“Depends on what you got for me.”
A strangled exhale leaves him,
his hand slipping away from my neck.
He reaches into his back pocket.
Then he’s handing me a stack of rolled papers.
“It’s not the contract,” he says quickly.
“I can’t sign it yet.”
A scoff leaves me.“You can’t sign it yet, huh.”
I’m standing here, surrounded by the scent of cigarettes, weed, piss, and sidewalk steam smelling like it came from hell’s asshole,notholding the fucking signed contract, and I want toscream.
Andrew stands taller.
“Not yet, I'm still figurin' my shit out…”
My hand flies to my forehead.
My eyes slide off him. “Andrew, just?—”
“Hey, Andrew,”some girl tosses out as she walks by.
All the words I was about to say
skid to a stop.
My eyes snap to his.
He doesn’t glance back at her.
His eyes are on me.
As if it never happened.
So either it didn’t,
or he’s pretending so hard
he’s almost convincing me.
I exhale and keep going—“Just tell me if I’m wasting my time.” It comes out all at once through an exhale. “Swear—it’s like we’re stuck in foreplay purgatory while you figure out if I’m worth the trouble. Because right now?” My hand falls from myforehead, slaps my thigh. “This is the longestnoin history. And I didn’t come here to beg.”
His elbow hits the lamppost,
eyes darting over my shoulder,
then down to the ground.
“Sonny—nah. I wouldn’t pull you out here just to bullshit you.”
A group of girls blow past us, stepping into our bubble.
Andrew’s sentence stops,
