank you for having us.”

“Excuse me?” She reared back slightly, her frown severe.

“Uhh. . .” I glanced at Amelia.

My roommate stood frozen, like she didn’t know what to do. Or maybe she hoped by not moving Lucy wouldn’t notice her next to me.

“Oh! You’re here.” Jeff burst forward, circumventing his openly hostile-looking girlfriend and bent to give me and then Amelia a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for coming, come on in.”

But when he stepped back, Lucy still blocked entry with her body, her gaze incendiary. “You invited them?”

“Yeah. The more the merrier.” He shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by her obvious displeasure.

Amelia and I swapped a quick glance, communicating the entirety of our shared thoughts in a single second.

“We don’t—we can leave.” Amelia pointed behind us. I didn’t miss how she gripped the wine to her side protectively.

“No. Don’t be silly. Thanks for coming,” Jeff repeated, beaming.

“Yeah. Thanks for showing up,” Lucy ground out. “We’ll need to add a few more plates, but I’m sure I can find some paper ones for the kitchen table. The dining room is already full.”

“Lucy!” He sounded shocked but also amused.

“Well, I’m sorry, Jeff. But you didn’t tell me you’d invited anyone. And I’ve been planning this for a week.”

Yikes.

I backed up a step, holding my hands out. “We don’t have to stay—”

“No, no.” Lucy finally relinquished her defensive position, motioning that we should come in, and heaved a harassed sigh. “It’s not your fault. Sorry, I’m being rude. I wish he’d told me.”

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal.” Jeff put his arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck. “Come on, baby. Let them stay.”

“I already said it’s fine.” She removed his hands from her body and shot him a hard look as Amelia and I reluctantly stepped inside.

“We brought wine,” Amelia said, handing over the bag to Lucy.

Lucy immediately passed the bag to Jeff. “I’m allergic to phosphates. I don’t drink wine.”

“Do you mean sulfites?” Amelia asked. “Wine doesn’t have phosphates.”

“Anything unnatural, it makes me sick,” Lucy snapped, her eyes slicing to me, like maybe I was full of sulfites and made her sick.

“Ooo-kay. Well, maybe Jeff and Byron can use it for spaghetti sauce then,” Amelia said using her most chipper of voices, adding, “It also has medicinal uses, like numbing pain.”

Uncertain if we should stay or go, I removed my coat in slow motion, casting a glance at Amelia to gauge her thoughts. She’d already shucked her rain jacket and walked to the front closet. Retrieving two hangers, she motioned me over.

“Uh, excuse us.” I hurried to my friend’s side.

“Sure thing,” Lucy said flatly, clearly still irritated, not that I blamed her.

“Trouble in paradise,” Amelia whispered, nudging my shoulder. “But then they’re always like this, aren’t they?”

“I don’t blame her for being irritated. She obviously planned this dinner, and he didn’t tell her we were coming.” I snuck a glance over my shoulder, jolting when I spotted Lucy glaring at me—at me, not Amelia—like I’d strangled her pet snake. Hastily, I hung up my coat. “Maybe we should leave before dinner. I’ll fake a leg cramp.”

“No! I was promised free food. We’re staying for the whole thing.” Amelia also looked over her shoulder, whispering, “Plus, Jeff should be allowed to invite his friends if he wants. . . Hey. Why is she staring at you like that?”

I shrugged, not needing or wanting to look again. “I don’t know.”

“Oh no,” Amelia said on a breath and turning back to me. “You don’t think Jeff told Lucy about the two of you?”

“What would he tell? Nothing happened.”

Her frown turned anxious. “He kissed you and licked your face.”

“Not in a sexy way!”

“Shh!” She grabbed my hand and we weaved through the twenty or so people already gathered—none of whom we recognized—and further into Byron’s house. Huddling close to each other near the fireplace, we gave our backs to where Lucy and Jeff were standing.

“All I know is I should’ve kept the bottle of wine.” Amelia braced a hand on the mantel, inspecting the pictures there even though several were of her and Byron, and she’d been responsible for having most of them printed and framed. “That wine cost me twenty-four dollars.”

“Whoa. Big spender.”

“Well, I thought—you know—I’d bring something nice. Next time he’s getting a two-buck chuck.”

Unable to help myself, I let my gaze wander back to where Lucy and Jeff were standing earlier. Sure enough, they still stood at the door, arguing. She wasn’t glaring at me anymore, but she did sweep her hand in my direction, making no attempt to disguise her unhappiness in front of their guests. And though she was visibly upset, he still seemed unconcerned.

Actually . . . no. He seemed really happy, smiling his charming smile like he enjoyed coaxing her into a better mood.

Huh. Was Amelia right? Had they always been like this? I’d rarely seen them together, but since Amelia spent so much time with Byron, and Byron and Jeff had been roommates since college, it was likely she’d also spent a significant amount of time with Jeff and Lucy.

