Page 62 of Hello Darling

17

Stella

All in all, the dinner could have been worse, but Evan Hunter could not have been better.

When we were washing dishes in the kitchen, Lauren, who is quickly growing on me, kept trying to get me to open up about my relationship with him. I never did, but she was pretty sweet about it. “You should see how he looks at you.” She smiled. There didn’t appear to be an ounce of gossip or malice in her voice or expression, but for some reason I just couldn’t have that conversation with her. Not yet, anyway. “He’s got it bad,” she said.

I don’t know if that’s true, but I know how that feels, I thought.

Now that he’s left, I’m sad. My brothers are so noisy and rambunctious, but the house seems quiet and devoid of electricity without him. Besides Lauren, I’ve known him the shortest amount of time, and yet he seems to get me more than these beloved idiots I’ve chosen to devote my life to. I honestly don’t know how to feel about that. Or maybe I’m feeling too much of it to understand it myself. I find my phone where it was charging in the kitchen and discover that there’s already a text from him, asking me to call him as soon as I get it.

“Hi,” he says, before I even realize the call has been connected.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah yeah, I just wanted to talk about something. Can you go up to your old room? Somewhere private?”

“Sure.” I run upstairs. Is this where he tells me that he doesn’t want to see me anymore?

“You there yet?”

“Almost. Where are you?”

“My car.”

I go into my old room, which is still furnished, still has the remnants of me in it, mixed with overflow storage boxes from the gym office. I shut the door and sit on the edge of the bed. “Okay. What’s up?”

“I just had a thought.” He’s smiling, I can hear it in his voice.

“Does it involve angles and positions?”

“Most of my thoughts about you involve those things, but I think that before we get to that again, you and I should go for that dinner at a restaurant.”

“Really?”

“Really. I don’t recall you mentioning a rule about not eating with me in public.”

I kick off my shoes and sit cross-legged on the bed.

“Well no, it just seems like a bigger deal to do that with you than with any of the other guys I’ve…had flings with.” I slap my forehead. I wish there were another way to say it.

“You still need to think of this as a temporary fling, don’t you.” He’s definitely not smiling anymore.

“Well…Is there any other kind?”

“I prefer to think of this as a never-ending fling.”

“That’s…” I lay back on the bed.

“Cheesy as fuck?”

“Romantic as hell.”

"Come on. Let's have every kind of fun together while we can, and then go out in a blaze of glory like Butch and Sundance." There’s that smiley-voice again.

"I mean. Obviously you've sold me on having dinner with you if it means we'll both get shot to death at the end of it."

"Metaphorically speaking, of course."