Find a quiet spot, turn the page, and let’s see what this story has been hiding 🌙 ✦ Across the table, Evan poured wine for Naomi with careful politeness.
He had never told her much about his family, but she could see enough.
The manners he showed at the table were not the kind ordinary families usually trained into a child from an early age.
“Evan, which do you prefer?” Naomi asked, lifting her glass.
“The hot, aggressive version of me, or the gentle one who makes you lunch?
Or maybe you don’t need to choose.
We still have two days off.
You could lock me in this room and take your time.” She touched her glass to his, drank, and slowly licked her lips.
She knew he liked that.
“All right, sweetheart,” Evan said, watching her.
“It’s barely noon.
Don’t tempt me into turning into a rough monster in broad daylight.
You know exactly how tempting you are right now.” He forced down the impulse rising in him.
“Then do you want to talk?” she asked.
“We could talk about our childhoods.
I’m curious about yours.
What made you like this?
You don’t feel like a young man.
You spend every day acting like some old workaholic.” Naomi genuinely wondered about him.
He clearly had a strict plan for his life, and he was still carrying it out.
At his age, wasn’t he supposed to be chasing parties, booze, women, and weed?
Evan did not mind the question.
He lifted his glass, drank slowly, and thought before he answered.
“There isn’t much to remember.
Almost every day was study, and most of it was ahead of my grade.
From the time I was little, I knew what I wanted, so I worked for it.
That made me hard to fit in with people my age.
“They called me isolated, cold, hard to get close to.
Really, I just didn’t know how to play with them.
My only real break was on weekends, cleaning guns with my father, going hunting, or watching football.
When I turned fifteen, he gave me a colt.
After that, taking care of the horse became part of how I relaxed.
“I also had two golden retrievers.
They were sweet, lively, and smarter than they had any right to be.
When I studied or worked, they would lie at my feet.
When I got bored, they would play with me.
That’s about it.” He looked at her.
“What about you?
Why acting?” Only after saying it did he realize how boring his childhood sounded.
Naomi gave him a helpless look.
“That’s it?
You were already too mature to be interesting as a child.” She smiled faintly.
“My mother was an actress, and growing up around her work was what first made acting feel possible.
Later I studied acting and picked up a few small roles, but my career never moved the way I hoped.
“At eighteen, I tried modeling in Japan.
It went badly, so I returned to Australia and eventually worked as an assistant fashion editor at Follow Me.
But I still couldn’t let acting go.
That’s why I came here, to Hollywood.” Evan watched her fall into memory.
Listening to her story, he thought again that people who eventually made it usually survived years of failure first.
If she had not met him, she might have gone back to Australia.
Then a few years later, unwilling to quit, she would have returned to Hollywood and spent six years doing small jobs and background parts before her first real opportunity arrived.
She would break through after thirty with Mulholland Drive, then build on it with The Ring, 21 Grams, King Kong, and Birdman.
The Oscar nominations would come along the way.
“Sorry,” Naomi said.
“I drifted off.” “It’s fine.
You’re beautiful even when you drift off.” Now that he had eaten and drunk his fill, his thoughts naturally turned elsewhere.
She was a patient, ambitious woman who knew how to struggle.
Evan could not deny that he admired that type.
“I heard you can turn into a superhero,” Naomi said, her eyes changing.
“Like in comic books?
Come on.
Show me how you transform.
You like wildcats, don’t you?
Trust me, I can play Catwoman beautifully.
Mr.
Batman, aren’t you going to give your Catwoman a rough audition?” She clearly did not reject the idea.
Whatever else was true, this strong man had his appeal.
She slowly lowered herself to the floor and crawled toward him step by step, moving like a cat.
“You’ll see it, little Catwoman,” Evan said, stripping off his shirt and heading toward the bathroom.
“Come on.
I’ll transform for you in there.
You like it rough?
No.
Who told you to stand up?
A little wildcat doesn’t walk to the bathroom on two feet.” The next morning, hunger woke him.
Evan touched his lower back and felt soreness through his whole body.
Apparently, once he let himself off the leash, he had indulged himself too much.
He looked at the little wildcat lying against him.
