Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Killion: When were you going to tell me that you’re now Scottie’s business partner?
Camille: She told you?
Killion: Yeah, apparently she’s been in town since last week and just now she decided to grace me with her presence. Something about saying hello before she heads back home.
Camille: We signed yesterday. I’m nervous and excited.
Killion: Why?
Camille: Excited because there’s a lot happening, but nervous because I need to find a place. The owners of this penthouse need their place back within the next two months.
Killion: Are you going back to California?
Camille: Not right now. With Scottie living on this side of the country it makes sense that I stay at least for six months. That’s how long I leased my house. I’m technically displaced.
Killion: Why are the owners of the penthouse asking for their place?
Camille: Leasing it to me was a favor for their friends. Since I’m no longer working with them . . . you know.
Killion: Do you have a leasing contract?
Camille: Yes, but in the contract it says they can ask me to move out with a sixty-day notice.
Killion: You can move in with me.
Camille: Nope. We’re going steady, not skipping steps. If you’re not willing to have sex with me . . .
Killion: (choking with laughter) Hold on—what? Not willing to have sex with you? Where are you even getting that?
Camille: (grinning) Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the whole peck-on-the-lips-and-behave routine you’ve been pulling lately. Feels like you’re holding out on me, Crawford.
Killion: I am not holding out. I’m trying to be a gentleman until I win your heart back.
Camille: A gentleman? Wow, you’re really going for the long game, huh? What’s next, flowers at my doorstep and a mixtape of ‘90s boy bands?
Killion: I was going to go with early 2000s emo, but thanks for ruining the surprise.
Camille: Seriously, though. I’m not moving in with you just because I’m technically homeless. That’s a huge step.
Killion: And offering you a roof over your head is somehow a step bigger than, oh, I don’t know, having me do that thing you like with my . . .
Camille: Okay, okay, point made.
Killion: Thought so.
Camille: Look, the no-moving-in thing isn’t about you. I just don’t want to be that girl. The one who moves in, eats all your snacks, takes over your bathroom, and starts hiding your stuff when you forget to do the dishes. I don’t think you’re ready for a roommate like me.
Killion: You mean living with my dream girl?
Camille: Oh, please. You’d regret it the second you opened your fridge and realized I replaced your beer with kombucha.
Killion: You wouldn’t.
Camille: Try me.
Killion: (sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose) Fine. Don’t move in yet, but we have sixty days to make you realize we can be epic roommates.
Camille: You’re stubborn, Crawford.
Killion: Yeah, and apparently off my game.
Camille: I hope not, because you have one coming up this weekend.
Killion: Yep. Are you going to eat dinner with me tonight?
Camille: Another invitation. I’m starting to like you, Crawford.
Killion: Is that a yes?
Camille: It’s a definitely ‘let’s have dinner together, but I’ll cook tonight.’
Killion: I think I like you more than this morning, Ashby. See you later tonight.