Page 442 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

His chest goes tight against my arm.

For a second, I think he might break.

But he doesn’t.

He grabs my arm, the grip doing two things at once: pushing me away before I destroy him completely, and holding me tighter so I don’t leave.

Then he swallows his next shaky breath down so hard I hear it. Like bone going back into place wrong.

“Andrew, let it out,” I say.

“Nah,” he grits out. “There’s too much fuckin’ shit. Shit I haven’t told you about.”

I can feel it, right under my palm, weighing on his chest. “Then get it out.”

He drags a hand down his face.

“This ain’t yours to deal with.”

I clutch him harder, pull him closer.

“Make it my shit. Please,” I say in his ear.

“I’ve made all my shit yours.”

He tips his head back against the cushion again.

I sweep my hand through his hair, pushing it back and off his forehead as he stares at the ceiling. “Andrew. When I tell you I want you? I mean all of you.”

His eyes flick to mine. ‘Cause he knows. They’re the same words I told him at Type that night. “You’re safe with me, too,” I remind him.

Then all I can do is lie beside him and wait, rubbing his chest as if I can erase it for him.

“Allison,” he says, lifting his head.

“Shit—this is so fucked up,

“I don’t even know where to start.”

He stares at the Christmas tree, eyes unfocused, lost in his head, seeing all the mess he’s been keeping locked up.

“Tammy—Mrs. Robinson—she had a son,” he tries again. “He was my best friend. We played ball together, and he—uh…” he squints as he says it, “he had feelings for me?” Like he didn’t know how else to put it.

“We never talked about it. Wasn’t mutual. I ain’t into men—I ain’t gay. Loved the kid. That was my boy. But not like that. And I wasn’t about to put him on the spot, force him to talk about it, risk losin’ my best friend over it. So when that shit went down with his mom, I had so much fuckin’ guilt. ‘Cause I knew he was into me like that. And it felt like… the thought of him finding out? I dunno, like it’d hurt him for real. Like I could come between him and his mom? But, shit. I didn’t fuckin’ ask for any of it.”

He scrubs his palms over his knees.

“Roger was messed up over a game one night, real bad. He was drunk off his ass. Cryin’. The whole nine yards. I was tryna be there for him. But wires must’ve crossed, ‘cause next thing I know, my best friend’s makin’ moves on me…”

He’s shaking his head,

like he doesn’t want to say it.

“I couldn’t fuckin’ say no.

“Wanted to,

“but I like physically fuckin’ couldn’t.