Living With The Player

**CAMILLA RENÉE**

RENÉE MANSION.

FRIDAY NIGHT.

The lighting noise jerks the entire house, Miranda jumps at the top of the stairs, squealing in fright.

I’m not phased. I don’t feel anything.

My tiny arms are around my chest while I drag my legs up the stairs, nearly tripping and falling over.

*Which wouldn’t be so bad.* Maybe when I go unconscious, I’ll wake up to the true reality that all this was just a nightmare. *A terrible one.*

I never went to that party. I never had fun with a random guy. Not only that, but I never participated in dare or dare. Miranda didn’t kiss my ex and the anti-climatic, I didn’t see him. I did not see him thrusting his length in her. I didn’t see her tits in the air, bouncing as she steadied herself on him.

Furthermore, I squeeze my eyes so hard they’re hurting, but I want the image to go away. It’s fixed in my head, I keep reliving it, and I just want it to go away.

My chest is tight as fuck. I can barely get a breath out without feeling the urge to gag. It hurts. I’m not sure what or why, but it just does.

“Camilla.”

Miranda calls beside me, softly caressing my arm.

“You should go.”

I croak, my voice is unrecognizable to my hearing.

“I can stay the night…”

“No, you should go.”

I sound like a broken record.

“Are you sure? I don’t know what happened…”

“He fucked Paula. That’s all. I want to take off my clothes before my parents get back. You should go.”

I repeat. Her jaw is on the floor. Is she shocked? But why? He’s a player. They fuck anything in a skirt, it’s part of the job description.

“I can stay. We’ll tell your parents it was a slumber party or…”

Another lightning struck.

“It’s going to rain soon, you should go.”

I avoid her suggestion and move away. I can’t deal with her at this moment, I want to sit under the shower and meditate.

I doubt I’ll cry, I’ve got zero tears left. I’ll just stay there for a while.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Please get some rest. He’s an asshole for doing that.”

I half scoff.

“He did nothing wrong.”

I find myself saying.

“He did. You don’t deserve that.”

“Too bad for me.”

I chuckle sarcastically.

“Camilla.”

“I’ll be fine.”

I lied.

“Camilla…”

“Please just… I need to be alone.”

My voice betrays me. Curse it. I crack like a broken soundtrack.

“I will give you a call tomorrow.”

I add, then clear my throat. Finally, she nods and tugs me for a hug.

I want to cry so bad. Miranda pulls away after a while, sniffling lowly. I manage a tight smile, pressing my lips into a fast line.

“Goodnight.”

I murmur, then watch her stride down the stairs before exiting the house.

Another lightning sound. This time, I shudder and slip to the ground. My legs clipped together, my back retreating until it’s against the wall, my hands still wrapped around my chest.

For a minute I just stay there, the entire house is quiet except for the weather outside, only my breathing is heard, I prefer it that way.

Minutes passed, then I lower my head and exhale. That’s when I heard a knock. My head snaps back up, a gasp escaping my lips.

My first thought is my parents. They’re supposed to be back after midnight. I think. It’s barely eleven-thirty, plus it’s their house, I doubt they’ll knock unless they forget their key.

Slowly, I pull myself off the ground and stand firm.

Miranda? She just left, why would she knock again? Unless she thought I already went back in.NôvelDrama.Org copyrighted © content.

Or maybe it’s someone else entirely.

Another knock. I’m tempted to ask who it is, but I stride down the stairs instead, peaking outside, where it’s already drizzling.

Third knock.

I slid through the living room and face the door, ducking my head to see the foot shadow of someone outside. Just one person.

Tentatively, I reach for the doorknob and pull, a gush of wind blowing my hair backwards and temporary blinding me from viewing. Once it cleared, I see exactly who was at my door.

My rage has returned. The air is sucked out again, and I stare plainly.

He stares back, tugging at his jacket, a little wet from the drizzle outside.

Finally, he parts his lips and speaks-

“Camilla.”

My name off his tongue ignites another rage in me.

I’m taking two steps, balling both hands and shoving him out into the drizzle.

Leaving my door wide open, I walk outside and meet his gaze, he’s still reeling from my push and there’s this look of surprise in his eyes.

What the fuck was Dylan thinking? He’ll come here and what? Call my name sweetly, and I run into his arms, we’ll cuddle in the cold weather then make love afterwards? Of course. He’s a player. I shouldn’t expect anything less.

Once he’s steadied, his eyes are fixed on mine. I’m breathing hard, scowling at him with every fibre in me. I’m angry. I’m fucking angry.

Before I can think, I’m marching to him again, lifting my right palm to his face. He doesn’t stop me, I hit him as hard as I can muster. His head swerves to the side, but he still doesn’t react.

“Ugh!”

I scream in frustration, clenching my right fist, grimacing hard.

“Camilla.”

He calls softly. That’s it.

My left hand is up and connecting with his stupid face. I want to scar it so badly, I want it destroyed, so I can’t look at it anymore. So I can’t remember every time that faces curved into a smirk. A smirk for me.

“Camilla.”

He chokes and the sound of his voice is annoying.

“Don’t fucking call my name!”

I scream. It’s a good thing it’s drizzling, no one will be outside. We’re like two crazy individuals arguing in the rain. My gown is getting soaked, but the pain in my chest makes me oblivious of almost everything that’s happening around me.

“Let me explain.”

He offers his breath, hot and still reeking of alcohol.

“Fuck that!”

I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to smack him again.

“Please.”

Is that desperation? I shake the thought of. I don’t care if it is. I don’t.

“No. No. No. Fuck no. I don’t want to hear anything from you. Get out. Just get out!”

I scream, tugging at my roots.

“Paula sent the text to you. That last one. I sent the first two, and when I saw you with that guy, I just got angry. I started drinking, and she was there…”

Before he could finish, I choke on a laugh.

