Living With The Player

CAMILLA RENÉE.

THURSDAY.

This is pungent. The setting. The outfits. Even the words used are hot. I’m not speaking completely about Dylan-sure he’s standing out with that suit. Not the kind on Saturday-but an actual black suit vest, the hand-less jacket has come off his torso and hanging over a chair.

He’s not wearing a T-shirt, but a full-sleeved shirt. Tight. Sexy. So good. I can peak at the frames of his chest.

Aside from Dylan, the entire exhibition is heated. Sizzling.

Dylan spoke coherently, outgoing, with a little humour now and then. His role was to cite facts and evidence procured during the investigation. Seeing him say words like “Reconnaissance” does a lot to my lower parts.

Words have always been this huge turn on. There’s nothing sexier than a guy who’s able to express himself using words. A guy who’s not afraid to speak on exactly the things he feels.

“Perfection. Divine.”

I smile softly recurring his messages and the impact they had on me.

“Sincere Expression. Unintentionally Attractive.”

I momble in my head.

Oh, my. Did I just give him a pro?

“So what’d you think?”

Speak of the brown-eyed devil.

“It was perfect. You did expertly well.”

“Thank you, Darlin, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He swirls and began moving, nudging his head like a cue for me to follow.

I shove the pro and my mother’s words down a sinkhole. How did I unconsciously listen to her? The same way I thought of kissing Jimmy and Dylan invaded that daydream. The same shit happens now with this list.

It’s a terrific pro.

“Some pros carry more weight than others.”

Holy mother. I’m quoting my mother.

Jimmy says sexy words too. Again with the comparison? As though it’s a choice. As my mother pointed out.

“Cam?”

“Mother?”

I say half my thoughts by accident, jerking at his touch over my shoulder. He quirked his brows, wielding a laugh.

“Girls usually use the term daddy. But we can work with mother too? Maybe switch it up to mommy?”

“That’s terrible. Oh. My. God. That’s horrible. Don’t say that again. Don’t!”

I clasp my belly with both hands, hollowing in laughter.

“What? You’re not into the kink?”

“Moaning daddy in bed? Or mommy? God that’s weird-mommy. Who knows?”

I shrugged, dialling down to a few chuckles.

“You’ve been with a girl who called you daddy?”

I blurt as we flee from his lecture hall. He narrows his gaze, grinding silently on the inners of his lips.

Athena maybe? He must like it then.

“No Camilla, I have not. But it is fascinating and I wonder how it’ll sound if-”

He clips his lips swiftly; I wonder if he were biting down the next words.

“I don’t know. It could be quirky.”

“How would you know Camilla? You haven’t gotten laid in ages.”

“Hey!”

I exclaimed, jabbing an elbow at him.

“And you get laid every weekend correct?”

I Intended to match his tone, the opposite, however. I wanted to come off sarcastically. But no. That phrase almost seemed daring and the tiniest bit of – bitterness.

“Jealousy?”

Inner me supplied.

“Annoyed.”

I shook my head instead.

“No Cam, I don’t get laid every weekend.”

He replies smoothly. Not a hint of an edge in his tone. If he noticed my irritation, he hid it well.

“Twice a month then?”

“No.”

He breathed, and we’re out of the entire faculty.

“Once a month even?”

“No Camilla. Not even once a month.”

He tossed the jacket of the vest on, lowering his head to button up. I can ogle without getting caught because this man is just – ugh.

He finally stuck a comb through his hair, he threw the entire length backwards. It’s shinier, definitely gel.

“This entire year at the very least?”

I supply, crouching my head away once we did him buttoning. He strode first, and I countered his strides.

“Not even this year.”

He breathed, staring at the half-empty walk away. To be fair, it’s almost six pm, and the school is clearing out.

“How long has it been then?”

I fold my hands, halting immediately.

“Let’s see.”

Clicking his tongue, he gazed everywhere else repeating the same motion repeatedly.

“My calculation should be an estimate but; ten months, six days, two hours, and a few minutes.”

Paula. He hasn’t been with anyone since her. Since the two of us went our detached ways that night. How do I react to this information?

“That’s a long time. Pretty sure your dick is out of commission. I doubt it’ll be able to work properly ever again.”

Again, a page out of my boyfriend’s book is cringing.

Using Jimmy’s tactics on Dylan.

