Page 502 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

and each time, I feel it in my thighs.

We end up in a diner with fogged windows, chrome details, red vinyl booths, and Christmas garland scalloping the counter.

Andrew orders. Everything.

Coffee. French toast. Pancakes. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Basket of fries. Onion rings. Christmas pie. And a melt with jalapeños.

After the waitress leaves, he wanders over to the neon-lit jukebox near the bathrooms. Stands in the dim corner with one hand in his pocket, head bent.

He presses one button.

Then another.

Then he pauses.

Looks back at me.

His smile hooks the corner of his mouth.

My stomach drops.

“Oh, no,” I say.

He presses the last button.

The jukebox clicks, and a second later,

“Bed of Roses” fills the diner.

I’m shaking my head slow.

The hot tub fantasy.

The firebird.

The midnight diner.

The song.

The date I built when I was drunk.

Andrew walks back to the booth.

Slides in across from me.

“So how’m I doin’ so far?”

“You’re a little shit,” I tell him.

He lifts his coffee, smirking.

“Your little shit.”

Long after the food arrives, he ends up beside me with his elbow leaned on the table and the back of my hand pressed to his mouth—not kissing it, just holding it against his lips.

“I have one question,” I say. “And it’s black and cotton and lives under your pillow.”

He turns his head away,