Pressing my lips down, I try to hold it back, but it’s futile.

In the rain, I throw my head back and laugh. I cackle. I chuckle. I giggle. I laugh hard. I’m clutching my tummy and laughing harder than I’ve ever laughed. My hair is soaked and I’m still laughing.

Then I pause.

“Do you have to be such a cliché?”

I smirk, cocking my head at him.

“The bull story. You sent two texts. You saw me with another guy, then what? Did she fall on your dick? Somehow she pushed you into the room? Or what…? Did she rip your clothes off you? And then just accidentally hopped on your dick?”

I smirk again, nearly bursting into another round of laughter.

“Wait! Don’t tell me you were drugged?”

I fake a gasp.

“Oh my god, Dylan…”

I purse my lips. That’s sarcasm.

“No. I was not drunk.”

He mutters coldly. Is he mad now? He’s annoyed?

“That’s good then. It means there’s no excuse for what you did. I was talking to a guy, so you fucked Paula? How does that collaborate in any way? You’re fucking sick.”

I spat, full-on glaring once more.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Cam, I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, don’t call me that!”

I yell, shoving him back once again.

He regained stamina, exhaling deeply. A look crossed his eyes momentarily. Then, he’s marching toward me.

Confusion creases my brows, and before I can part my lips to speak, his are on mine. He’s fucking kissing me.

Both palms are on each side of my face, covering them entirely, and his mouth is pressing against mine. I don’t feel a damn thing. I don’t part my lips. I don’t kiss him back.

I just squeeze my eyes and take a breath.

Then, for the nth time this might, I fold my hands and push him off. My hand is back up. A tight slap across his cheeks.

Either he didn’t think I could push him off, or he wasn’t sure I had that much strength, either way, flashes of shock and hurt consume him.

The rain is getting heavier by the second, we’re both nearly drenched, and we just stand there.

I blink back the tears threatening to fall. I can’t laugh again. I scoff instead.

“The fuck do you think this is? A rom-com? You figure it’s raining, and you can just kiss me? A fucking kiss in the rain, and I’d what? Part my lips and dive your tongue, kiss you back, and we rip each other clothes off? All is forgiven as I lay in your fucking arms! That’s what you thought? Oh, fuck. Dylan. You’re fucking clueless. You don’t even understand, do you?”

I choke on a lump.

“You ignored me. You made me think I was a plaything. A toy. A hand me down. You watched as Paula called me a bitch, then days later you screw her, and now you’re shoving your tongue down my throat? Who the fuck does that!? What the hell is wrong with you!?”

I scream, throwing my hands in the air. He stands there without replying, watching me wordlessly.

I choke a second time. Most definitely on a tear. It’s a good thing it’s raining because I cannot bear Dylan seeing me this way.

“You will turn around and walk away. You won’t utter a word to me. Not now. Not ever. You will walk away from me. You will forget everything just like I will and then both of us will return to our former lives because I assure you, I will never give you the chance to hurt me again.”

I declare full of spite. He glances, then his eyes zone in on mine. I’m struggling to breathe. My chest is clogged.

“Goodbye Camilla.”

He mumbles, turns around then walks away. When he’s out of sight, I take a few steps backwards until I hit the door.

I’m completely soaked. My entire body is shaking. I don’t think the cold is taking all the blame for that one. Hot tears are trickling down my face.

I suck in then release another breath.

Slowly, I walk towards the stairs, careful not to slip and hit my head. *Again, which I wouldn’t mind at all.*

*TWO MONTHS LATER.*

KINGSTON HIGH.

The entire stadium is filled with cheers as students march forward to collect their diplomas. Miranda bagged hers, smiling widely as her mother took a picture with her.

I’m smiling as well, although mine isn’t genuine or from the heart.

Mother and Father are here. They took a picture with me while I got mine. I can’t wait for this stunt to be over, so I can go back home and get to packing. I still have about eight months before the first semester starts, but you can’t be too early, right?

That’s right. It’s graduation. We’re finally done with high school. Cool right?

Now we are off to college to *find ourselves,* I decided to major in psychology. Humans are funny. Getting to understand how they think and helping them will be fun. I think. Miranda is majoring in drama because heaven knows she’s a natural actress. We got into the same University, roommates even. Cool right? The University of California.

My hands are still clapping from the names being called, but they halt at the announcer’s next words.

“Dylan Emerton.”

His words ring at the back of my head, my hands are caught in the air, my face looking forward. The entire audience is waiting.

*He didn’t come?*

Then I hear slow steps towards the podium.

*Look away.*

My subconscious commands. I don’t. My gaze is plastered on him. He’s wearing a black suit underneath the gown. His face is void while grabbing the tiny object from the principal, who’s smiling widely. A flash of light is caused by the camera taking a picture. He looks different. He’s not smirking. Likewise, he’s not doing anything. He takes a picture with his parents and that’s it. A final handshake with a few teachers, then his head turns.

I’m sure he’s staring at me now. We’re staring at each other. A first after two months. We haven’t seen eye to eye in two months. This doesn’t last either.

I turn away and face something else, the burn in my chest reminding me exactly why Dylan Emerton and I will never have anything to see or talk about. After that night, we went our separate ways. I urged Miranda to forget about the entire issue, I just wanted to get through high school and move on.

I ditched the classes we had together, I moved in and out of school and although our paths crossed less than ten times, we never uttered a word to each other and that’s the way it’s going to remain. He’s in my past. As he should be.

*Author’s Note*

*Is he though?? In case you’re wondering, this is the end of part one! Goosebumps!!!! The next part is going to be mind-blowing. Honestly can’t wait to write it. Oh! Lest I forget, please drop your comments. I’m eager to read them!.*