Page 109 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

“You’re not with me, grippin’ me tight.

“So I’m just spillin’ it into my fuckin’ hand for no reason? And I feel stupid—cum dryin’ on my thigh, breathin’ heavy. ‘Cause I came for a girl who ain’t even in the room.”

I’m drunk.

So I’m trying even harder to tune in.

‘Cause it sounds important.

Philosophical, even.

I’m leaned in, nodding slow, tilting my head, seeming as if I’m contemplating something deep.

He doesn’t need much, just eye contact and the occasional “Yeah…”

Make it look like I’m absorbent.

“Two words: Aero. Smith. And I was like—yep, that’s a wrap. Fuckin’ soulmates. Called it. Night fuckin’ one. Didn’t I? And the kicker?” He dips closer, voice lower. “Wasn’t even a real thing.”

My brow lifts.

“What wasn’t a real thing?”

“Soulmates,” he says, serious. “Was never real. Not ‘til you and me breathed out in the same second. First time that happened, I thought my fuckin’ heart stopped. You looked away real fast, smilin’ like it hit you too.” He throws his hands up. “That was it for me.”

God, he’s cute.

Like stupid, sickening cute.

Like go-jump-off-a-bridge cute.

“Drew—” A chuckle spills out of me. “—you sayin’ soulmates never existed before?”

“Sonny. That’s exactly what I’m sayin’. We’re the first ones. And I never liked anyone before you,” he goes on, shaking his head. “So if I’m doin’ this wrong, it’s ‘cause I’m makin’ it up as I go.”

The seconds pass in silence.

His grin starts to fade, the lights in his eyes dimming, and he reaches for the bag of frozen blueberries. “So you leavin’, huh? Takin’ off to California. Don’t tell nobody.” He holds the bag gentle to my cheekbone. “How long you gonna be gone for?”

His eyes bruise mine. He’s bothered,

hurt that I didn’t tell him about it.

“It’s just a work thing.

“Few days, in and out. Be back Friday.”

He almost says something,

then chooses not to.

He wants to ask more,

but he’s afraid it’s not his place.

So he changes the subject—“Now tell me somethin’. Somethin’ you’d never say sober.” He draws me down against him, one hand grazing my bare hip, the other keeping the bag steady at my cheek. “Gimme anything, Sonny.

“Whisper it if you gotta.