Page 47 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Beside me, Andrew rises to his feet,

sweeping up my gaze. “C’mon.

“I want your opinion on a drink.”

His chin tips toward the bar.

Third quarter starts. Giants are losing.

Grown men in Eli jerseys scream obscenities at Drew Lock. We move past them, finding an opening at the counter.

Andrew leans into one elbow, mouth close to my ear to talk over the shouting. “Aight so. You’re gettin’ a Sonny on the Beach.”

“Cute name,” I say.

“Back to the lab again, yo?”

He lifts a smug shrug. “What can I say?

“You inspire this old rhapsody.”

Our smiles hit at the same time,

like idiots, like losers,

playin’ with lyrics

like we’re some synced-up freaks.

It’s horrifyingly disgusting.

Even though he keeps his hands everywhere but near me.

He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch me anymore. Meanwhile, I feel like I’m not allowed to touch anyone else.

Sex touched us,

and now we’re all fucked up.

I bump my shoulder into him.

“Talk drink to me.”

“Aight, aight,” he murmurs, leaning into his hip. “Grapefruit juice. Coconut water. Agave nectar. Splash of club soda. Lime wedge and sea-salt on the rim. Goes down easy, and won’t fuck up your pH.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “And if you wanna behave badly tonight—tequila blanco. Single or double. I got you.”

My smile sneaks out sideways to meet his. “You care about my pH, Drew?”

“I mean… yeah. If it’s you, it’s all of you. Top to bottom.” He closes the distance, hand out like he’s about to lay some dirt. “Don’t tell nobody, make me look real sweet, but I been workin’ on a menu with your name on it.”

His gaze drowns in me, but all I hear is the sound of Brandon’s zipper.

He straightens the bill of my hat.

“So tequila or nah?”

I clear my throat, trying to erase Brandon from my head. “If I’m drinking, you’re drinking with me.”

That makes him pause.