Page 505 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

just as the song fades in.

Then we’re flying into the empty dark, the strobing yellow blur of the highway lights stroking the hood.

The track builds, electronic throbs layering and layering—a cold ache starting in my ribcage and pulling down into my stomach.

My chest feels pressure, like someone else’s heart’s moving inside, pressing up right next to mine.

It feels so full, it starts to heave.

The music gives me no relief,

it only swells as the cold air bites,

the hazy heat slides up,

an immortal rush.

The winter wind pulses alongside it⁠—

a rhythmic thud-thud-thud-thud

beating into the car.

The music’s racing to the breaking point,

a wild panic of a heart rate speeding up.

My throat goes tight

with a sudden urge to cry⁠—

And when the chorus breaks,

and the heavy beat punches cold into your face,

the urge snaps at the climax⁠—

leaving, not tears, but a smile.

Andrew and I look over at the same time.

He’s smiling too.

“Feel that?” I ask him.

“Yeah.”

“That’s you.”

“That’s me?”

I nod, looking out the windshield again.

“That’s what you feel like to me.”

He hits the blinker.

My eyes dart back to him.