Living With The Player

CAMILLA RENÉE

THURSDAY.

“Dylan, what’s going on?”

I brace his left arm, heaving half of his body against me.

The stranger – Harper struggled to get up with zero help from either of us.

Once both of them settled on their feet, Dylan clenched his jaw and glared whilst Harper, twisted his neck and removed the dust from his shirt.

“What are you doing here?”

I prefer not to wince and get offended at how Dylan ignores me. He hasn’t glanced at me one time, he’s scowling at Harper while throwing many questions at his face. And there’s the first con.

I can’t phrase it as indecisiveness, his communication skills at some point? That’s not quite right either, I’d figure out a term for it later. For now, let’s focus on Dylan not committing murder which will be the case if Harper doesn’t tear that grin off his face.

“That’s not the first question you should ask an old friend D.”

D? They’re friends? And on a nickname basis?

“We aren’t friends Harper. Never was. Never will be.”

“I beg to differ man. I beg to differ.”

He levels his gaze, taunting silently. I know my grip on his shoulder will do nothing should Dylan decide to hit him again, but I grab on and stand behind him.

“You’ve been here for weeks? You’ve been following me. Why?”

“I wanted to say hello. It’s been a while don’t you think so? You cleaned up nicely. Even got yourself a good girl. Nicely done D.”

“Keep Camilla’s name out of your fucking mouth.”

“You wanted to rip me open thinking I was following her. Isn’t she that same girl that had you sulking for months?”

Dylan moves forward, I clench my fists and mumble a few words.

“She is. Looks like you got her back too. Your life’s all peachy now. Kinda makes you wonder how you treat the rest of us that had your back while you were down on the ground.”

My brows remain furrowed the entire time. What are they talking about?

“I made myself clear the last time Harper. I do not want a thing to do with you and your sick pack of friends.”

“Our friends.”

He corrects, giving off the first emotion since he showed up. Anger.

“You’ve got your girl back, moved to California to start school and suddenly you think you’re what? Santa’s son? Hell no. You can’t walk away D. Not from me”

“I did.”

Dylan grunts.

“Yet here I am”

“Well, you’re a coward. Lurking in the shadows this whole time doing what? Pathetic. Stay away from me. And her. Or I swear you’d come off with more than just bruises.”

I’m not the figure being threatened, but Dylan’s tone is icy to grow shivers and they rake through me.

“Let’s go.”

He’s referring to me yet gazing at Harper.

I release my grip on his arm and step away. Both of them stare each other off for five seconds before Dylan breaks off, turns towards me, his features softening, and then he snatches my hand.

That’s my cue to leave.

****

I’m in Dylan’s apartment. We agreed to have a session here at some point. That plan got sidetracked, but here I am.

It’s bleak. There’s a living room. Corner leading to a kitchen. A lobby which should lead to his room and some, but this entire house lacks a special touch. There are no pictures on the wall either.

Dylan was in half a minute ago yet my knees are scrambling with worry. He mutters something like wait, but that was ten minutes ago and I could’ve inferred it.

So I’m settling in his living room, awaiting his return and hopefully some replies.

“Camilla.”

That voice was unmistakably Dylan’s, originating from his bedroom as a cry, muffled by something.

I jumped off his couch, slipping a foot and almost tumbling over. But no – I regained my composure.

Did he want me to come? He called out to me so yes?

Before I could register and make the choice, my ringtone sounded in the entire living room.

I swirled my head and looked. Jimmy.

Something registered, however. My boyfriend and I hadn’t spoken throughout the day. No classes. No texts. Holy shit.

I’m just realising that now? How-

The phone was still ringing and making a lot of noise, to silence it, I yanked it off the couch and slid the answer key.

“Jimmy.”

I muster a voice. Pitchy. Too cherry.

“Are you okay?”

Caught in 4k. All at once. Jeez no. I’m not fucking anyone, but I am in Dylan’s apartment. Dylan – he called me.

I switched the hand holding up my cell phone which had gathered enough sweat in seconds.

“Yes. I’m good.”

“I haven’t seen you all day. I checked out the faculty and you weren’t there either. Miranda said you went out and quote, “will kill you for abandoning her the entire day” I got worried.”

Definitely caught there. Fuck. The first rule: don’t lie. But how do I tell the entire truth here?

“Camilla.”

This time there’s no error. Dylan is calling out to me. He’s growling more or less.

My chest is constricting.

“Yes. Um, I was out well for most of the day. I had to help with a project which was today, so I went over there.”

“Not in the faculty of science?”

Another low guttural sound from the hallway. I wince.

“No Jimmy. Arts.”

“Oh.”

“I had to help Dylan.”

I elucidated.

“Alright, that’s fine. You’re done right?”

Jimmy didn’t sound worried as before. He sounded like Dylan. They sounded like each other when one mentions the other’s name.

“Y-Yes… I… Am.”

I hear cursing. Oh, my God.

“But you aren’t home yet? You’re still out?”

“Yes. I ran into someone who I didn’t know…”

What? I smack my forehead.

“Huh?”

“I mean Dylan ran into someone who he thought was following us.”

“You were with Dylan?”

Holy shit. It’s getting worse.

“Yes. We left the faculty together after the presentation”

“Alright. Then where are you now?”

“Camilla.”

The call was firm the third, but there’s a tiny layer of raw need at the end.

“And you said someone was following both of you? Are you hurt?”

My chest twists harder. He still cares. All Jimmy does is care about me.

“No, I wasn’t. Turns out he was following Dylan. I think they’re friends, maybe. I…”

“Camilla!”

My heart skips one beat and I rev.

“Jimmy?”

I squeezed my lids knowing the chances of me lamenting my next words are off the roof. Yet here I am deciding to utter them.

“Yes? What-”

“I have to go now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I utter dejectedly.

