Page 503 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

my knuckles grazing his brows.

“Shit. Aight.”

He laughs awkward.

“Let’s get it outta the way.”

I squeeze his hand. “Did I write a song about someone else’s thong?”

His brows snap together, offended.

“They’re yours. You lunatic. Yours.

“Who the fuck else’s would they be?”

Relief leaves me. “Drew. Why do you have those under your pillow?”

He drops his head into my knuckles,

rolling it from side to side,

cursing himself.

When he lifts his head again,

he can barely look at me.

“Took ‘em ‘cause they’re yours.

“Ain’t a trophy or nothin’ just⁠—

“that’s it.”

The table falls quiet.

I let the silence sweat him out.

If I fill it, he gets rescued.

If I don’t, he confesses more.

His eyes slide back to mine.

He sees that I’m enjoying this,

and a staggering, ashamed smile hits him. “‘Cause I’m sick over you,” he finally says. “Happy?”

“No.” I pop a fry into my mouth.

“I want details, like⁠—

“what do you do with them at night?”

He’s shaking his head, face hot.

I push harder.

“C’mon, you can tell me.”