“Where is Byron?” Amelia cut into my thoughts, fitting our hands together.

“You didn’t actually expect him to be down here, did you? There’s . . . people. And the room is well-lit.” I didn’t expect to see him at all.

“Did you two connect yet? About the next video?”

“Not yet,” I hedged.

“How many people did she invite? There must be twenty or more people here, not including our hosts. And where are we all going to sit?” Amelia craned her neck, presumably counting everyone in the living room—where we stood—and all the people visible across the entryway in the parlor. Beyond the parlor and to the right was the dining room, which housed a huge antique mahogany table. But she was right, it only sat sixteen people maximum.

I shrugged, my eye caught by two guys across the room next to the liquor cabinet. Dressed in khakis and button-down shirts, they were checking us out, and I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

Both relatively tall and fit, they had a pallor that told me they worked out in a gym and not outside. One had auburn hair close to my color, just a little darker, with pretty brown eyes and a smirky-looking smile. The other had blond hair, blue eyes, and a sandy-colored, close-cropped beard.

As a rule, I didn’t usually mind being checked out regardless of who was doing the checking. I’d spent a good amount of time getting ready for tonight, flat ironing my hair, applying dinner-party-appropriate makeup, and this was one of my favorite dresses. A black wraparound with three-quarter sleeves, the deep V neck did quality things for my boobs.

But these guys were probably Lucy’s friends and worked with her at the law firm. After the unpleasantness at the door and how distasteful she found our presence, I didn’t particularly want to upset her further.

Free, tasty food made the awkwardness of the evening and missing our Friday game of Stardew Valley almost worth it. Almost.

Lucy had been pointedly unpleasant whenever we interacted, and I began to suspect Jeff must’ve told her something misleading about me and our blip of an afternoon together before they’d reconciled. Maybe not an outright lie—I didn’t think he’d do that—but perhaps a variation of the truth? Something to make my presence here tonight upsetting for her. All of this reinforced that staying single forever was likely my best option for a happy, fulfilling life.

Thankfully, Lucy had been called away each time we bumped into each other to deal with seating arrangements or some related subject, sparing me her glares and Jeff’s fumbling attempts to unruffle her feathers while also working overtime to be nice to me in front of his girlfriend! What was wrong with him?

Instead of sitting at the dining room table together, the guests were instructed to take turns and eat in shifts. That part was weird at first, but in the end, it all worked out.

Amelia and I spent most of the evening hanging out with two lovely women. Danielle Hardy Socier was in her last year of medical school and Olivia Canelli was a hugely successful yoga fitness guru who also practiced non-contact therapeutic touch, or NCTT.

We made a cheerful foursome and exchanged numbers when it was our turn to sit at the dining room table, splitting Amelia’s twenty-four-dollar bottle of wine between the four of us and making a toast each time we drank. We took turns regaling each other with best-of and worst-of camping trip stories.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” I whispered to Amelia during a pause in our merry conversation.

“Where are you going?” She caught my hand, holding me in place.

I turned to Olivia and Danielle. “Anyone else need to use the ladies’ room?” The wine plus three glasses of water plus all those vegan dishes had finally caught up with me.

Our new friends shook their heads and Danielle said, “I’ll save you a piece of the apple crisp. I’ve had it before and it’s so good.”

Amelia, still holding my hand, looked pointedly over my shoulder and then back to me. “Use the bathroom on the second level. It’s on the right at the top of the stairs. There’s probably a line for the one down here, so avoid it.”

I surreptitiously glanced over my shoulder. Ah! So Jeff and Lucy were blocking the path to the bathroom on this level and Amelia wanted to spare me a run-in.

“Thank you,” I said, squeezing her hand before we both let go.

Keeping my back to where Lucy and Jeff hovered, I strolled to the back stairs. The house had two staircases—a grand, front stairway with a huge, carved newel post adorned by a bronze and marble art deco sculpture lamp, and a servants’ stairway adorned by nothing but a serviceable banister and lit by a single wall sconce. I’d never used either of the stairways, as I’d never been to the second level, but I knew where they were located.

The door behind me closed, muffling the chatter of the party, and I climbed the narrow, carpeted flight, unable to stop myself from wondering about the oddness of the evening.

I couldn’t help but wonder why Jeff would say anything about me to Lucy. Nothing had happened between us. And if he had said something to Lucy that upset her, why ask me and Amelia to dinner tonight? And why not tell his girlfriend he’d asked us? Why surprise her? Especially when she’d worked so hard on making the dinner party nice.

The whole thing was confusing and weird and distracting, which is why I think I can be excused for following Amelia’s directions, opening the first door on the right I encountered, and startling myself upon seeing a shirtless, underwear-clad Byron Visser. Gasping. And then slamming the door shut in my own face.