Page 34 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

“Oh hell no.” Celie waves her hand. “You’re not goin’ to say what you said and move on. We’re gonna back the fuck up like five minutes.” She slaps the table. “You had sex with Six-Point-Five and you droppin’ it on me all casual like that?”

She chucks a red Starburst at my head. “I need a warning. A drumroll. Shit—somethin’. I’m over here thinkin’ you just flirtin’ and fingerin’, and you tellin’ me you rode that boy? SIX-POINT-FIVE AND ALL?”

Door opens, and the last guy enters.

“Yeah,” I say. “Then I fucked Brandon.

“Twenty-four hours later.”

She flings herself up from the chair,

legs screeching across waxed floors,

big curls bouncing,

eyes wide,

arms flailing,

starting to go off⁠—

// BOY #3 //

The door echoes when it shuts hard,

and Celie and I look up at the next guy.

Brown hair finger-brushed back,

tattoos riding the edge of his throat,

six-one,

cheekbones cut from Carrara marble.

“Hey… I, uh… bad time?”

He hooks a thumb back.

“You want me to come back?”

My smutty gaze swings to Celie,

smirk rising.

She’s standing statue-still,

hand frozen in the air,

mouth still hung open.

“Nah, nah, you good,” she finally says, breaking free from her freeze. “Come in, Daddy Tragedy.”

He scans the room first, then walks in, trousers low on his hips, button-up untucked, and the closer he gets, the more he breaks—smile rising, gaze falling to the ground, like I knocked the wind out of his expectations.

Then his gaze climbs back up again,

a blush painting his cheeks.