Page 10 of Endgame

My eyes find him and send him a small nod. “Let’s get this over with.”

Callaway follows me quietly as I guide us up the apartment steps. The place now feels so foreign and strange—a peculiar feeling after living here a few months ago.

Trevor left the spare key under the mat for me to enter. I hastily grab it, breathing in a heavy sigh at the thought of revisiting this place.

These walls are filled with so many memories I’d like to forget.

Callaway doesn’t make a sound, and I’m grateful for thequiet he provides. It takes me a couple of tries before the key gives way, opening the heavy door before me.

Trevor left it exactly how it’s always been—minus the photos of us littered around the space.

Except without my care, it feels dirty and dry—much like him.

How did I ever live here?

“How can I help?” I almost forget I’m not alone, Cal’s deep voice startling me for a moment.

Looking around the living room, I search my eyes for any miscellaneous things I may have forgotten. “Um, I don’t see anything out here, so maybe we can grab the last few things from the bedroom?”

He nods his head, directing me to lead the way.

As we head towards the room, I hear Callaway stop on a chuckle. “What the fuck is this? Trevor seems to be slightly in love with himself, angel.”

Stop calling me that.

He’s not wrong. Trevorhasalways been in love with himself.

It’s part of the problem, I’d say. Callaway is laughing at Trevor’s college football picture from his senior year at Georgia State. He looks ridiculous looking at it now. His chest and cheeks are puffed out like they're full of acorns, and his eyes are bulging from their sockets.

The aura of the picture screamsI’m a beefhead.

He wouldhave an enlarged picture of himself be the only thing hanging on these walls. Arrogant prick.

I carry on, my footsteps now syncing with Callaway’s as we enter Trevor’s bedroom. My old bedroom.

“So, this is where the magic happened?” I wonder if he can read into my sarcastic laugh. Not likely; I’ve always had a dry sense of humor.

“Or lack thereof.”

“Ooh sounds like a sore subject.” That’s the understatement of the century.

“You have no idea.”

I make my way to the closet, happy to see the lack of things Trevor now has without me living here. Seeing him go without something for a change makes me oddly satisfied.

I grab the first box on top and begin shuffling it around to make sure nothing is missing before Callaway speaks up. “Douche boy couldn’t find the sweet spot, I’m guessing?

I answer before thinking about what he asked me.

“More like didn’t even try.” Foot meet mouth. That information is none of his business, and I need to do better about keeping my mouth shut.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You were his girlfriend, right?”

I glance at him, hoping he can see how painful this conversation is for me. “Yes, Callaway. Keyword,was.” He looks genuinely confused.

Yes, pretty boy. Not every man in this world is wired to look and act as perfect as you.

“Why?” He really is nosey. My suspicions in the car have only been confirmed.

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