A Very Friendly Valentine's Day

by Kayley Loring

  No matter what Layla said, we can continue to be strictly platonic friends for the rest of our lives.

  And we will.

  So, I packed my pretty clothes in case there’s anyone worth flirting with on the train. Because it’s almost Valentine’s Day, and I still haven’t met a worthy male companion for temporary distraction purposes. This was the only New Year’s resolution with a deadline. I always make my deadlines. Even if I have to make out with a homeless person in New York on the thirteenth, I will find an intelligent homeless man who wears glasses, and I will meet that deadline.

  It's seventy degrees in LA, and I’m wearing a massive winter coat as we make our way down the narrow corridor toward the back of the car. Our dedicated sleeping car attendant, Nancy, has just shown us the private restrooms and shower, which are reserved for passengers on this car only. She informed us that we must take the stairs to the upper level in order to go between cars to reach the lounge and dining cars, and she’s now escorting us to the family bedroom.

  Eddie is a few feet behind me, wearing a paper-thin thermal jacket and his ‘Don't Look at Me I'm a Celebrity’ baseball cap and sunglasses even though it’s almost dinner time. And guess what?! Everyone has been looking at him. He is infuriatingly calm, and I bet it took him less than fifteen minutes to pack his bag. It's probably full of chest-defining thin sweaters, presents for Alana and extra-large Calvin Klein condoms that come in celebrity swag bags.

  I regret not adding "There shall be no wearing of fragrance on the train" to my list of guidelines because he smells like beach sex in a snowstorm. It’s very pleasant and appealing and I hate it. I hate that it makes me want to snort the skin on his neck and get us both naked so I can roll around on him like a baby seal. I take back what I said earlier. He’s a terrible friend.

  I'm dealing with it by asking Nancy a series of inane questions and making Harry Potter references so she won't leave me and my nostrils alone with him. Nancy looks and sounds like Kathy Bates, and I would trust her with my life.

  “What time do we arrive at Hogwarts, Nancy, do you know?”

  “Ahhh, if only I had a Galleon for every time someone made that joke.”

  “How long have you been working the rails?”

  “Well, I’ve been a railroader ever since my son left for college, so about eleven years now.”

  “Wow. You must really enjoy it.”

  “I like it just fine. You on your way to Chicago for Valentine’s Day?”

  “New York. Yes,” Eddie answers.

  “Now, isn’t that a treat. How long have you two been together, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Oh, we aren’t together. At all. We’ve been friends for six years. He’s going to New York to meet his girlfriend, and I’m going for better reasons. Other reasons. We just weren’t able to book another room. Well, I had a roomette booked, but he insisted I cancel my ticket. So, we have to share a bed. Room. A bedroom. That’s the only reason we’re sharing one. As friends. Just friends.”

  Nancy glances back at me with a knowing half-grin before sliding open the door to our family bedroom. “I like the sound of that.”

  I’m not sure which part of that she likes the sound of, but I’m a little too busy staring at the room and all the no space in it to ask her. This is a bedroom for a family of dwarves.

  “Welcome to the Friend Zone,” Nancy deadpans with a wink. “It probably looks a little cozier than you were expecting. Everyone says so. But I think you’ll find it’s more than enough room for two people—as long as you don’t hate each other.” She winks again.

  Okay. That’s enough with the winking, Nancy.

  She gestures for me to enter. I do, and Eddie immediately walks in and drops his leather duffel bag and messenger bag onto one of the blue sofas.

  “This is great,” he declares, turning to face the wall and stretching his arms out. Because he can’t face me and stretch his arms out at the same time. It’s not wide enough. “Plenty of room. Right, Bird?”

  Honestly, I don’t know how a family of four humans is supposed to fit in here, because there’s barely enough room for two nipple-y boner-y adults to co-exist without bumping nipples and boners. But I guess as long as we remain totally unattractive to each other, that won’t be an issue.

  “It’s great!” I say. “Four beds—wow!”

