Page 9 of Second Quarter Comeback
Camille
I’m slippingon a pair of boots when Zindy materializes in the doorway, leaning against the frame like she’s the queen of judgment. Her sequined pajama top glimmers under the soft yellow light, as if to remind me she exists in a universe where “casual” involvesglitter.
“You’re getting dressed? At almost seven? On a school night?” Her tone hovers between amused and appalled. “What is happening to you, Camille Ashby?”
“Welcome back,” I reply, zipping up my boots. “You’ve been gone almost all week.”
“That senior guy I met at the party has been keeping me busy, if you know what I mean,” she says, her voice taking on a dreamy, faraway quality. “We’re seeing each other. I mean, just temporarily. He’s graduating soon, and you know I don’t do commitment.”
“Obviously,” I mutter, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Zindy doesn’t do long term anything. Everything in her life is temporary, and I stopped trying to figure out why two months into living with her.
Her eyes narrow as she shifts focus. “The real question is, where are you going?”
“Dinner,” I say, keeping my tone casual. “I just finished studying, and I?—”
“Are we having dinner with the hunk you were making out with last night?” she interrupts, crossing her arms like she’s caught me sneaking out past curfew.
“How—” I start, but she cuts me off with a knowing chuckle.
“Oh, sweetie,” she says, shaking her head. “You think I didn’t notice the tall guy on top of you when I tried to come to our room last night? Hence me spending the night with Roger—again.”
I freeze, busted. “I . . .”
She raises an eyebrow, victorious. “That’s the same guy you were hanging out with at the party, isn’t it? I saw you two leave early. So spill. What’s going on?”
I shrug, smoothing the hem of my sweater as if that’ll keep my blush at bay. “We’re having fun.”
“Fun, huh?” She gives me the once-over, her eyes lingering on my outfit—dark skinny jeans, a fitted sweater, and my favorite boots. “Fun could use a little more color. And mascara. But seriously, who is he?”
“A junior,” I lie. Technically, he was a junior last semester. It’s not my fault she’s asking trick questions. Besides, if she knew it was Luc Crawford’s older brother, she’d combust on the spot.
“Major?” she asks, clearly not buying it.
“Not sure. It hasn’t come up yet,” I say, which isn’t exactly a lie, but it’s not the full truth either.
She smirks. “With his tongue down your throat and his hands running every play in the book, I doubt majors were part of the conversation.”
I glare at her, grabbing my coat. “It’s not like that.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly not convinced. “So what is it like?”
“It’s . . . fun,” I say again. Even I’m annoyed by how lame that sounds.
Zindy studies me like she’s trying to crack a code. After a moment, she nods. “Okay. But if he screws this up, I will destroy him. Just so you know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I mutter, ducking past herbefore she launches into one of her TED Talks on love and revenge.
I head downstairs, pulling my coat tighter as the brisk evening air seeps into the dorm lobby. And then I see him—Killion Crawford, leaning casually against the wall by the doors like he owns the place. His leather jacket fits perfectly, his hair is just the right amount of messy, and when his eyes lock on me, his whole face softens in a way that makes my heart skip a beat.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low and warm as he steps toward me.
“Hey,” I manage, barely above a whisper, and before I can overthink it, his lips find mine.
It’s not a quick, friendly kiss. It’s lingering, deliberate, and leaves me clinging to him like my brain’s forgotten how legs work. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me closer, and the heat between us feels dangerously addictive. When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless, and I can’t decide if I want to punch him for being this perfect or kiss him again.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
“My place,” he says, his hand finding mine as we step outside. “Dad’s out of town for the week. I might even be able to convince him to let me stick around and train here until May. Maybe even June.”
