Page 98 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

“And I hate you for it. For all of it.

“I can’t fuckin’ stand you right now.”

Wine’s supposed to take the edge off.

Not throw me off one.

I try to let it go,

to think about something else.

But he’s still here,

in this hot-tub-hell of truth.

“Serious question,” I say,

glancing over my shoulder.

He has an elbow propped on the ledge, hand raking through snow flurries melting in his hair. He’s watching me, eyes heavy-lidded, moon reflecting off the stupid gold, mothersucking chain.

“You obsessed, Drew?

“Addicted? To pussy.”

His fingers freeze mid-rake,

and he grips the ends.

He’s probably heard it all before.

Even counted on me asking this question, but hoped I didn’t.

The steam rises off his chest and shoulders. December’s trying to lay its fingers on him, but heat from the tub keeps pushing it back.

Not even the month can touch him.

“Lemme put it like this—” His elbow slips off the edge, and he skims his palm across the water. “Some guys keep playin’ ball, not ‘cause they like it, but ‘cause they’re good at it, and it became the only thing people ever want from ‘em.”

He looks down at the water, watching the city’s reflection in the ripples. “Crowd loves ‘em. Coach counts on ‘em. And they think—fuck it, guess this is who I am now. You’re either this, or you’re nothin’. So nah. Just ‘cause I kept doin’ it doesn’t mean I wanted it. Only means people kept wantin’ it from me.”

His head lifts, eyes finding mine.

“And so I just… kept fuckin’ playin’.”

I’m not sober enough to find the answer in the metaphor. “So… was that a no? Or you dodging the question?”

He cracks a tired smile.

“Nah, I ain’t addicted.

“Didn’t like doin’ it.

“Didn’t hate doin’ it either.

“I only did it ‘cause they asked, and I was that guy. After a while? It’s like any another part of a body. An arm. A leg. Skin. Pussy. That’s it.” He shrugs. “Was somethin’ I learned how to do before knowin’ how to feel about it. Like I wore it out in my head before I ever got to want it. So call it what you want, Allison—weak, pussy-whipped, no spine, whatever. You forget that I had nothin’ worth sayin’ no for, so I didn’t fuckin’ care.”

He reaches across the water, arm slicing through steam, and snatches the smokes and lighter off the ledge.