Page 201 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Our shoulders drop as we exhale.

It’s fake calm.

Inside, my body’s throwing chairs and lighting cigarettes. My heart’s giving my brain the middle finger, saying,

See, wiseguy? Told you he’d get in.

But my brain’s too busy laughing like⁠—

Ya outta ya fuckin’ mind.

Gimme a call when it all burns to hell.

Then there’s Andrew, his thumb brushing my jaw, hearing the arguing inside me and bringing me back to him.

I sigh in surrender, then shove his stomach with the force of a girl trying not to kiss him.

He catches my hand

and pulls himself back in,

mouth landing

on the center of my forehead,

kissing me there, lips lingering.

Then he rips himself away.

“Stay put, Sonny. Don’t move. I’m grabbin’ us shots from the bar.” My eyeroll dies halfway when his finger cuts through the air, pointing at me. “Don’t roll your eyes. One shot. That’s it. We’re toastin’—to the contract, to you for lettin’ me keep you, to me not losin’ my fuckin’ mind tonight… pick one.” His knuckles tap the pool table on his way to the bar. “An’ table’s ours ‘til the hour’s up. Rack ‘em if you want another shot at losin’.”

I hop off the stool and circle the table, plucking balls out of the pockets and rolling them across the felt. When I glance up, Andrew’s already at the bar. He throws one look over his shoulder, giving me that pussy-soaking smile that slides through me.

I reach for another ball⁠—

A phone rings.

The sound’s crawling out of Andrew’s backpack on the floor, light bleeding through the half-open zipper.

I crouch, ready to silence it,

and freeze mid-reach.

It’s not the same phone I’ve seen him with. This one’s older with a black case, screen cracked.

‘No’ flashes across the screen.

I kill the sound.

‘No’ disappears when the ringing stops.

The screen screams:

277 missed calls. 99+ texts.

What the fuck.

My stomach falls hollow.