Page 19 of Second Quarter Comeback
“Hey,” I greet her, unsure on how this is going to go down.
“Hi,” she says, her voice calm and smooth, with awarmth that hits me straight in the gut. Exactly how I remember it.
“Sorry,” she continues, a small, apologetic smile playing on her lips. “Am I blocking the entire floor? These guys swear they’re the best, though. They’ll have it done before you have to head to . . .” Her eyes flick to the bag slung over my shoulder. “The gym? Or wherever.”
That’s all it takes. A few words, one look, and I know.
It’s her.
Camille.
The woman who once made my world spin. The woman I loved so hard, I couldn’t keep her. And the woman I’ve spent every day since trying—and failing—not to think about.
“No worries,” I manage, though my throat feels tight. “Just moving in or helping a friend?”
“Moving in.” She nods, her focus shifting back to the movers. “First day. The movers were late, of course, but they’ve been great. So far.”
“Welcome to the city,” I say, my voice dipping into something smoother, almost instinctive. “If you need tips—best fries, where to grab coffee, anything—I’m right next door.”
Her brow furrows, her lips parting slightly in confusion. “Okay, thank you,” she replies cautiously, like she’s not sure if I’m weird or just overly friendly.
“We can catch up?—”
She cuts me off, tilting her head. “I’m going to stop you right there. Why are you being so . . . friendly? Did you see me on social media or something? Got the wrong idea, buddy? Because I’m not here to make friends.”
“No, it’s not—social media?” I blink, confused.
Her lips purse. “Oh. So . . . are you the marketing guy Liz mentioned lived in the same building? Sorry, creeps tend to be over friendly sometimes.”
“What?” I step closer, my gaze locking onto hers, refusing to let this moment slip away. “Camille, it’s me. Killion. Killion Crawford.”
She tilts her head, her expression blank, like I’m just another stranger in her way. “Did we meet at one of those branding workshops? Sorry, I’m terrible with names—and faces. Give me a textbook and I’ll memorize it. People . . . it’s hard.”
Her words hit harder than they should, a punch right to the chest. My jaw tightens as I take another step, closing the distance between us. “No. You don’t get to play I never met you,” I say, looking at her intensely. The same way I did when I was about to fuck her. “I’m Killion. The guy you dated during your freshman year of college. The one who?—”
Stop, my brain screams, but the memories crash over me like a tidal wave, dragging me under. The way her skin felt under my hands, soft and warm, her breath hitching when I kissed that spot behind her ear. The way she whispered my name like it was her favoritesecret as I showed her just how good we could be together. The way she’d pull me closer in the middle of the night, her body molding to mine like we were made to fit.
She was my first everything in all the ways that matter. The first girl I made laugh so hard she cried. The first girl who trusted me with every part of herself—body, mind, soul. And yeah, the first girl I taught how to touch herself, to really touch herself, until she came undone beneath me. I thought I had time to figure out how to keep her, but I was wrong, and I fucking blew it.
I swallow hard, the ache of losing her burning in my chest like it just happened yesterday. I want to grab her, kiss her, make her remember me—not the quarterback or the guy who left, but the boy who was hers before the rest of the world got in the way.
Her eyes widen for a second, the tiniest crack in her composure, before she lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh. That fucking Killion,” she says, her tone cutting, dripping with sarcasm. “Well, then. Walk away, Crawford. You and I have nothing to say to each other.”
Her words are ice, but the fire in her eyes tells a different story. There’s still something there, buried deep, beneath the anger and hurt. I know it because I feel it too—like a live wire humming between us, ready to spark at the slightest touch.
“Cam—” I start, but she holds up a hand, silencing me.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare,” she says, her voice low and firm, but there’s a faint tremor that tells me I’ve shaken her. “I hope you got everything you wanted in life, Killion. Now, leave me the fuck alone.”
She turns back to the movers, her fingers gripping the clipboard so tightly her knuckles pale. Her jaw clenches, but she doesn’t look at me again. Not even a glance.
I stand there, frozen, watching her bark instructions to the movers like she’s in control, like I didn’t just rip open a wound she thought was long healed. She’s more beautiful now than she was at eighteen, with the same fire, the same determination. But there’s a wall around her I never had to fight before, and I don’t know if I can climb it.
All I know is that I still want to. Even after all these years, after all the mistakes, I still want her.
Chapter Eleven
Killion
