Eleanor & Park (36 page)

‘Hey …’ he said, taking a

breath, focusing. ‘What’s going

on? Are you okay?’

Eleanor looked at Park’s face,

so full of something she couldn’t

quite place. His chin hung

forward, like his mouth didn’t

want to pull away from her, and

his eyes were so green they could

turn carbon dioxide into oxygen.

He was touching her all the

places she was afraid to be

touched …

Eleanor tried one last time to

be embarrassed.

Park

For a second, he thought he’d

gone too far.

He hadn’t even meant to, he

was practically sleepwalking. And

he’d been thinking about Eleanor,

dreaming about her, for so many

hours; wanting her made him

stupid.

She was so still in his arms. He

thought for a second that he’d

gone too far, that he’d tripped a

wire.

And then Eleanor touched

him. She touched his neck.

It’s hard to say why this was

different from all the other times

she’d

touched

him.
She
was

different. She was still and then

she wasn’t.

She touched his neck, then

drew a line down his chest. Park

wished that he was taller and

broader; he hoped she wouldn’t

stop.

She was so gentle compared to

him. Maybe she didn’t want him

like he wanted her. But even if she

wanted him half as much …

Eleanor

This is how she touched him in

her head.

From jaw to neck to shoulder.

He was so much warmer than

she expected, and harder. Like all

of his muscles and bones were

right on the surface, like his heart

was beating just under his T-shirt.

She touched Park softly,

gingerly, just in case she touched

him wrong.

Park

He relaxed against the door.

He felt Eleanor’s hand on his

throat, on his chest, then took her

other hand and pressed it to his

face. He made a noise like he was

hurt and decided to feel self-

conscious about it later.

If he was shy now, he

wouldn’t get anything that he

wanted.

Eleanor

Park was alive, and she was

awake, and this was allowed.

He was hers.

To have and hold. Not

forever, maybe – not forever, for

sure – and not figuratively. But

literally. And now. Now, he was

hers. And he wanted her to touch

him. He was like a cat who pushes

its head under your hands.

Eleanor brought her hands

down Park’s chest with her

fingertips apart, then brought them

up again under his shirt.

She did it because she wanted

to. And because once she started

touching him the way she did in

her head, it was hard to stop. And

because … what if she never had

the chance to touch him like this

again?

Park

When he felt her fingers on his

stomach, he made the noise again.

He held her to him and pushed

forward,

pushing

Eleanor

backward – stumbling around the

coffee table to the couch.

In

movies,

this

happens

smoothly or comically. In Park’s

living room, it was just awkward.

They wouldn’t let go of each

other, so Eleanor fell back, and

Park fell against her in the corner

of the couch.

He wanted to look in her eyes,

but it was hard when they were

this close. ‘Eleanor …’ he

whispered.

She nodded.

‘I love you,’ he said.

She looked up at him, her eyes

shiny and black, then looked

away. ‘I know,’ she said.

He pulled one of his arms out

from under her and traced her

outline against the couch. He

could spend all day like this,

running his hand down her ribs,

into her waist, out to her hips and

back again … If he had all day, he

would. If she weren’t made of so

many other miracles.

‘You know?’ he repeated. She

smiled, so he kissed her. ‘You’re

not the Han Solo in this

relationship, you know.’

‘I’m totally the Han Solo,’ she

whispered. It was good to hear

her. It was good to remember it

was Eleanor under all this new

flesh.

‘Well, I’m not the Princess

Leia,’ he said.

‘Don’t get so hung up on

gender roles,’ Eleanor said. Park

ran his hand out to her hip and

back again, catching his thumb

under her sweater. She swallowed

and lifted her chin.

He pulled her sweater up

farther and, then, without thinking

about why, he pulled up his shirt,

too, and laid his bare stomach

against hers.

Eleanor’s face crumpled, and it

made him come unhinged.

‘You can be Han Solo,’ he

said, kissing her throat. ‘And I’ll

be Boba Fett. I’ll cross the sky for

you.’

Eleanor

Things she knew now, that she

hadn’t known two hours ago:

Park was covered with skin.

Everywhere. And it was all

just as smooth and honey-

beautiful as the skin on his

hands. It felt thick and richer

in some places, more like

crushed velvet than silk. But

it was all his. And all

wonderful.

She was also covered with

skin. And her skin was

apparently covered with

super-powered nerve endings

that hadn’t done a damn thing

her whole life, but came alive

like ice and fire and bee

stings as soon as Park

touched her. Wherever Park

touched her.

As embarrassed as she was of

her stomach and her freckles

and the fact that her bra was

held together with two safety

pins, she wanted Park to

touch her more than she

could ever feel embarrassed.

And when he touched her, he

didn’t seem to care about any

of those things. Some of

them he even liked. Like her

freckles. He said she was

candy-sprinkled.

She wanted him to touch her

everywhere.

