Page 593 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

he’s already so deep inside,

already everywhere I am,

that there’s no space to pull him closer,

no way to push him out if I tried.

So this place we're in is as good as any⁠—

not the opening track,

but not the final note either.

We've lost ourselves somewhere in the middle, the record of us keeps spinning in the dark, and I could listen forever.

Celie doesn’t know about my confessions. I already know how that’ll go.

So I told him I loved him.

Bitch, stop.

I’m not joking.

Out loud? To his face?

Yeah.

With your mouth?

Yeah.

Allie, be for real. What’d he say?

Nothing.

Both times.

And then I’d cry,

which is exactly why I’ll never tell her.

I point the rim of my drink at her. “Let’s just say for the first time in, well, ever, you’re single, and I’m sprung as fuck.”

Celie rises onto her knees, blanket sliding off her thighs.

“Hear ye. Hear ye.” She snatches up the gray hoodie balled near the fire pit. “I brought Drake’s hoodie. The last surviving artifact of my stupid bitch era.” She holds it up, the fire reflecting in her eyes. “But tonight, gotta let it burn. Leave it behind in 2024.”

“Bye Drakey poo,” I say into my drink.

She tosses it into the fire.

The flames catch the sleeve first.

Then the hoodie shrivels into itself,

gray curling black,

smoke lifting into the cold night.