Page 364 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Andrew empties his pockets⁠—

a wine key,

a microfiber cloth⁠—

and points at me.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

He turns to the other bartender. “You got the rest of the night covered, man.”

The guy nods. “Thanks for the help.”

Andrew’s rounding the bar,

sleeves shoved up,

hair not perfect anymore,

sweat at his temple.

I turn in the stool to follow him.

“Andrew… where are you⁠—”

But he’s coming for me,

not stopping until he’s in front of me,

my knee brushing against his thigh now,

and it feels like… home.

Then he slows down all the way,

the jazz slipping underwater,

the laughter blurring,

the Christmas lights melting,

as his warm palm cups my jaw,

thumb brushing my cheekbone.

He lifts my face until we’re looking into each other’s eyes.

Then his gaze falls to my mouth,

and he breathes out,

inching closer

with that slow-motion tilt of his head…