  “This sofa here will fold out into a ‘double bed,’ but it’s more like a single and a half. Room enough for two though, if necessary.” She smacks her lips together. “And in here’s your closet.” Eddie steps aside so she can open up the narrow closet. “Both tables under the windows fold out, like so…” She folds out the small table beneath one of the windows. “Menu for your complimentary meals is right here. Complimentary bottles of water. Alcohol must be paid for, but it is encouraged.” She winks again, this time at Eddie. “I’ll be back this evening to turn down the beds for ya. And this here’s how you get my attention if you need anything.” She shows us the call button. “We have flexible dining now, so you do not need to make a reservation for the dining car. Meals will be served starting in half an hour. Any questions?”

  I open my mouth to ask a question, but Eddie beats me to it.

  “Birdie wants to know when the old lady with the candy cart will be coming by.”

  “The Trolley Witch!” I correct him.

  Nancy does a bang-up imitation of the old British lady from the Hogwarts Express. “Anything off the cart, dears?”

  I squeal with glee, clapping and jumping up and down. Before I’m done applauding her, she has disappeared and shut the door. Now I’m alone in a shoebox with Eddie. Now the room feels even smaller. And it already smells like snowy beach sex in here.

  And I’m already thinking about snow.

  And the beach.

  And sex.

  “Should I have tipped her?” Eddie asks as he removes his baseball cap to comb his fingers through his hair. He’s removed his sunglasses, so it’s the first time I’ve seen his eyes today, since he and his driver came to pick me up at my apartment. They’re hazel, and I swear his irises are a different color every time I see him. Right now they’re more green, almost blue. Probably because of all the blue upholstery in here. “Hello?”

  “Huh?”

  “Nancy. Should I have tipped the lady just now?”

  “We tip her at the end of the journey.” I remove my coat and go to hang it in the closet, but it would take up all the space in there.

  “Go ahead,” Eddie says. “I don’t need to hang anything up.”

  “That had better not be the only coat you brought.”

  “It’s warm enough for now. I’ll just buy a heavier coat in New York if I need to. Give it to a homeless guy when I leave.”

  “Wow. Baller.”

  “I am. And I’ll be tipping the attendant, by the way.”

  I unzip my weekender bag and pull out the container of Clorox disinfecting wet wipes. “No way! Unless you let me pay for half of the hotel room in Chicago.” I insisted on paying for my train tickets, of course. He does earn a lot more money than I do, but I have a trust fund. I’ve always tried not to rely on it, but I can’t let him pay for me when he’s going out of his way to accompany me on this trip.

  “Nope. That one’s on me.”

  “Then I’ll pay for Nancy. I insist. Just the tip.”

  Eddie bursts out laughing. I turn around to see what he’s laughing at and then realize what I just said.

  “That’s what she said,” we both say at the same time.

  And then I get to work, disinfecting all of the metal and plastic surfaces.

  Eddie gets comfortable on the longer of the two sofa seats and looks at his phone. “I forgot to ask her for the Wi-Fi password.”

  “Oh, there’s no Wi-Fi on this train.”

  “What?” he snaps. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. This is an older train. The one we’ll take between Chicago and New York is supposed to have free Wi-Fi though.” I w
ipe down the bunk bed’s metal edge above where Eddie is sitting and reach up to wipe the handle that’s on the bottom of the raised bed. Eddie doesn’t move. He’s too busy scrubbing his face and questioning all of his recent life choices to be polite. I step around him and say, “Cell phone service will be pretty spotty too, supposedly.”

  “Of course it will,” he mutters.

  I place the used wipes in the slot for the trash disposal under a small counter. “But don’t worry!” I take four steps back to my weekender bag and pull out my printout of our route. “Look—we’ll be stopping at thirty stations between here and Chicago! I’ve marked the places where we can get off to stretch our legs and make phone calls and check emails.” I take a seat next to him and point out the train stations that I’ve marked with little smiling stick figures that are holding phones.

  His shoulders are shaking. He’s laughing so hard he isn’t making any noise.