He’d stopped at the edge of her

bra and only dipped his fingers

into the back of her jeans – but it

wasn’t Eleanor who stopped him.

She never would. When Park

touched her, it felt better than

anything she’d ever felt in her

whole life. Ever. And she wanted

to feel that way as much she

could. She wanted to stock up on

him.

Nothing was dirty. With Park.

Nothing could be shameful.

Because Park was the sun, and

that was the only way Eleanor

could think to explain it.

Park

Once it started to get dark, he felt

like his parents could walk in at

any minute, like they should have

been home a long time ago – and

he didn’t want them to find him

like this, with his knee between

Eleanor’s legs and his hand on her

hip and his mouth as far as it

could reach down the neck of her

sweater.

He pulled away from her and

tried to think clearly again. ‘Where

are you going?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. Nowhere …

My parents should be home soon,

we should get it together.’

‘Okay,’ she said, and sat up.

But she looked so bewildered and

beautiful that he climbed back on

top of her and pushed her all the

way down.

A half-hour later, he tried

again. He stood up this time.

‘I’m going to the bathroom,’

he said.

‘Go,’ she said. ‘Don’t look

back.’

He took a step, then looked

back.

‘I’ll go,’ she said a few

minutes later.

While she was gone, Park

turned up the volume on the TV.

He got them both Cokes and

looked at the couch to see if it

looked illicit. It didn’t seem to.

When Eleanor came back, her

face was wet.

‘Did you wash your face?’

‘Yeah …’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘Because I looked weird.’

‘And you thought you could

wash it off?’

He gave her the same once-

over he’d given the couch. Her

lips were swollen, and her eyes

seemed wilder than usual. But

Eleanor’s sweaters were always

stretched out, and her hair always

looked tangled.

‘You look fine,’ he said. ‘What

about me?’

She looked at him, and then

smiled. ‘Good …’ she said. ‘Just

really, really good.’

He held out his hand to her,

and pulled her onto the couch.

Smoothly, this time.

She sat next to him and looked

down at her lap.

Park leaned against her. ‘It’s

not going to be weird now,’ he

said, softly, ‘is it?’

She shook her head and

laughed. ‘No,’ she said, and then,

‘only for a minute, only a little.’

He’d never seen her face so open.

Her

brows

weren’t

pulled

together,

her

nose

wasn’t

scrunched. He put his arm around

her, and she laid her head on his

chest without any prompting.

‘Oh, look,’ she said, ‘
The

Young Ones
.’

‘Yeah … Hey. You still

haven’t told me – what was going

on yesterday? When I saw you?

What was wrong?’

She sighed. ‘I was on my way

to Mrs Dunne’s office because

somebody in gym took my

clothes.’

‘Tina?’

‘I don’t know, probably.’

‘Jesus …’ he said, ‘that’s

terrible.’

‘It’s

okay.’

She

actually

sounded like it was.

‘Did you find them? Your

clothes?’

‘Yeah … I really, really don’t

want to talk about it.’

‘Okay,’ he said.

Eleanor pressed her cheek into

his chest, and Park hugged her. He

wished that they could go through

life like this. That he could

physically put himself between

Eleanor and the world.

Maybe Tina really was a

monster.

‘Park?’ Eleanor said. ‘Just one

more thing. I mean, can I ask you

something?’

‘You know you can ask me

anything. We’ve got a deal.’

She set her hand over his

heart. ‘Did … the way you acted

today have something to do with

seeing me yesterday?’

He almost didn’t want to

answer. Yesterday’s confusing lust

felt even more inappropriate now

that he knew the upsetting

backstory. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly.

Eleanor didn’t say anything for

a minute or so. And then …

‘Tina would be so pissed.’

Eleanor

When Park’s parents got home,

they seemed genuinely glad to see

Eleanor. His dad had bought a

new hunting rifle at the boat

show, and he tried to show her

how it worked.

‘You can buy guns at a boat

show?’ Eleanor asked.

‘You can buy anything at a

boat

show,’

his

dad

said.

‘Anything worth having.’

‘Books?’ she asked.

‘Books about guns and boats.’

She stayed late because it was

Saturday, and on the way home

she and Park stopped at his

grandparents’ driveway, as usual.

But tonight Park didn’t lean

over and kiss her. Instead, he held

her tight.

‘Do you think we’ll ever be

alone like that again?’ she asked.

She felt the tears in her eyes.

‘Ever? Yes. Soon? I don’t

know …’

She hugged him as hard as she

could, and then she walked home

alone.

Richie was home and awake and

watching
Saturday Night Live
.

Ben was asleep on the floor, and

Maisie was sleeping next to Richie

on the couch.

Eleanor would have gone

straight to bed, but she had to go

to the bathroom. Which meant

walking between him and the TV.

Twice.

When she got to the bathroom,

she pulled her hair back tight and

washed her face again. She

hurried back past the TV without

looking up.

‘Where have you been?’

Richie asked. ‘Where do you
go