Page 7 of Second Quarter Comeback
Camille:Probably, don’t you need to be trainingor something?
Killion:Yes, but not until noon. I have a few hours to spare and I was wondering if I could spare them with you.
Camille:So I’m like your second choice, your afterthought? You make me feel fuzzy and warm on the inside.
Killion:Actually, I promised Dad I would work out tomorrow if he let me start late today. I did that so I could eat breakfast with you.
Camille: Oh.
Killion:Does that mean ‘yes, I’ll get dressed and see you in ten?’
Camille:Fine, but only breakfast.
Killion:Unless you change your mind (wink emoji)
Chapter Five
Killion
How to Turn Breakfast into a Date
I don’t know what it is about Camille Ashby that had me staring at the ceiling until almost three in the morning. Her green eyes, maybe—bright and intense, like they see straight through me. Or that fiery red hair that seems to catch the light and hold ithostage. Or maybe it’s the way talking to her feels so effortless, like we’ve known each other forever instead of just one day. It’s unsettling, really. Girls in high school and college only saw the quarterback—the guy with the arm, the wins, and the crowd’s approval. But Camille? She looks past all that. She sees . . . me. Or at least, she’s trying to.
It’s like she’s found the cracks in my walls and decided it’s her personal mission to tear them down. I don’t know if that’s exhilarating or terrifying, but either way, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About her. Hence, I shamelessly begged my dad to let me start late today. He agreed but reminded me I’ll be pulling double shifts for the rest of the week. Worth it.
Now, here I am, sitting across from Camille in a diner that looks like it hasn’t changed since they opened it decades ago. My parents used to bring us here when we lived in Boston, so there’s nostalgia baked into the smell of coffee and syrup. Camille is nursing a mug of coffee that’s seen better days, studying the laminated menu like the fate of the entire world depends on her choice. Her brow furrows, her lips press together, and she tilts her head slightly—like a scientist solving an impossible equation. It’s fucking adorable. Erase that, she’s fucking adorable.
“What’s good here?” she asks, finally glancing up.
“You can’t go wrong with the pancakes,” I tell her. “But fair warning—they’re almost as big as your head.”
She presses her lips together, shifting to one side. “Not sure I’m ready for that kind of commitment.Pancakes that big need a lot of syrup, and I don’t have time to go into a sugar coma. I reserve that for Halloween and other holidays.”
I laugh, leaning back in the booth. “Then try the omelet. It’s solid, or you can build your own if you’re feeling bold.”
“Do they have good fries?” she asks, her tone suspiciously serious.
“Fries? At breakfast?” I raise an eyebrow.
“They’re life,” she says with a shrug, handing her menu to the waitress who appears at just the right moment.
Camille orders like a pro: omelet with ham, broccoli, and mushrooms, coffee, fries (of course), and ranch on the side. She’s decisive, confident. Meanwhile, I stick with my usual—coffee, two eggs over easy, bacon, pancakes.
When the waitress leaves, Camille leans back, her gaze drifting over the mismatched decor. “You come here often?”
“Once or twice when I’m in town,” I say. “It’s quiet, no one bugs you, and the pie’s good. Not as good as the one yesterday, though.”
Her brow arches. “You eat pie for breakfast?”
“I’ve done worse,” I admit with a smirk. “Soda and chocolate. If my dad found out, he’d lose it.”
Camille chuckles, the sound light but genuine. She folds her hands, her fingers tracing small circles on the edge of the table, and then she levels me with a lookthat feels way too insightful. “So, Killion, tell me—what’s it like being you?”
“That’s a loaded question,” I say, leaning forward.
“Is it?” she asks, her expression somewhere between curious and amused.
“Depends,” I say, letting my grin soften. “Right now, being me means sitting across from a girl who’s too smart for me, wondering how I got lucky enough to have breakfast with her.”
