Page 297 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Look up.

His eyes sweep the bar like a searchlight, snagging on mine in the corner by the window, then his expression caves in.

Each time, it starts the same:

dirty texts,

stolen glances

during borrowed seconds,

eyes flicking up into mirrors,

micro-smirks across a room

of thirty strangers,

don’t-move looks pinned to me

as back-room doors swing shut.

Each time,

our eyes find each other in crowds,

across streets,

in too-big lobbies,

soon as elevator doors open,

in the dark of my bedroom

at four in the morning.

Each time, he’s snatching my hand,

taking me down halls,

dragging me around corners,

slamming me against walls,

pulling me into backseats,

barely waiting for elevator doors to close,

slipping between cool sheets.

Each time, I try to catch my breath

as his fingers trail up my thighs.

His middle hooks my panties,

my damp sticking to his skin.

Each time, he spreads me wider, wider.