Page 582 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

shoes squeaking, badges swinging.

So I take his hand and pull him around the corner, into the small empty space by the service elevator. The second we turn the corner, Andrew backs into the wall and drops his head against it.

“Andrew, c’mon.

“I know when you’re not good.”

He lets go of my hand.

But then grabs it again before it falls,

gripping it tighter.

I stand beside him,

leaning against the wall, facing him.

Now that it’s only us,

the panic finds holes to slip out through.

His breath comes out harsher, jagged,

as if he’s been holding it for hours.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers,

squeezing his eyes shut.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

His throat works once, then again,

as if he’s trying to swallow rocks.

Panic shoots red up his neck,

and he turns into me, a hand to the wall,

caging me in,

needing somewhere to put the storm.

I slide his hand off the wall and bring it to my face. “Hey, I’m right here.”

He hangs his head,

his breath hitting between my brows.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers heavy,

thumb stroking my cheekbone.

“For what?”

His inhale’s shaky and leaves broken.

“All of it. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”