A Very Friendly Valentine's Day

by Kayley Loring

  I feel everything for this woman. In my heart and my soul and my aching hard cock. When the waves become tiny electric aftershocks, she forces her eyes open, trying to focus on me. She licks her lips, reaches out for me. We clasp hands and she pulls me up to lie on top of her. She wriggles around so my erection, still raging inside my boxer briefs, is snug between her legs. Right up against the warmth of her pussy.

  “Eddie…”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Did you buy a coat?”

  I laugh, and it’s a while before I can stop laughing. She’s still at the tail end of an orgasm and she’s worried about whether or not I have a warm coat for the rest of the trip.

  “Not yet. I had to get something else. I’ll run out to get it in a bit.”

  She shakes her head. “You need to get a coat.”

  “I will get a coat.”

  “We need to get going.”

  “We still have a few hours.”

  “I mean…” She hikes herself up onto her elbows. “We need to have sex in the shower really quick before you do that.”

  Dizzy.

  Absolutely, fucking dizzy with love.

  20

  Birdie

  The One with A Voicemail on the Burner Phone

  When I decided to turn off the passcode on my phone and leave it out on the hotel desk, I was tempting fate. Or tempting Eddie, I suppose. I didn’t know if he cared anymore about that voicemail or if he even remembered leaving it. But the champagne told me that it was time to let him hear it, if he wanted to.

  I honestly didn’t know if it would scare him and make him back away or not. I didn’t know if he’d be mad at me for not telling him what he’d said. It just never occurred to me that it would result in him kissing me so passionately and then making out with my lady bits like nobody’s business.

  That boy is just full of surprises.

  And talents.

  And more surprises.

  After the shower sex that the champagne had also made me do, he left the hotel room to go buy a coat, taking his bags with him. I thought I should go along with him, because while Eddie is a very responsible person—sometimes I wish I could put a leash on him. Especially when there’s a train to catch. But he didn’t want to rush me. He told me to stay and enjoy the room and he’d meet me at the lounge at Union Station. He told me to order more room service and relax.

  I did. I’m relaxed. Until I find an envelope in my purse, with unfamiliar handwriting on it. That makes me a little tense for a minute. Because what if some creep had snuck into the room while I was in the shower and put something in my purse?

  But then I realize the creep was Eddie. I can tell by the boxy capitalized letters that he tried to disguise his penmanship, but I recognize the slant of his handwriting and the size and spacing of each letter. I recognize the care he took in writing it, the same as I always know when it’s him knocking at my door.

  Inside the envelope, I find a phone. No note. Just a charger and an unlocked cell phone with notifications for one voicemail message and three texts.

  I feel a rush of excitement, a whole new flock of butterflies in my tummy and a shiver of realization that Eddie might just be the best guy alive.

  And he might just be mine.

  I take a seat in the armchair, hands shaking, and play the voice message from YOUR SECRET VALENTINE.

  February 11th, 2:15 p.m.

  “Hi, Birdie. I’m the guy from your American Lit class. You know me. You know me better than most people know me, but you don’t know certain things about me…yet. I remember once you talked about a Thomas Jefferson quote that you loved. ‘I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past.’ I do like my dreams of the future with you, but I can’t say that I regret our past. That would mean that I didn’t like the time we spent together, and that would be the opposite of the truth. But I do want you to have a clearer picture of our history. There are some things that I never told you, things that I need you to know.

  That first day of American Lit, you were already there when I walked in. We hadn’t met yet, but I’d actually seen you around campus before. You never seemed to notice me, which was…different. And intriguing. But everything about you intrigued me. Head to toe. The way you tilt your head when you’re reading. The way you twirl loose strands of hair around your finger and point your toes when you’re concentrating on a book. The way you walk, like a dancer who’s always late for an important class or meeting. But you’re never late. You’re always just a little bit early. You just treat everything and everyone like they’re really important, I think.

  Anyway.

  You didn’t notice me when I walked into class and you didn’t even look up when I asked you if anyone was sitting next to you. You just said “Nope!” and continued scribbling in your notebook like a maniac. The class hadn’t even started yet, so I had no idea what you were writing. I said, “Excuse me,” because I wanted to pass you so I could sit to the left of you—because I wanted you to see my good side. You finally looked up at me, and in that moment that we stared at each other, I had this feeling that you’d be an important person in my life. I figured you’d be a lover. Because at that point, it had never even occurred to me that I could be friends with a woman, much less a woman I was attracted to.

  And then Layla showed up and plopped down on the other side of you and the moment was over.

  But that feeling was still there. It’s always been there. It was a new feeling, but I recognized it. In the same way that you were a stranger I’d admired from afar on campus, but you seemed familiar. Familiar but also mysterious. Something I needed to study in order to understand.