“What? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

I tighten my lids, fasten them and don’t blink because this hurts. My chest is about to burst through. I catch a breath in my throat, I can’t even get that out. So I sigh.

“I’ll call you tomorrow Jimmy. I am sorry.”

And like the coward I know deep down I am, I tossed the cell phone over the couch – without hanging out, only then I’m finally able to breathe and sprint across the living room, down to the lobby where there are two rooms but only one is unlocked.

I’ll make an excellent track star is what I realise with the speed I got here.

I halt and exhale, facing the unlocked door.

There’s a window directly facing my view and the shadow of a bed not fully materialised since I’m not in here.

“Camilla.”

I flutter my eyes at the sound coming from inside. What will I meet should I take two more steps?

“Choose.”

A voice commands at the back of my head. Is that what I’ve done unconsciously?

Refusing to hang up on Jimmy but putting him down still, rushing over to Dylan with no clue of what he was doing. Here I am. By his door. I swallow what’s left of my throat and glide in. My only vindication is that he needs me. I know he does.

So when I pace into the room and find Dylan seated beside the bed, both legs propped so he could place his hands over his knees, his eyes screwed shut, his hair ruffled with so many fingers, so the gel is useless and unable to hold his hair from falling and concealing a few lines of his face. He releases a shaky breath and parts his lips.

“Camilla.”

He exhales and I’m dropping to my knees and crawling over to him, taking a spot right next to him, matching his movements.

Head pressed against the floorboard. Knees propped. The hair is the only exception.

“I thought you left. I think I implored you to stay, but I surely thought you left.”

I glimpse his eyes and still closed them. It’s like he thinks this might be an illusion.

Then he cracks a laugh. It’s not humorous, it’s almost like a release of breath through his mouth.

Wordless, I pull a hand from his knee, encircling my fingers around them, squeezing fiercely.

“Cam?”

“Mmmm.”

I mumble, closing my eyes as well.

“I truly want to restrain myself from kissing you, holding, touching, branding, as I have been throughout today. I want to respect your relationship and you. No respect for Jimmy, he can fuck himself. Maybe a little, barely an atom though.”

He chuckles while I listen, matching his breathing without responding.

“But it’s so hard. You don’t have the slightest clue how hard it is.”

I lock my lids, but at the rate the floorboard creaks, you know his shoulders are shaking. Maybe his full body.

“You’re wondering who Harper is. He’s a part of my past. Those bleak months after I hurt you. Harper is a part of them and I hoped never to return to it, but here we are. If you want to hear everything, I can-”

I press our fingers together, hushing his next words.

“You can tell me about it in the morning.”

I answer without looking or opening my eyes.

“No.”

He retorts. The board jerks again.

“I need to do something. You don’t understand. If I’m speaking to you about it, maybe I can get my mind to work. It’s the only thing that might serve. It’s the only thing I can think of at the moment, or else I might just-”

I sigh twice. In the living room, I mentioned doing something crazy. Scratch that, what I’m about to do moves the fine line.

“Kiss me.”

I tremble at my words. The firmness. Lack of restraint. No hint of doubt either.

Silence. For about twelve seconds he doesn’t answer or do anything in particular.

Then he shifts. Our entwined fingers are unlocked. His entire body wriggles away and I breathe refusing to open my eyes.

“Say it again. Please.”

I realise now that he has come upfront, murmuring words directly in front of me.

My chance to clamp my lips and swallow it all back. But no.

“Kiss me, Dylan.”

I arch my back against the floorboard. He just breathes.

“This is… I don’t want you to think I’m… Fuck. Camilla. I…”

I can hear and feel how close he is to me. How close he is to breaking. And I glide him to that limit. His breaking point.

“It seems you and I would have a lot to regret in the morning then.”

I blink my eyes and I’m met with a man filled with hunger. Raw undiluted desire. It’s maddening. It’s a mirror of my looks.

“I believe I instructed you to kiss me, so you really should-be-kissing, me.”

I drawled, releasing a breath only after the final word. Both his hands drop in defeat, his head follows and I contemplate taking it all back.

What a stupid decision that was. Urging him to kiss me.

I open my mouth to speak, his head beats me to the first motion and lifts. All words are gone since it’s glaring. He’s at that point. And all hell is about to break loose.

Dylan doesn’t waste another second before evaporating any space between us, palming my face and claiming my lips.

A low whimper slips past my lips, and he swallows it down, groaning in satisfaction. Perfectly, my butt is pressed against the floor and my knees are propped or else I might truly slide down considering how quickly my entire body fades out with Dylan.

“You’re so good at driving me insane. I don’t think I could go on like this Cam. I don’t want stolen kisses anymore, I want it all. I’m a selfish bastard who wants all of you.”

He parts my lips without an invitation, deepening the kiss with his god sculpted and perfect tongue.

I moan, driven by nothing but passion pulling me to tug at the strands of his hair.

I filled my fingers with as many as I could find. Then his hands went around my back and his hips began rocking my abdomen.

I don’t recognize the sound that escapes my lips at that swift and torturous motion.

“Dylan.”

He grunts and repeats the same thing, barely giving me two seconds to feel all of him before tugging away.

I take one hand away from his hair, gripping his shoulders and his lips leave mine, finding a spot and nestling between my jaw and neck.

“Bloody…”

“Maybe…”

“Dylan…”

“I Uh…”

Again what the fuck am I saying? This feels unreal. Too good. I don’t want it to stop. So when Dylan pulls back, tugs at my knees to the ground and picks me up – all in one breath, I don’t resist. I don’t complain either when my back is suddenly pressed against his twin bed and his lips find mine again.

****

I had to cut it because of the word count limit. And maybe because I like to play games. Loll Reviews? Let’s hear em.