“Oh Darling, you’ll be surprised.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Wanna test your theory?”

His eyes rest on mine, taunting and daring all at the same time.

I shove all the comebacks I derived down my throat which is now dry.

“P-Pass.”

I quip tucking my hair away.

“How did your trip go? I didn’t expect you back this weekend at all.”

“Why is that so?”This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

I note he ignored my original question, but I’ll play along.

“Well, one day isn’t sufficient to catch up-”

“Catch up?”

He laughs cheerily; I blush.

“I didn’t travel all the way to catch up besides I had the presentation.”

“What if-”

“No, I would not have stayed back even if I didn’t have the presentation.”

He completes easily.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Are you speaking as Camilla my shrink or Camilla-”

“Your friend.”

I finish instead.

“We aren’t friends.”

He states hardly. Three words can lead shivers down my arm and straight to my thighs.

“Camilla your what then?”

I ask, pressing my feet to the ground to keep my weight steady.

“My shrink or just Camilla.”

“Both.”

“If you were my shrink, I’d say yes I got closure. She gave me the answers I wanted and I feel better than I have in years. Equipped to move on.”

“And the latter?”

“If this wasn’t a session, I’ll tell you my ties to her are disbanded. I’m going to work towards being the better man.”

Better? I gulp.

“I’d say my past dissuaded me from being able to love somebody as I should. My defence walls to hurt in fear of being hurt are non-existent.”

He strumbled through my side, continuing behind me, matching my pace so he hovered.

“I’d say there’s this girl that drives me mad with desire. Insane with need. So very wild. I lost her once. Unintentionally. Apologetically. Entirely my fault. I’d say I do not want to lose her for the second time. I’d say although she’s out of reach, it kills me to be close and hold back. Restrain. Limit. Endure. Pure torture.”

It’s the husky voice that gets me every day time.

Are we still walking? I hope not. My knees could give out any moment from now.

“Should I keep going?”

I nod twice, staring at the pointless tree with Dylan behind me.

“Expression. Pro number one for Dylan.”

Yes, I’m making the stupid list. Bloody hell does it take a lot of weight.

“Keep a straight face. Don’t ask like anything’s amiss.”

His rhythm switches from husky to scary. What?

“Don’t turn. Just keep walking.”

Huh?

“Someone is watching you.”

Again the water in my throat dries up. Is someone watching me? Again. Why would anyone be watching me?

“Calm. We can’t give off a hint.”

“Where is he or her?”

I barely recognise the sound of my voice.

“Two o’clock.”

I’ve watched enough movies to know where to look through the corner of my eye. It’s just bushes. I see nothing.

“Check for the reflective shadow. He’s hiding behind one of those bushes.”

I glimpse. And there it was as Dylan stated. A clear shadow of a person. It’s too fussy to tell if it belongs to a man or a woman.

Dylan and I move forward, each step my knees bunk further.

“What do you plan on doing?”

“Element of surprise. I’ll get to the person and we find out why he’s been following you. I told you weeks ago, you thought I made it up.”

“Not the time to rub it in.”

I hiss.

“Also, it may not be related to that Friday night.”

“Right. What are the odds of you having two stalkers?”

I sense the sarcasm, but I don’t answer. We’re so close and my anxiety is up to here.

“Haven’t you noticed anyone?”

“I have not.”

I answer truthfully and we’re getting nearer already.

I estimate ten breaths and seventeen seconds.

Dylan cancels it out. He takes just four breaths and less than eleven seconds to leap towards the bushes.

I’m transfixed on that spot counting the remaining six, then I rush to him and he’s knocking a guy over the ground, his hand tightened around his collar, bringing him to his chest then plummeting him again.

The weird thing is I’ve never seen this guy in my life before.

“Harper. Why are you following her? First Friday party, now in school. Why!?”

Dylan asks. Does Dylan know his name? Does Dylan know him?

The guy-harper keeps wheezing, barely able to get a word out.

I want to tell Dylan to get off the guy, not to put so much pressure on his throat, but I stand there once again engulfed by sheer curiosity.

“You… sick…”

Dylan grips harder before he spits more words out.

“Why are you following her?”

“I. Am… Not… I’m… Following… You.”

Dylan let’s go, jerking back, getting his sleeve stained, but staring-glaring at the stranger. The known stranger is named Harper.

****

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