Living With The Player

**CAMILLA RENÉE**

**PRESENT TIME**

“Camilla!”

I was jerked back to reality, Dylan shook my shoulders roughly forcing my mind out of the pit it had entered while thinking about that night.

The kiss didn’t wash off quickly, I shook my head a couple of times until it engulfed in the air and returned to being just a past. A nasty past.

“Did you call me? I’m sorry, I signed off. I was thinking of something. Sorry.”

I said gulping. His eyes went to my hands.

My eyes widened thinking I held the earring still, it wasn’t in my hand.

I recall dropping it. I forgot again after drifting into affairs of the past. Now I just look stupid.

I switched my gaze to the desk where it laid comfortably, then back at Dylan who now seemed nervous.

“Umm that belonged to someone I knew. It’s not what you were thinking with the bikinis.”

I cringed my nose, a fuzzy vision getting into my head of I and Dylan doing that said thing.

Not happening. Not in this lifetime or the next.

Gross. Someone he knew though? That night was the only time we’ve had an encounter, yet he said knew? He felt as though he knew me? But he doesn’t even recall or else we wouldn’t be standing feet away as strangers.

Ugh.

I released a deep breath with every instinct inside of me compelling me to ask further questions. It took my entire will to fight it off, I knew if I did, I would slip up during the process.

I’ll let myself get carried off and in the middle, he will unravel everything.

Not today. I’ve had enough drama with the pool, a maybe kiss, older brother, can’t take two years ago.

I had to let it slide.

“Oh, I was just admiring it because it’s one earing, it’s beautiful either way.”

I brushed the topic off, grinning widely.

Since he was far off, standing by the closet and all, he couldn’t scrutinize me.

He had his shirt on thankfully so that case is close.

It’s time for me to leave before something else goes amiss. I tilted my head, one final peek at that little beauty.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

My lips tugged in a smile. It’s a work of art.

“If only he knew how much it meant to me, the truth behind it. If only he remembered everything clearly and not just bits and pieces, he wasn’t completely ignorant, but he hasn’t gotten ahold of the bigger picture, I’m too big of a coward to hand him the pieces.”

I exhaled.

Nothing hides forever though.

Maybe someday Dylan Emerton, someday I’ll be able to tell you everything, come clean and fuck every consequence. That day isn’t today.

I snapped my head back to him, he had suspicious eyes on me.

I cleared my throat.

“Leave now.”

I thought facing him with a smile plastered on my face.

“Well instead of studying as you suggested, I could show you other things.”

He narrowed his gaze.

“Not what you’re thinking of darling if you want that just ask. I’m talking about soccer things, music, my medals, not my dick.”

He cocked his head sideways. I choked a second time.

“I wasn’t….”

I tried to defend, trailing off after getting distracted by his never-ending smirk.

“Fine.”

I accepted grudgingly.

“Just ask Camilla..”

I snorted, getting out of the corner, back to the centre of the room waiting on his move.

****

My eyes were on him as we talked about random things.

There is more to Dylan Emerton than just a playboy or an entitled rich kid.

So much more.

For one, he loved soccer more than I thought.

It’s usually a sixth sense, a thing for guys, they have to do it so people don’t get the wrong ideas, or they aren’t ridiculed by their peers, but with Dylan.

It’s not just a sport. It’s passion.

That’s why he played so well on the field.

He genuinely loves it.

His phone screen saver was also a picture of a player, I explained the paintings on the wall. There was also a ball which didn’t make sense since the room couldn’t contain it, but still, it’s all fitting perfectly.

In between the talks and laughs, I hadn’t noticed a lot of time had passed, I glanced at the time and it was almost 8 pm.

“Shit. It’s late. I should go freshen up then maybe dinner.”

He nodded silently.

“Have dinner with us?”

I hardly ever. It’s weird to say that, he thinks I mean cereal and milk in my room.

Not tonight.

“Yes.”

I gave him a small smile before standing up.

“Perfect.”

