Page 553 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

No such thing as a high without the crash. So at some point, it'll happen. Might as well be now.

And really,

the only person I'd be hurting is myself,

disappointing myself,

fucking over myself.

Andrew and Allison is dead.

Limerence kills.

Love too, but this isn't love.

Love is mutual. Love is acceptance.

Love has a second person involved⁠—

two people choosing each other.

Limerence, however, is me lying in a motel bed at 8:43 AM, Googling why do I feel like I got shot ‘cause a man didn’t say words back and learning there’s a French-sounding term for being so fucking weak.

And then I’m standing there,

pulse not racing,

staring at stubby fingers,

fantasizing how it’d happen.

“Where’s your stockroom?” I’d ask.

Confusion would splash across his face… “Back there.” He'd lift his chin toward the narrow hallway.

I'd grab the bottle, slide it off the counter, start walking that way, looking over my shoulder with a smirk, making sure he’s following. The storage room is cramped, filled with shelves, crates, cardboard. I turn and lean back against the shelf as he comes through the swinging door behind me.

I twist off the whiskey cap

and take a long pull.

The alcohol doesn’t even burn.

I know what a real burn feels like.

I hold the bottle out to him.

“You nervous?”

“No.” He takes it, drinking from it next.

I grab his wrist and guide his stubby-fingered hand between my thighs, pressing his palm against my warm panties. He lets out a strangled noise. “Still nervous?”

He’s tongue-tied, fingers twitching.

I drag his rough hand inside my panties,

feeling his fat, calloused fingers glide through my pussy.