Page 140 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

He wants to laugh at that, but don’t wanna piss her off.

‘Cause, beggin’? Christ. If she only knew the truth.

“Was just singin’ a fuckin’ song, sweetheart,” he mutters.

Her mouth hangs dumb. “You’re so slick, you know that? Had me out there feelin’ like the only one in the room. Made me think you actually wanted me.” Her smile sticks, but the temperature behind it drops. “Now you’re standin’ here makin’ me feel like I’m nuts for readin’ it wrong?”

He’s the one who pegged her wrong.

Thought she was just another lingerer.

But nah—she’s the kind who turns eye contact into destiny.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to do that.”

“Then say what you were tryna do, Andrew. Tell me what you want.”

She spits his name as if it’s been in her mouth every night for years.

What the fuck does Andrew want?

Sleep. Salami. Silence. It’s that simple.

Her turnin’ her ass back around? That’d be a fuckin’ miracle.

But he knows that ain’t what she’s really askin’. And him? He’s so busy givin’ everybody else what they want, he don’t even know what it feels like to want somethin’ for himself.

Nah, he don’t got wants.

Only obligations.

“It’s one of two things,” she starts, which, in Psycho, means: there’s only one answer. “Either you’re into me… or you’re full of shit and get off on bein’ a tease. So which is it?”

He stares. That’s it.

Yeah... he was lookin’ right at her. Because he was singin’ a fuckin’ love song. That’s the job. But one wrong move, and this could end with him in cuffs or watchin’ his back for months.

He slumps against the car, tryin’ to think fast, but then she’s on him, latchin’ onto his bad shoulder, fingers diggin’ in right where it screams.

Pain flares in him as she hauls him down, goin’ for a kiss. He grabs her and holds her back at a distance.

A heavy breath kicks outta her. “That it? You fuckin’ teasin’ me, Andrew?”

Tease? Shit, she wants him right here. Right now. In this garage.

And there ain’t no fantasy to offer.

Not when she’s already livin’ inside one.

And he’s past the stage of exhaustion when grown men cry. ‘Cause he knows he’s the reason it got this bad.

If he doesn’t give her what she wants, will she spin a rejection into sexual assault? It happens. A guy alone with a woman in the middle of the night in a parking garage? Who’ll the cops really believe? One hundred fuckin’ percent not him.

He checks the garage for cameras, his last shot at salvation.

But there ain’t any, and a breath escapes him broken, resigned, the fight leavin’ him all at once. Then he folds to his knees right there on the concrete. He fuckin’ surrenders, waitin’ for her to take whatever she came for.

“Yeah,” she smirks, “that’s what I fuckin’ thought.”