Page 49 of Hello Darling
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I really dig keeping this a secret, for some reason. In a small community like mine, being able to keep a relationship secret is a rare and wonderful thing. Wait—did I just use the word “relationship?!” Fling. Fling-thing. Fling-a-ling-a-ding-dong.
We’re really good at flinging together.
People at the gym are starting to notice that we stand just a little too close and stare at each other just a little too long. People assume I have a crush on him. Billy and Keaton and my dad keep asking me what I’ve been doing with myself lately—why do I seem so happy, they wonder. I tell them I’ve been practicing a lot of yoga at home, drinking more green tea than usual and that they should mind their own business. They know exactly what I’ve been up to, of course, and they know I’ll never tell. Evan seems to be keeping up his end of the bargain too, so far…
God. I get so little sleep and I’m in a sex haze all the time, and just thinking phrases like “keeping up his end of the bargain” immediately makes me think of the tip of his cock and the way he’s groaned when I’ve slid it into my mouth, the way he’s made me groan when he presses it between my legs, teasing and torturing me before finally inserting himself so deep inside of me, that dull pain that morphs and quickly fills me with a kind of pleasure that erases everything else.
That’s what I’m thinking about when I’m at the deli again after a couple of days, when Mrs. Flauvich is talking to the lady from the library about how her daughter told her that there are pictures all over the internet this morning of Evan Hunter and Jess King, the actress playing his love interest, hugging on Main Street and you can see part of the deli’s awning in the background. They’re on set, acting out a scene of course, but someone took pictures with their phone and the celebrity gossip sites and Twitter are supposedly flipping out about how Evan has moved on from Georgia, and wondering if “JessEvan” will be the next It Couple.
I remember a time when all Mrs. Flauvich talked about was pie, Port Gladstone city council meetings and how to remove sun-baked seagull poop from her awning.
“What did I say? I wish I had bet money on it—look at this! He’s already PDA-ing with the actress.” She holds up her iPad to show me and Library Lady.
“What’s ‘PDA-ing’?” I ask.
“Public displays of affection…ing”
“It’s just a rebound,” shrugs Library Lady.
“You don’t even know about Evan Hunter,” shushes Mrs. Flauvich.
“I don’t have to. I know men and if it’s only been a few weeks since he was dumped then he’s not in a real relationship with this next girl. His penis is. Doesn’t matter if he’s a movie star or a fisherman. That’s men. That’s penises.”
Yup. That’s right. I’m in a secret casual non-permanent relationship with movie star Evan Hunter’s penis and he is in a rebound relationship with my fanny and every single part of me is fine with that.
Totally, completely fine with it.
On my way back to the deli, in the rain, I feel my phone vibrate and duck under an awning, hoping it’s a text from Evan.
It’s a text from my best girlfriend Mona, in Portland.
Mona: Hey stranger! Long time no talk! Also—have you seen Evan Hunter around town? Asking for my Grandma.
Mona: Okay that’s a lie. Asking for me. Don’t tell Rob I think he’s HAWT.
Okay, maybe it would feel good to just tell one person. Just one out of town person so I’ll have someone to talk to when it’s over, and years from now when my tits are starting to sag and I’m up to my wrinkled elbows in laundry and PTA meetings, I can call Mona up and be like: “Remember that time I was having sex with that British movie star? That was real, right? It wasn’t all just some long weird Halloween hangover dream?”
I text her asking if she can FaceTime in private, ie. the ladies room in her office, and I go to my parked car behind the gym.
It is so good to see my friend’s beautiful dorky face on my iPhone screen, my heart hurts. As soon as she sees my face, she pushes her long bangs out of the way, leans in closer to her phone and gasps. “Oh my God. Are you in love?!”
“What? No. Shut up. Why?”
“You’re definitely fucking someone.”
“A lady never tells.”
“So I’ve heard. So tell me immediately.”
“Uhhh, let’s discuss the subject of your texts first, shall we? Youknowwho Evan Hunter is?”
“You’re joking, right? That’s like asking if I know what water is. He’s a combination of two of the most important male star elements—handsome and likable. Although I guess for you, those elements would be Jason and Momoa…Is that why you made out with Jason Kwasnicki on Halloween?”
“How do you know about that?!”
“Someone, I forget who, posted a picture from that party and I could see you guys in the background. I didn’t bring it up because I figured it was just your usual Halloween craziness.”