  Like when I first read those monologues from Romeo and Juliet. You get this sense of what the words mean the first time you hear or read them, when you’re a teenager. This sense that they mean something to you, even if you’ve never actually experienced love at first sight before. I hadn’t, when I first started auditioning with that monologue. But I researched the words I didn’t understand. I taught myself what it meant to be that in love. I found my inner Romeo, even though I hadn’t found my Juliet yet. Even though I got really good at performing that monologue, deep down I knew there was a key piece that was missing. From the performance and from my life.

  On Valentine’s Day—that first Valentine’s Day after we’d met, I wasn’t seeing anyone special. You hadn’t been either, not for a while. And we had a class together on February fourteenth. Like I said, I’d never had a female friend before, so I wasn’t sure if I should give you something or not. A card or a rose or whatever. I got all worked up about it. It was so dumb. But on the thirteenth, I called my brother Declan and asked him what I should do. I explained to him that we were just friends, and he didn’t believe me. But he told me to get you a card that just said ‘thanks for being a friend’ or something like that. And then he hung up on me because he was such a dick back then, but whatever.

  So I bought the least shitty Valentine’s Day card I could find at a stationery store and wrote ‘thanks for being such a great friend.’ There was so much more I could have said. There’s always been so much more that I could have said to you. But that was all I wrote. And I brought it to class to give to you. You wore a red sweater dress that day, and those knee-high boots that you should wear more often, and you looked so hot and beautiful. I had very un-friend-ly thoughts about you, and I thought about asking if you wanted to have dinner with me that night. I didn’t even care if you were going to ask if I meant as a date or not. I just wanted to be the guy who had dinner with you on Valentine’s Day. But then Layla showed up and asked you where you were going for dinner with ‘that guy from the library.’ I wanted to yell out ‘WHAT FUCKING GUY FROM THE LIBRARY?!’ But I didn’t.

  That card stayed inside my jacket pocket. It seemed wrong to give it to you if you had a date. So I never did. I tore it up and tossed it into the recycling bin and that was that.

  Incidentally, in case you don’t re
member, according to you, that guy from the library went from being ‘the stud in the stacks to a dud in the sack.’ I mean, that’s neither here nor there, but it’s worth mentioning.

  I think I fell in love with you at first sight, Birdie. It just took me six years to realize it.

  You were that key piece that I’d been missing. I was still looking for it in other women, even after I’d met you. Because it seemed like you and I didn’t fit together in certain ways. And maybe we don’t. In some ways. But we do in every way that matters.

  There’s a reason why my performance of those monologues on the train was the best I’ve ever given. It’s because I finally understood what those words meant. I was finally saying them to the right woman.

  It’s you.

  It’s always been you.

  I’m going to find my own ways of saying it, so you can understand too.

  I’ll say it in as many different ways as I can until you do.

  Happy Valentine’s Day, Birdie.

  Thank you for being a great friend.

  I’m glad I decided to sit next to you.

  I’m glad I decided to take the train with you.

  I hope to sit next to you for the rest of our lives.”

  And that’s how you leave a message, people.

  I weep for fifteen solid minutes. Can’t even bring myself to listen to it again. Don’t have to. I heard it. Really heard it, with all my heart and soul.

  When the tears have finally dried, I read the text messages on the burner phone.

  YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: Here’s another thing I’ve never told you: every time you wear your hair up, all I want to do is kiss your neck. Even as a friend. It’s like when I’m getting in shape for a shirtless scene on the show. Even though I’m fucking dying to eat pasta and bread and cookies, I know I shouldn’t, so I don’t. Because I’m goal oriented. And my goal with you used to be to do whatever I had to, to be the best friend that I could be to you. My new goal is to be the best friend that I can be to you, while also kissing your neck. And every other part of you. In the best way that I can. I’m going to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, Bird. Whenever you’re ready. Because I am. I am beyond ready for you.

  YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: I also never told you that after I saw your tits at your party last month, I went home and beat off and came harder than I ever had when I was thinking about Alana or any other girl. Thought you should know.

  YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: And another thing: I loved sleeping in the same bed as you. It was a pretty shitty, not very comfortable bed, but I slept better next to you than I have in any other bed since moving out of my parents’ house. I want to fall asleep with you, dream with you, and wake up with you in my arms. Whenever possible. And before we fall asleep, I want to do absolutely filthy things to you. Filthy, beautiful things. In a loving way. But really fucking filthy.

  Yeah. Eddie Cannavale just might be the best guy alive.

  I don’t reply to him because I have to get ready to leave for Union Station. But I’m already thinking of all the things that I’d like to say and do to my secret valentine when I get the chance.

  And now, I’ve boarded the train to New York by myself, and these are the texts I’ve received from my dear longtime friend Eddie that I probably should have kept on a leash…

  EDDIE: Hey. Bought a coat. Got a voicemail from Rita’s office. Sounds urgent. Have to call her back.

  EDDIE: Hey. Turns out they need me back on set in Vancouver in a week, so I can’t take the train back to LA. But I want you to fly to LA with me. That way, we can stay an extra day or two in New York. I don’t want you taking the train back by yourself.

