Page 31 of A Very Friendly Valentine's Day
The One with the Snorgasm
LAYLA: Have y’all boarded the Love Train yet? Hope you’ve been doing your Kegel exercises. Better get that pelvic floor ready for some hot sexy frorgasms. Those are orgasms given to you by a friend.
ME: Please stop.
LAYLA: I will not. I’m doing MY Kegels right now.
ME: I’m sure your pelvic floor is very well conditioned. But you have to stop talking about Eddie and me like that. It’s not a thing.
LAYLA: But vacation sex is a thing. And trains are sexy. That’s why Alfred Hitchcock used a train entering a tunnel as a symbol for banging.
ME: That’s really all you remember from the movie night I hosted, isn’t it?
LAYLA: Stop trying to change the subject. You feel different now that you’re on that train, don’t you?
ME: Oh no! Only one bar of coverage! No Wi-Fi! Gotta go! Love ya bye!
LAYLA:
I lock my phone and plug the charger into the one wall outlet in our room, next to Eddie’s charging phone. Our phones are now touching, but I’ve been trying really hard to keep my body away from Eddie’s. Because ever since those Romeo monologues, all I want to do is hug him. And if I hug him tonight, all I’ll want is for his love train to enter my tunnel. Because I’ve consumed two and a half glasses of red wine and I’m feeling all kinds of warm and woozy.
But it’s just the wine.
Or maybe I should take a Dramamine.
I’m sure it’s just the Shakespeare.
And the fact that Eddie is a really, really good actor.
He’s never asked me to run lines with him for his upcoming scenes if there’s a love scene, so I’ve never experienced that side of his acting in person before. Not up close, anyway. Certainly not directed at me.
No wonder he was always dating his costars. I get it now. I get why the actresses who play his love interest always fall for him. Even when the writing isn’t exactly brilliant, I’m sure it’s a pretty heady experience, being looked at by Eddie Cannavale like that. Like you’re his Juliet.
We took our sweet time finishing up in the dining car and then spent an hour or so playing cards in the lounge car before coming back to the room. It’s so sweet that he’d carried a pack of playing cards with him in his pocket. He knew I wouldn’t want to go back to the room to be alone with him right away.
A number of girls and moms approached him for autographs and handed me their phones, asking me to take pictures of them with him. This happens nearly every time we’re out together in LA. He always takes his time chatting with his fans. It’s sweet. He’s just a nice guy—which is why I can’t read into anything whenever he says or does anything particularly sweet to me. It’s just who he is.
But we’re back in the room together now. Nancy has already done the turndown service for the beds. I’ve finally convinced Eddie to let me sleep on the top bunk, since the bottom one is wider and he needs more room for all six of his abs. I told him to bring his own bedding and I’m so proud of him for actually listening to me. Now that I’m back from washing up and changing down the hall, I’m going to put my sheets on the top bunk.
I step onto the ladder, wearing only thick socks on my feet, carrying the bedding. I place the bedding on the mattress and remove the top sheet and blanket, so I can cover the existing sheets and pillowcases with my own. Eddie is sitting on the edge of the lower bunk, in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt. He’s readingInfinite Jest, and once again, his concentration face is endearing to me.
“Looks like you’ve made a lot of progress,” I tell him. He’s about halfway through already.
“I’m going to finish it this month,” he mutters.
“It took me three months to read it, you know.”
“I’mgoingto finish it this month.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Yes. I think I like Dave Eggers’ writing more, though.”
I giggle. “I do too, actually.”
“Then why didn’t you just give me a Dave Eggers book?”
I can’t stop giggling now because I’m finally realizing how ridiculous it was to give him a thousand-and-seventy-nine-page novel as a gag gift. When I’m struggling to tuck the fitted sheet in, the unexpected jolt and horn of a passing freight train startle me, and I lose my balance. My foot slips. Unable to grab on to anything, I feel myself falling backward in slow motion.