  “Fine, don’t look at my map.” I start to stand up, but he puts his hands on my hips and pulls me back down beside him.

  I really wish he hadn’t put his warm hands on my hips.

  And I really wish he didn’t still have his warm hands on my hips.

  And I really, really wish he wasn’t giving my hips a little squeeze before slowly moving his hands away.

  It doesn’t mean anything. That’s just Eddie being Eddie. He’s a flirt robot, on autopilot.

  “I love that you did this,” he manages to say, controlling his laughter. “This is great… You’re great.” He looks up at me, smiling.

  It’s a friendly smile.

  Until it isn’t.

  His gaze travels from the loose strands of my hair, which is up in a messy bun, to my mouth, to my neck, and back up to my mouth again.

  There must still be wine in my bloodstream because everything feels warm and slow and good.

  He looks so serious all of a sudden.

  “Oh, shit.” He suddenly grabs his messenger bag and pulls out his enormous iPad. “I should download a bunch of movies while I still can.”

  I finally remember to breathe. I remember that I’m sober. I remember who I am and who he is, before standing up and telling him, “I actually downloaded a few.”

  “Yeah? PBS documentaries about trains?”

  “Noooo.” I get up to unpack my bedding and the playing cards and the first aid kit.

  “Well, that just means I have to download a documentary about trains now.”

  “Okay, I lied. I downloaded one documentary about the history of trains. But it looks fun!”

  “I knew it.”

  I smile to myself. He does know me well. I unpack two extension cords and then see the strip of condoms at the bottom of the bag, next to my hairdryer. I must have tossed those in when I was on my third glass of merlot last night. I zip up the bag and place it behind me when I sit down. Bad weekender bag. You stay in the corner until you’ve figured out whose penis those condoms are for.

  We did priority boarding, so the train hasn’t left the station yet. I pull my Kindle out from my handbag, to double-check that I’ve downloaded all of the books I plan to read over the next few days. I glance over at Eddie, who looks so confused as he tries to decide which movies to download. All of a sudden, I’m flooded with love for the guy.

  In my heart, I mean.

  Not in my panties.

  But suddenly, this room feels even smaller. Maybe if he had a few less abs and bicep muscles, I could spread out a little more. Maybe if I hadn’t felt quite such a large and firm appendage against me at my party, I could get a little more comfortable in here.

  “I think I’ll go grab us a table in the dining car.”

  “I’ll come with you,” he says without looking up from his iPad.

  “No, no. You do your thing. I’ll take my Kindle. Take your time. You should probably give Alana a call while you can. Let her know about the Wi-Fi and cell phone coverage situation.”

  He looks up at me, surprised. I’ve surprised myself too. I don’t usually give him actual advice regarding Alana. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  I make my way up the narrow staircase to the upper level of the sleeper car and then head in the direction that Nancy had told us to go, toward the dining car. I take in deep breaths, inhaling the not-sexy aroma from the part of the train that Eddie isn’t currently inhabiting. It doesn’t smell great, but at least it doesn’t make me feel confused or horny.

  There’s a middle-aged woman with a blunt, jet-black bob and bright red lipstick pacing around, talking on her phone. I can tell before I even hear what she’s saying that she’s a Hollywood person. A Hollywood person who doesn’t like to fly. I respect that. She steps aside to let me pass, but I slow down when I hear her talking about why she’s going to New York. “I need to check out some shows for that indie drama I’m casting for. It shoots in LA in June, but the director wants someone fresh and surprising. Someone hot, with acting chops. So basically someone who doesn’t exist…”

  I wonder if Eddie knows this person.

  I wonder if she knows who Eddie is.

  I wonder if she knows he’s got the acting chops.

