Page 32 of Second Quarter Comeback
Killion: One chance?
Killion: Fine, ignore me. But remember, I never give up.
Chapter Eighteen
Camille
The Dirty Fry Tactic
Killion’s texts have me trembling with anger. Is he kidding me?I made a mistake and just give me another chance.Like it was yesterday and he only told meI can’t go out tonight but see you tomorrow. That’s not how the break up went. I know it, he knows it . . . and obviously he forgot how bad it was. Well, he didn’t stay to see me cry like a baby who couldn’t be consoled with anything. My parents even thought something bad had happened to me because I was just crying and not eating at all.
The moment Dad told me he was cancelling the second summer session I wiped the tears and swallowed all the pain. Killion wasn’t going to take everything away from me. I had a plan and I would be executing it, even if it was happening with a broken heart. Look at me now, being a doctor and . . . not having to deal with assholes like him.
But of course, I’m so worked up that today I have to call Zindy.
“You know what’s more annoying than having Killion Crawford texting you that he wants a second chance?” I say, gripping my phone like it’s the only thing keeping me sane. “Him sending me fries. Greasy, warm fries with ranch dressing.”
“Umm, hello to you too,” Zindy responds, her voice amused on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, good whatever to you,” I blurt, pacing the length of my apartment.
“You want to talk about it?” she asks, her tone shifting to something softer. “Let’s start with . . . did you say Killion fucking Crawford?”
“Yes, that one,” I mumble, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see me. “He’s my neighbor.”
There’s a pause, then a loud gasp. “And why am I just learning this now?”
“Last night I was too flustered to call, and today has been a long day,” I explain, switching the phone to my other hand.
“But you called me last night to ask why Benedict ended up on your neighbor’s doorstep,” she says. “You could’ve mentioned then thattheKillion Crawford was right next door.”
“Oh, right. I forgot to mention that he’s the neighbor,” I say, my tone dripping with false innocence. “And he fucking dares to send me fries. Like . . . how dare he?”
“I see. This is worse than I thought,” she says, and I can practically hear her shaking her head. “So, you live next door to the bastard, he had your precious Ben, and now he’s bribing you.”
“And did you hear the part where he’s asking for a second chance?” I ask, my voice climbing.
“After what he did?” she huffs indignantly. “Asshole. I can have my husband there in no time. He can take a swing or two—after asking for his autograph and a signed jersey. You know, they sell for a lot.”
“Zindy, focus,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just . . . wow. The audacity of this guy. What did you even say to him?”
“Nothing yet. What am I supposed to say? Thanks for the fries, but also, fuck you for breaking my heart?”
“Fries are a dirty tactic,” she says, and I can hear the grin in her voice. “He knows your weaknesses. He’s playing dirty. Typical Killion.”
“Exactly,” I say, throwing myself onto the couch. “This is what he does. He’s all charm and big gestures, and then when it really matters, he drops the ball. He’s a quarterback. How does he keep dropping the fucking ball?”
“That’s a question for a sports caster,” she says, but then there’s a loud crash in the background, followed by what sounds like a kid screaming.
“Zindy?” I ask, sitting up.
“Hold on,” she says, her voice muffled as she yells something about putting the lamp down and not climbing the bookshelf.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Depends on your definition of okay,” she says, coming back on the line. “My house is basically a war zone, thanks to my offspring. One second. Connor. No.”
