Page 12 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Not even Andrew can change that, and I don’t know why I ever thought he could.

When my eyes open again,

they find his.

With his shoulder against the tiled wall, he watches me—face arcane, thoughts cryptic.

I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

The moment breaks. He pushes off the wall and steps in close, his chest brushing mine. I hold my breath as he draws nearer.

Then he reaches past me, grabbing the shampoo bottle behind my shoulder.

I exhale and drop my head, blinking the water from my lashes. “My hair’s gonna be wet ‘til Monday.”

He tilts his head.

“I’ll towel dry it.”

A small laugh slips out pitiful.

It sounds so simple.

After everything we just did,

and everything I just ruined,

simple feels surreal.

I rip my eyes from his, my gaze wandering down his body.

And fuck, he’s—fucking beautiful.

Every inch of him.

Chest broad, cut stomach, skin flushed from the water, tattoo written across his ribcage—my words, his body. A light trail of hair slashes from his navel through the V, between narrow hips cutting in deep.

His half-hard cock hangs heavy between his thighs. One vein running crooked, a freckle stamped on the thick head I never noticed ‘til now.

I skim over the scar on his side with my thumb, too afraid to ask about it, then slip my fingers over his tattoo.

I wonder what he’d do if he ever found out. Would he still love the song if he knew who bled it? Or would it feel stolen, become less his the second he realized it was first mine? Would he ever be able to hear it the same again?

My hand falls down his waist, catching on the edge of his hip.

When I look up, his eyes are already on me, watching me with his hair soaked and pushed back, water dripping from his face—his lashes, the tip of his nose, his lips.

“You’re breathtaking,” I say, barely above a whisper.

The second it leaves my mouth,

I want to throw up again.

But my words flash behind his eyes, and his brows pinch, his breath getting stuck somewhere between chest and throat.

He looks like he’s about to speak,

but the words never come.