She seemed exhausted too.
He had not expected her tastes to be that specific, or that they would pull him in so completely.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Naomi murmured, opening her eyes as he watched her.
“Are you awake?
Should I get up and make you breakfast?” “No.
You’re worn out too.
Stay in bed and try my cooking as a reward for last night.” He pulled on his shirt, then glanced back at her.
“Have you ever had tomato-and-egg noodles?” Naomi tilted her head.
The blanket slid to her waist, and she did not bother pulling it up.
“No.
Is that some kind of comfort food?” Evan had already reached the doorway, but her answer made him smile.
“Something like that.
You’ll see.” He thought for a second.
“You have pasta, right?” He went into the living room and checked the refrigerator.
There was pasta, along with tomatoes and eggs.
Simple enough.
It was a simple comfort dish he remembered from his first life, the kind of recipe the hands retained even when the mind had moved on.
In this life, Evan had almost never cooked that way.
Today, he was simply in a good mood.
Naomi probably would not want food like this every day, but once in a while was different.
When he finished cooking and set the bowls on the small table, he nodded in satisfaction.
Some things stayed buried in the body.
He went back to the bedroom and called Naomi out.
They sat together and ate.
Evan watched first to make sure she could handle it, then relaxed and slurped down his own noodles until both bowls were empty and both of them were leaning back in their chairs, warm and full.
“Evan, I can’t believe you can actually cook something like this,” Naomi said.
“I never would have guessed a workaholic like you had this in you.
It tastes really good.
That was a surprise.” “I went through a phase where I got obsessed with international cooking and languages,” he said.
“When something interests me, I tend to overdo it.” “Sometimes I envy people like you,” Naomi said honestly.
“When you decide to learn something, you can just learn it.” “All right, Naomi.
Break time only lasts until noon.
This afternoon I need to talk to Luke.
He’s handling the bus and equipment, and I don’t feel comfortable ignoring it.
My storyboards still aren’t finished, and the shooting plan needs revisions.” He began gathering the clothes scattered everywhere, pulling them on piece by piece, then finding his socks and shoes.
“We still have the morning,” Naomi said.
“Do you want to go out?
It’s rest time.
Stop thinking about work for a few hours.
How about the Walk of Fame?” Evan considered it.
It should not delay anything important, so he nodded.
“Then get dressed and do your makeup quickly.
I don’t want the whole morning wasted before we even leave.
I’ll go shower and change.
Come get me when you’re ready.” He opened the door and crossed back to his own apartment.
Later, Evan and Naomi walked along the Hollywood Walk of Fame like ordinary tourists, hand in hand.
For people in entertainment, the Walk could feel like sacred ground.
The Walk stretched along Hollywood Boulevard and Vine Street, its brass-and-terrazzo stars set into the sidewalk by the thousands.
They marked actors, musicians, directors, producers, bands, theater groups, fictional characters, and other figures who had left a permanent mark on the industry.
“Evan,” Naomi said, holding his arm as they walked and looking down at the names beneath their feet, “do you think my name will ever be on one of these stars?
I feel like you can definitely do it.
I’ve seen how you work.” For everyone who came to Hollywood chasing a dream, that was part of the fantasy: to have a name fixed here where tourists would see it forever.
“No, Naomi.
I don’t know whether I can do it,” Evan said.
“But I believe your name will be on these streets someday.
I believe it will be carved here permanently.” He meant it.
The process would become more commercial over time, but a star could not simply be bought; selection still mattered.
In this era, the honor carried even more weight.
With the achievements Naomi might one day have, she could absolutely earn one.
Even if his presence changed the future, he did not think it would erase her success.
It might only bring it earlier.
And if too much changed, he would be there.
Evan did not want a steady girlfriend, but if the movie succeeded, he would have opportunities to put her in something that could make her famous.
“Coffee?” Naomi asked, pointing toward a coffee shop.
“Let’s sit for a while.
I’ve been here countless times, and every time I still start imagining things.” Evan nodded.
She pulled him to a table under a sidewalk umbrella.
✦ ✦ ✦ Ready for more?
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS TheBacklot Thank you for reading.
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