Page 186 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

watching them make my drink.

As if the bartender’s going to slip in cyanide. Or God forbid, an extra ice cube.

He's looking back every nine seconds.

I've counted.

That's barely enough time for me to get to the exit.

I nail my spine to the wall,

willing myself to stay.

Or run while I have the chance.

No, no. C'mon, Allison.

You can want one person and not die.

One mouth. One man.

People do this every day.

Some of them even seem happy.

And it's not like you're giving up orgasms.

You're giving up mediocre orgasms.

Andrew glances over his shoulder at me, making sure I’m still here.

I smile. Wave.

He squints. Waves back.

Feels the unease, the nerves,

the dirty dread pacing on cold feet.

He taps the bar with the bottom of his fist, impatient, anxious, eyes back on the bartender.

Then two girls slide up on each side of him. One of them belongs in a music video. Another’s wearing cut-off shorts and a studded belt—the one bold enough to put her hand on his arm.

Before it lands,

Andrew pulls his arm back.

He says something I can’t hear, slides bills across the counter, pockets his wallet, takes the drinks, turns⁠—

And he catches me staring.

The world paused long enough for him to hold me in his gaze.

Then his shoulders fall with a stupid little smile. It’s the shape of an open hand reaching for mine.

All over again, it says,

Don’t run yet.