Page 44 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B
the way his body’s humming—
you want me, baby, take me.
Two seconds,
with one inch between us,
his mouth right there.
Who the hell does this?
Who volunteers to get rejected in a room full of men? What kind of suicide mission is this, handing me the knife, then offering their throat?
and—
I FUCKED ANOTHER GUY,
I want to scream.
Will he care?
Well, no shit, he’ll care.
He’s a hand-holder. Fuck.
I can’t kiss him with that secret in my mouth, he’ll taste the toxic waste.
And he’s hanging on by a thread.
But I can’t do it.
Three seconds,
and I drop my head,
my mouth falling away.
Andrew releases his held breath, an embarrassed laugh slipping out with it.
He turns his head, eyes on the ground.
“Damn. Yeah, that cut deep.”
I can’t look at his face.
If I do, I’ll want to patch him back up.
“Andrew—”
“Nah. You’re fine. I’m fine. We’re good.”
He steps back and tries to reset, tugging on my Eagles jersey to distract himself. “Swear t'God, you better have a Giants shirt under this.” He laughs when he says it, but it’s weak and full of wishing the last five seconds never happened.
“Or what?” I tip my head, both of us faking it. “Gonna leave me at the door?”
“Don’t play,” he murmurs.
“You know better than that.”
