Living With The Player

**CAMILLA RENÉE**

MONDAY.

He said what we were doing. Exact words. We were in the pool, he had his hands on each side of my head, caging me, leaning in, his lips were pursed, I think he wanted a kiss. I can never predict Dylan, he makes it his life goal not to allow anyone to do that.

But we are alone now, so what else could he need?

Ugh!

Either way, I’ll find out in a minute.

Snapping out of my thought, I lift one hand, reaching for a strand of my hair, I snap out of those flimsy thoughts staring wordlessly at him.

“So Camilla.”

There it is. He’s playing at me. He wants me to make this first move, he’ll just push me hard enough to do something, what if he doesn’t want anything but me making a complete fool out of myself.

Of course. I harden my face, creasing my brows.

“Stop goofing around, I think I liked it better when you were annoyed, just put on a shirt and pants. Not these shorts. Maybe we can run through one topic or two.”

Unconsciously, it tugs loosely at one strand, a nervous chuckle slipping away from my lips.

“Why? I bet anything you’ve been enjoying the view since you walked in. Why would you want me to cover-up? Or are we both going to deny you like what you see?”

His confident observation was accompanied by his usual smirk than a sly grin.

He’s not wrong. Doesn’t need to know that though.

I’m enjoying his glistening abs or gaze piercing biceps, I just need the heat off me. It doesn’t seem to be working though.

I move backwards, rolling my eyes me a wink followed by a sly grin to which I roll my eyes.

“Not everything is a joke. Put on a shirt. What if your parents walk in on us.”

“The door is locked.”

He stretched one hand, pointing towards the door.

Obviously.

“It’s shut not locked and that makes it worse. They walk in and you’re this way, just both of us. It doesn’t look good.”

“You’re worried they’ll think we were fucking?”

He narrowed his gaze, amusement etched along the lines of his face, I choked on something, my breath hitching for a second.

He says things so raw, damming the consequences. It’s invariably hot but also very annoying.

“That’s it? You wouldn’t the first.”

A gasp escaped through my lips, I glared hard. What’s that supposed to mean? I’m just one of his conquests? Wow.

“Ass-hole.”

I pronounced, stressing my vocals.

“Scary cat.”

He retorted. I snorted and moved away completely.

Thank goodness that phase is over.

Chuckling lightly, he strides towards the closet hopefully in search of a shirt.

I crossed my arms harshly, maybe I can go now. My work is done. He isn’t being grumpy anymore.

Scanning my eyes around the room, I scrunch my nose at how annoyingly dirty he is. Clothes scatter all over the bed, at the corner, even on the bed.

Annoying.

I shake my head. The room is pretty classic.

A few soccer posters hung over the wall. Nothing eye-catching. Just players. Popular players. A bed in the middle, a closet, a little desk at the corner. That’s pretty much it.

Hol’ up.

Just then, something caught my eyes on his desk.

Is that?

No. It can’t. But it is. At least it’s very similar. Wait.

I swallowed hard. The possibilities swirling in my head quickly.

It could be. Peaking at Dylan, he was invested in his closet, searching for a short while they were scattered all over his room.

That gives me an opportunity.

Taking a final peak, I slide through the bed and reach the desk.

I might have made a misinterpretation since I gazed from afar.

Doesn’t hurt to confirm.

I lowered my head, tuck my hair behind my ears and pick it up.

Oh my God. I wasn’t being paranoid. It’s the same thing.

Recognition flashes through my eyes.

Inside a tiny case was one of my earrings.

Just one ear. The left ear.

A tiny chuckle slips out.

It’s the same.

It’s identical.

I had the right ear.

I kept it with me as did he, it was in the house, now it’s burnt down as the rest of my things.

If the fire didn’t escalate, I would have grabbed the earring as well.

There just wasn’t enough time. My adrenaline kicked off, the only thing on my mind was getting out, so I couldn’t grab it that night, I had one chance. One thing to grab.

