Page 89 of Playful Kris

“I did not freak.”

“He did. He freaked.”

I throw my head to the ceiling, willing this all to end now.

“Fine, yes. I freaked. I fucked up, and now I’ve lost her for good. I wanted to say how I feel about her, but I panicked because the idea of forever freaked me the fuck out and I seriously fucked up. She hates me and won’t return my calls or text messages. Happy?” I suck a breath into my lungs, feeling the sting from that ache in my chest like always.

There’s complete silence on the other end of the phone. Well, shit.

“Are you still there?” I ask, feeling like an idiot for just running at the mouth the way I did.

“Kris,” Ruby’s soft voice fills the line, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to feel sorry for,” I tell her. This is all on me.

“It sucks to be heartbroken, Kris.”

I sigh, because that’s exactly what I am. The only difference is I’m the only one that breaks my heart, every fucking time. And I break Kameron’s right along with it.

“But, if you love her, there’s still hope. Go after her, make things right. You have that Christmas Bazaar coming up, right?”

“Right.”

“Then go get her, man,” my brother chimes in. “Don’t wait any longer, take it from me. You’re missing out.”

“Yeah, I need to just tell her. But I can’t get her to take my calls.”

“Figure it out, quit being a pussy.”

“Dude.” I laugh. “I will.”

“Don’t make me intervene, Kris,” Ruby teases, except I know she will. “She has seemed miserable since the wedding, if that helps any.”

Miserable? Kameron?

That both makes me feel like the biggest piece of shit and excited at the same time. That means our weekend meant more to her than just a weekend of friends with benefits too.

“It does, thanks.”

“Anytime, now if you’ll excuse me, I have husbandly duties to take care of today. Bye.” My brother laughs, and ends the call abruptly.

Gross. I didn’t need to know that much.

Pulling up her contact, I move to the message icon, but my finger hovers before I hit the call button and the ringing sounds.

“Hello,” she says, sounding flustered.

“Hey.”

There’s a shuffle, like she’s maneuvering the phone. “Kris?”

What the hell? Did she delete my number?

“Uh, yeah?”

“Sorry, I didn’t look at the caller ID before answering.” Her tone changes slightly, but she’s not as cold as I expected her to be.

“I, uh, wanted to call to, um…” What the hell is wrong with me?

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