Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin Page B

fifteen years now.
    Every summer her goal was to have a savage tan. Often we would
    lie out in her backyard with a big tub of Crisco, a bottle of Sun-In,
    and a garden hose for periodic relief. It was absolute torture. But I
    suffered through it believing that dark pigmentation was a virtue
    of sorts. My skin is pale like Claire's, so every day Darcy would
    surge further ahead.
    Claire remarks that cosmetic surgery won't cure skin cancer.
    "Oh, for Pete's sake!" Darcy says. "Stay under your damn hat
    then!"
    Claire opens her mouth and then closes it quickly, looking injured.
    "Sorry. I was just trying to help."
    Darcy shoots her a conciliatory smile. "I know, hon.
    Didn't mean
    to snap at you."
    Dex looks at me and makes a face, as if to say that he wishes both
    of them would shut up. It is the first direct communication we
    have had all day. I allow myself to smile back at him.
    His face
    breaks into a glorious grin. He is so handsome that it hurts. Like
    looking at the sun. He stands for a moment to adjust his towel,
    which has folded over in the wind. I look at his back and then
    down at his calves, feeling a surge of remembrance. He was in my
    bed. Not that I want a repeat performance. But oh, he has a nice
    body lean but broad. I am not a body person, but I still appreciate
    a perfect one. He sits back down just as I look away.
    Marcus asks if anybody wants to play Frisbee. I say no, that I am
    too tired, but what I am thinking is that the last thing I want to do
    is run around with my soft, white stomach poking out of my
    tankini. But Hillary is a taker and off they go, the portrait of two
    well-adjusted beach-goers leaving the rest of us to our trifling.
    "Hand me my shirt," Darcy says to Dex.
    "Please?"
    "The 'please' is a given," Darcy says.
    "Say it," he says, popping a cinnamon Altoid into his mouth.
    Darcy hits him hard in the stomach.
    "Ouch," he says in a monotone, to indicate that it didn't hurt in
    the slightest.
    She winds up to hit him again, but he grabs her wrist.
    "Try to behave. You're such a child," he says fondly.
    His edginess
    of this morning is gone.
    "I am not," she says, sidling over to his towel. She presses her
    fingers into his chest, poised for a kiss.
    I put on my sunglasses and look away. To say that what I am
    feeling is not jealousy is a stretch.
    That night we all go to a party in Bridgehampton. The house is
    huge with a beautiful L-shaped pool surrounded by gorgeous
    landscaping and at least twenty tiki torches. I scan the guests in
    the backyard, noticing all of the purple, hot pink, and orange
    dresses and skirts. It seems that every woman read the same
    "bright colors are in, black is out" article that I read. I followed the
    advice and bought a lime green sundress that is too vivid and
    memorable to wear again before August, which means it will cost
    me about one hundred and fifty dollars per wear. But I am pleased
    with my choice until I see the same dress, about two sizes smaller,
    on a slender blonde. She is much taller than I am, so the dress is
    shorter on her, exposing an endless stretch of bronzed thigh. I
    make a conscious effort to stay on the opposite side of the pool
    from her.
    I go to the bathroom, and on my way back to find Hillary, I get
    stuck talking to Hollis and Dewey Malone. Hollis used to work at
    my firm but quit the day after she got engaged to Dewey. Dewey is
    unattractive and humorless, but he has a huge trust fund. Hence
    Hollis's interest. It was amusing to hear Hollis explain to us that
    Dewey has such a "big heart," blah blah blah, trying in vain to
    disguise her true intentions. I am envious of Hollis's escape from
    firm hell, but I would rather be stuck billing than married to
    Dewey.
    "My life is so much better now," she chirps tonight.
    "That firm was
    poison! It was so stifling! I thought I might miss the intellectual
    stimulation but I don't. Now I have time to read the classics and
    think. It's great. So liberating."
    "Uh-huh That's nice," I say,