He beamed, reaching his feet almost the same time as I did, pecking my cheeks lightly. My smile grew wider, maybe a blush on both cheeks as well.

That’s so normal. The peck. It’s what boys do to girls they Uhm…

I’m jumping off a cliff into an ocean of confusion. Let’s not do that.

“Thanks for this today. The coffee for starters, then the pool of course, and this place. Thank you.”

I didn’t understand the last one or why he’s thanking me, but I gave a nod regardless.

******

For the first time in a while, I took a bath and went downstairs for dinner.

Dinner with my parents if they are still around. Dinner with the Emertons. Blake included.

Should be fun.

Not.

As always, I picked a casual outfit, a baggy jumpsuit which I could sleep in.

Once I was fully clothed, I left my room and strode downstairs, my feet hitting each stair as I slowly passed through them.

I made a mental note to ask my mom to take me to the mall during the weekends.

It’s just a way to get out while being grounded, I doubt she’ll say no.

I needed new clothes. Considering the others were burnt down and all.

Then again, what do I know? Mother and Father could disappear into the night without so much as a goodbye.

A girl can hope. A girl will hope.

Hope is the I have left.

****

Everyone got seated quickly, my eyes darted to the table, digging into my meal as did everyone else.

I didn’t mind taking the seat close to Dylan.

He can’t do anything at the table. My parents are here, his as well then there’s his older brother.

Dad however did little to hide his distaste for our closeness.

An overprotective Father. What more could I want? Oh I know, an “around” Father.

“So son, how’s college?”

Mr Emerton asks after a few minutes, shoving the fork filled with a piece of meat in his mouth.

“Great.”

He beams, his tone filled with nothing but excitement and maybe pride.

Maybe.

I glance at Dylan and watch his neutral expression, his pressed lips, straight face, minding his business and eating.

He’s doing that fast. Eating that is. I bet he’ll rather be anywhere else but here.

Their question makes me wonder how many times his parents had asked him how was high school. Sure it’s high school, but still school.

My heart sunk.

I don’t think they ever do. That sucks.

“You should come home more often.”

Again, I look towards Dylan. He frowns for a second before straightening his face once again. Disappears as quickly as it comes.

“You’ll be seeing more of me.”

I dart across the table where he’s seated.

He’s talking to me?

Oh, not good. Not good.

I’ve made it point to avoid his gaze, it’s the first time we’re making eye contact after the “pool incident”

In his night wears, I swoon for a minute.

Hot.

I turn away abruptly, this time not daring to check Dylan’s reaction. He’s frowning or glaring.

Should’ve just stayed in my room or something.

“So Camilla.”

He calls out my name.

Oh shit.

Out of courtesy, I look up to meet his eyes.

Aren’t we supposed to not talk during dinner? Why aren’t his parents calling him out for that?

Not good.

“Yes…”

I say half-smiling.

“As I said, I was hoping we could spend some time together. In that spirit, would you want to watch a movie after dinner, you should see the theatre.”

If it wasn’t for the number of adults around, my jaw would drop.

I can hear Dylan’s breath quicken beside me, again I do not dare look.

His brother did not just ask me out in front of my parents and his. Well indirectly, it’s more like showing me the theatre, but if he wanted that he should have said it. Instead he requested to watch a movie then added showing it off.

Clever. I’ll admit.

Girls find this sort of boldness hot, but I only want to get swallowed and disappear.

How can he ask me out? Watching a movie together counts as a date? Right?

I’m sure, why would he?

I recall Dylan’s words and they seem plausible, but still the nerve.

I can’t look at Dylan. His looks would kill.

Maybe a peak though.

I tilt my head and he’s already staring. Retract that. He’s fucking glaring. His hand is wrapped tightly around the spoon, not eating any longer I see, murderous looks in those brown eyes, brows shot up in anger, lips pressing down harder than I’ve ever seen.

Swallow me now. Please.

*****

*Author’s Note*

*What do you think about Blake’s intentions? Will Camilla give in? Dylan’s reaction? Let me hear your thoughts. The next chapter is late today or tomorrow. C*