  EDDIE: Hi. Forgot to wear my sunglasses and baseball cap, so I got mobbed by fans. Turns out I’m huge in Chicago. Doesn’t seem to be doing me any ducking good though because I’m trying to find a ducking cab but it’s starting to snow so they’re all taken. Going to walk as fast as I can to the station. I’ll make it. Don’t worry.

  ME: Eddie. Just tried to phone you. They’re making the final boarding call.

  EDDIE: Duck. Shit. Duck.

  Okay, so Eddie Cannavale is still the best guy alive, but he’s not perfect. Nobody’s perfect. But he could at least be fucking here. We are moving. This train is actually leaving the station. Those butterflies are still there in my belly, but now they’re getting a little bit ragey and they want to smack that boy up the side of his head.

  I’m staring down at my phone—the regular one—about to call him, when he calls me. “I am so sorry.”

  “You’re not on the train?”

  “I am so, so sorry. I just got to the platform. I’m watching it go.”

  “Eddie!” I go to the window that faces the platform, but I can’t see him.

  “Look, it’s not ideal, but I will work this out. I can fly to New York and be there to meet you at Penn Station when you get in.”

  “You’re really not on the train? This is a joke, right?”

  “Would you consider it a funny joke, if it were?”

  “No.”

  “Well then, it’s not a joke. I’m sorry. I’m dying to see you.”

  “I’m dying to see you too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes! Of course.”

  “Did you listen to the message on that phone?”

  “Yes. It’s the best message I’ve ever heard. Even better than the drunk one. And the texts. I love all of them. I love you, Eddie. I can’t believe I can’t tell you that in person right now.”

  “I love you. I screwed up. I mean, I’m glad I’m wearing an actual fucking coat now because it’s really fucking cold, but I can’t fucking believe I missed the train.”

  “Okay. It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up about it. It totally sucks, but I was going to take the train by myself anyway to begin with, right? You fly to New York and hang out with your brother, and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Yeah. I’ll meet you there.”

  “I can’t wait to see you.”

  “You don’t even know how badly I want to see you. We’ll stay in touch. Whenever we can, right?”

  “Yes—there’s Wi-Fi on this train. It’s not great, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “Great. Perfect. You can choose which phone you want to use to reach me. I’ll keep them both on when I’m not on the plane.”

  “Yes. I love the phone. I love that you did that for me.”

  “I’ll do anything for you… Is it okay for me to say things like that?”

  “It’s more than okay, Eddie.”

  “Good, because I miss you already.”

  “I miss you too.”

  “Is Lord Fuckwit on that train with you?”

  “Well, now you’re just getting lazy. And I have no idea. I’ve only been in this room since I boarded.”

  “Okay. Well, I better get to the airport. I’ll let you know when I’ve booked a flight.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  “I will see you soon. Not soon enough, but soon.”

  “Yes. See you soon.”

  I end the call. And I’m already feeling a little sick. We’re traveling in a straight line, but I’m heading in the wrong direction—away from Eddie. It already feels wrong, after spending the past couple of days with him. This bedroom doesn’t smell at all like snowy beach sex. It doesn’t smell like snow, or the beach, or sex. It smells like a train. And other people.

  But if Eddie is headed for New York, then I guess I am going in the right direction. It’s just going to take about twenty flippity floppity hours to get there.

  There’s that crackling sound from the wall speaker that precedes an announcement from the conductor. I pull the burner phone out from my purse and get all settled on the sofa, thinking about what I want to text to my valentine first.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Welcome onboard the Polar Express. Just kidding, this is the Lake Shore Limited, now leaving Chicago Union Station for a final destination of New York, Penn
Station. I am Gavin, your conductor, and in case you haven’t noticed—it’s snowing. Travel time to Penn Station is just under twenty hours, with eighteen scheduled stops along the way. I say ‘scheduled stops,’ because, well, it’s snowing. So let’s not get our hopes up. But it’s important to stay positive. It’s important to enjoy the ride. But let’s be real—things don’t always go according to plan. We might not get you to New York City on time, but we’ll get you there. And no matter what’s awaiting you there, it will be worth the wait. With a little patience and a little forgiveness, things always work out for the best in the end. The poet Richard Aldington, as you may have read on the Amtrak website, wrote: Adventure is allowing the unexpected to happen to you. Exploration is experiencing what you have not experienced before. So with that in mind…please note that we are unable to serve beef or chicken until further notice. Gavin, out.”

  …

  Fuck.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The One with a Bunch of Texts from the Burner Phones

  YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Hi! I’m writing a book on the most important dates in American history. Ours will be the final chapter.

  YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: I’m so happy I finally get to use that hilarious pickup line!

  YOUR FILTHY VALENTINE: Also, here are some sexy words: fuck, cock, pussy, clit, bang, jizz, testicles, nipples, tits, vulva, honey pot, shaft, tumescence, rimming, pile driving, beaver, muff, Cumberbatch.

  YOUR SECRET VALENTINE: You forgot Venus’s court, tinderbox, flapdoodle, bumfiddle and cunny-hole.