I choose the hoodie because it meant more to me.

I don’t regret it.

I smiled remembering how he got a hold of the left ear.

It was the same way I got his hoodie which is still tucked away under my pillow. Right in this very house.

It’s kind of funny. We each have a personal item from the other.

Carefully, I placed the earring back in its box, stepping away as the memories of the last two years came through.

TWO YEARS AGO.

FRIDAY NIGHT.

I’ve done stupid things, but coming to this party as a slut. Well, it’s charting on that list.

The girls here did worse, but considering how I usually dress, this is slutty to me.

My dress was above my knee, handless even, let’s not even talk about my face.

Why did I enter my parents’ room?

I don’t use more than powder and foundation sometimes, but tonight I decided to touch my mom’s make-up kit and it did not end well.

My make-up was a little too much for a high school party. I went bold with the red lipsticks, eyebrows drew not nearly perfect, but better than most.

It all screamed a bad idea. Guess what? I did it nonetheless.

You can refer to this as one of the perks of “letting loose”

That’s the goal.

I chunked a whole glass of tequila, sliding it to the other end of the table requesting for more, my butt squishing against the tiny bar stool.

I look around the party, everyone’s dancing.

I might join after another glass.

I’ve only had alcohol twice. Both wine. Both regretted. Now I’m drinking tequila, it’s bitter, there’s this burn in my throat when I gulp it down, I still drink it.

The more I gulp, the lesser the centre of my chest hurts.

About turning away, that’s when Dylan Emerton walked in.

Wow.

That’s the only thing I could think of.

Tonight he didn’t go for a leather jacket or anything black, he wore a grey hoodie and grey pants, but in the night, it looked black.

He still looks breathtaking.

The girls stopping what they were doing and turning was enough indication.

I smirked watching him closely, zoning on him as he strode in properly.

Soon enough, the girls and guys crowded him. I averted my eyes going back to chunking tequila.

You’re wondering Why was I drinking?NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

It’s petty and childish but I’ll tell you.

My Mother and Father were becoming extremely annoying with their regular trips, I’m an only child, you’d think I would not have to share care and affection with anyone.

You’d think wrong. In recent times, I have to beg for it, they only care about working and travelling leaving their seventeen-year-old daughter in a big old house, so tonight I decided to do something I would not usually do.

Go to a high school party. I dressed like this and did it. I’m letting loose. It hurt though. Their rejection of me hurt.

I shoved it off thinking I would be used to it by now but I wasn’t so I continued drinking.

“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be drinking alone.”

I tucked my hair behind my ear and glanced in the direction where the sound came from. I stared at him carefully trying to recall if I knew him. No, it wasn’t Dylan.

“I don’t go to your school if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He chuckles lightly.

“Come on, have a drink with me.”

He gets us another drink and that was the start of that epic night.

Not too long ago, we talk and laugh lightly.

It’s all good until I felt myself getting a little tipsy. The ground was shaking, the people weren’t standing anymore, they were spinning badly.

Time to go home then?

Before I could move away or stand up, his hands were on my bareback.

Right, I forgot the back of the dress wasn’t properly covered as well.

Slut.

I bit back my tongue, refusing to insult myself anymore.

I stirred on the stool, to show my discomfort, before I could protest, his lips were on mine. He had leaned in and claimed my lips as his.

“Brandon.” I trailed off trying to push him off softly, I was tipsy but not enough to make out with some stranger.

His name was Brandon. In between the light discussion, he had introduced himself as Brandon some guy who patted his back and called him Reed. I assumed that was his last name.

Brandon Reed.

I tried to close my mouth, both hands over his chest, struggling with a guy who wanted nothing but to have me. The feeling wasn’t mutual.

****

*Author’ Note*

*Yay! We have gotten an insight into her past. Apologies for not updating yesterday. I had some things to do. Drop your thoughts on what you think! Much Love.*