  I wonder if I can go five minutes without thinking about Eddie…

  Eddie

  The One with Fromeo

  I don’t have a fucking clue which movies I should download. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not a big deal. I just don’t want to watch anything that’ll make me horny while I’m sleeping in the same room as Birdie. Although it’s very possible that a toothpaste commercial would make me horny right now because—I’m horny. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m on my way to see Alana. I’m one thousand percent certain it’s because I haven’t fucked a woman in over two months. But it might be because Birdie’s blue eyes seem especially shiny today. And her hair seems especially soft and wavy. And she must have gotten a new kind of lip balm that makes her mouth look even more kissable than usual. She seems so nervous, it’s really adorable. And she’s making it impossible for me to ignore her nipples because they’re locked and loaded, and two layers of clothing can’t hide that.

  But it’s mostly because I haven’t fucked a woman in over two months.

  I think.

  I just need to focus on my goals for the month.

  1. Meet Alana in person.

  2. Stay faithful to Alana.

  3. Keep Birdie out of trouble.

  4. Don’t create trouble for Birdie, or for me.

  5. Finish reading Infinite Jest. I can’t believe I didn’t finish it last month. I hate not achieving my goals. Even when they’re over a thousand pages long.

  I need to download something. Fuck it. I’m downloading as many episodes of Sherlock as I can. I’ve only seen the series once. God only knows how many times Birdie’s seen it, but at least I know she’ll want to watch it. And yeah, I also know she claims it makes her horny because she’s a nerd who thinks Benedict Cumberbatch is hot. At least I know I won’t get horny. I’m more of a Hiddlestoner.

  While the show’s downloading, I text Alana to ask if she can talk. She was disappointed that I’ll be spending a little less time in New York than originally planned, but she didn’t get all moody or anything. Which I liked. And she didn’t ask a lot of questions about who I was taking the train with. Which I really liked.

  ALANA: Hey babe!

  ALANA: I’m at dinner with friends.

  ALANA: It’s kind of loud in here and it’s too cold to go outside to talk.

  ALANA: You on the train?

  ME: Yeah. Boarded. We haven’t left the station yet. Just wanted to tell you I found out there’s no Wi-Fi on this train and cell phone coverage might be spotty for the next few days.

  ME: So if I don’t respond to a text or call, that’s why.

  ALANA: Oh.

  ALANA: Right.

  ALANA: Sure.

  ALANA: Whatever.

  ME: I’m not making that up. There’s really no Wi-Fi on the train and we’re g
oing to be passing through parts of the country that don’t have good cell phone coverage.

  ALANA: Got it.

  ALANA: K.

  ME: Babe. You sure you can’t talk? I’d kind of like you to hear my voice right now so you know I’m not lying.

  ALANA: Yeah, whatever.

  ALANA:

  ME:

  Fuck you, face blowing a kiss emoji.

  I don’t have a fucking clue what that conversation was all about. Does she actually think I’m lying to her? Now, all of a sudden, she doesn’t trust me? Now that I’m on my way to meet her? For Valentine’s Day?

  That is not ideal.

  I can’t just leave it like that.

  I can’t text her again. Not after a passive-aggressive face blowing a kiss emoji. If I call her, she won’t answer. I know she won’t. If I don’t call her, and I don’t text her, she’ll just get even madder. I’ll look more and more like a dick. And I am not a dick.

  I have to ask myself what I always ask myself in these situations…

  What would Declan do?

  I know exactly what my brother would do.

  He’d ask me what the fuck I’m doing trying to work things out with a model I haven’t even met in person when Birdie is in the dining car, waiting for me.

  Fuck you, Declan.

  But if he wanted to make sure a woman knew that he could be trusted—he would call her. Whether she answered or not. Just to prove that he wasn’t a lying asshole.

  But Declan’s too old to realize he can just text her a voice memo. So, I record one. “Hey, babe,” I say in my most reliable boyfriend voice. “Just wanted to hear your voice in the outgoing message and I wanted you to hear my voice when I tell you that I really can’t wait to see you. And I can’t wait to talk to you. And I can’t wait to do all kinds of things to you. If you want to text or call me while I’m traveling, please do. I want you to. But I had to let you know that I might not be able to respond right away. Not because I don’t want to. Because it might be technically impossible for a while. I will check in on you whenever I can, okay? Have a great night. Talk to you soon.”