Page 465 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

“Ben—he broke the frames on the wall.

“Your records.

“And you wrote my song,” he says,

eyes straining against the steam,

refusing to look away, refusing to blink.

Then he steps all the way in⁠—

shirt,

pants,

sneakers,

him,

all of it.

He’s soaked in seconds,

both hands coming over my face.

My breath catches,

but he doesn’t let me take another.

He takes it for himself,

pulling me toward him.

His mouth falls onto mine,

lips parted, breath spilling hot,

tongue sliding in as we sink into each other with a slow, aching exhale, like we’ve both been holding our breaths for weeks.

Then his whole body folds forward,

and he pulls himself deeper into me.

Water crashes down over both of us,

burns down our faces,

seeps into our mouths.

I’m clutching his soaked sweater.

He’s grabbing me, pulling me closer⁠—

one hand sliding into my soaked hair,

tilting my mouth up,

the other sweeping down my hip,