Living With The Player

DYLAN EMERTON

TUESDAY.

“What are you doing here?”

She tensions, yanking away from my hold. Losing contact feels like blood being oozed away from my body.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“This is a library. You’re not the only one who reads Camilla.”

“You came here to read?”

She questions, sprouting disbelief.

“So hard to believe that I can.”

“Yes.”

She lashes out. I came here to read. Then I began watching her for at least half an hour.

“What did you tell Claire about me?”

Claire? A better question did Claire tell Camilla about me?

“What are you talking about?”

“Answering a question with another question could either be two things. You’re trying to see how bad the situation is by getting me to divulge more information or you’re genuinely stupid. In your case, I think it’s both.”

She crosses her arm underneath her chest; the book lingering out from one end.

“So vicious Cam. So very harsh.”

“Don’t call me that.”

She sparks. I take a step forward and she withdraws.

“Don’t call you what?”

I slide my head, mirroring a smirk across my face.

“Cam?”

I ask, cocking my head sideways.

“Y-Yes.”

She blinks continually, seizing a huge gulp.

“Does Claire know what happened between us?”

“Yes. I don’t keep secrets from her.”

-because we are also cousins. I refrain from that. From the way Camilla’s face scrunches, Claire may be on to something. I’m curious about how she’ll take it.

“A couple with no secrets. How cute.”

She coos sarcastically. Not good then.

“Did you tell Jimmy? Or I’m one of those off topics that sours the mood.”

“You give yourself way too much credit.”

“More like not enough.”

I roll my eyes and then add, “Deny it. I dare you. Tell it to my face that you can confidently talk about me with your boyfriend without jerking.”

I lick my bottom lip unconsciously, darting towards her until there’s no space left.

“I dare you, Cam.”

I replay, ducking my head low enough to reach her left ear. Her breathing seizes and there’s enough heat radiating off her skin to melt mine.

“I should get going. It’s late.”

She blurts, turning her head towards me.

Massive mistake.

“You haven’t answered all of my questions. Let’s start with number one. Anything else you want aside from the book?”

Her gaze levers from the book in her hand to my features, back to the book, and then it drops to the ground. “No.”

She replies. It sounds like a whimper or a low cry.

“Last chance.”

Twirling a few fingers, I stroke my way from her arm. She’s wearing a sleeveless shirt, so part of her skin is uncovered.

What I would give to fall to my knees and just kiss them. Maybe suck a little until I leave a mark.

My gaze meets hers and I might trip, but the look in her eyes tells me she’s thinking the same thing.

“Let’s play a game.”

I retract my hand, grinning widely.

“A game?”

“Yes. A game with Camilla. Two questions. You answer two questions of mine. I answer two questions of yours. Brutal honesty.”

“Why would I want to play that?”

“Because it’s the only way I’m letting you leave.”

I mark before she utters another word. She ogles me wordlessly for about half a minute. There’s an internal debate about whether to fight, revolt or just give in.

“Fine. Let’s get it over with then. What is it?”

The latter then.

“First question. Have you told your boyfriend what happened to us? Not just that night.”

“No, I haven’t. That’s my past. There’s no reason to bring it forth.”

I wince at her words. I’m in her past?

“Second question. Why are you with him?”

“You want to know why I’m dating Jimmy? Is it so hard to believe that I could just move on and be with someone else?”

Yes.

“No, it isn’t. I’m more or less curious.”

I go for the latter answer. Saying yes changes nothing.

“Jimmy has all the pros. No cons.”

“Isn’t having no con a con?”

I interrupt. Her eyes move to mine swiftly, inspecting my features. Her lips heave out and she looks like she wants to say something. Then she snips them and shakes her head instead.

“Jimmy is the exception to that rule. He does everything right. He’s nice to me. Caring even. What more could I want?”

“A guy that isn’t boring because that’s exactly what you just describe. Bo-ri-ng.”

I’m biting my lips hard not to laugh, but Camilla is gritting her teeth, scowling so badly that it’s impossible not to.

So I let go. I gobble down in laughter so much so that I’m on the brink of tears.

“Jimmy isn’t boring.”

She defends, her voice crammed with annoyance.

“Name one fun thing he’s done.”

I get out between laughs and then pause while waiting for an answer.

“Your questions are up. I’m not answering.”

That does it. I throw my head back and laugh even harder than before.

“Fuck you.”

She spits and then swivels away.

****

CAMILLA RENÉE

I don’t know why I dawdle and chatted with him. I should’ve run off the minute we got disengaged. He’s fucking infuriating.

I can’t tell what has me riled up more. The taunts about Jimmy who isn’t boring. His fucking annoying laughter or that my subconscious is searching in between the lines of his words and getting tingles every time he chuckles.

All of them. I fucking hate this, so I’m going to leave.

I turn, determined to walk out of the library, but what’s that phrase-the devil works hard but Dylan Emerton works harder. Yeah. That one.

It takes one pace to pull my arm, twist, and then press me over the bookshelf.

“Just one Cam.”

He hovers over my face, his breathing tickling the corner of my lips and then my nose. I don’t even bother shifting, I’m caged between his body and if I’m being honest, he’s mesmerising in this state.

“I. Dare. You.”

He spells out, taking a hand out to stroke my cheeks. I shudder and press my lids down on the other.

“I’ll give you one recent.”

I begin with, knowing I’ll come to either regret or bask in my next phrase.

“Recall Monday? When I saw you at Graham’s apartment.”

I don’t twitch my lips when my eyes meet his. He freezes as the recollection dawns.

“I was upstairs. I just came down, and you saw me. Jimmy. Graham. Jimmy was shirtless. Do you remember?”

I drawled, stroking his arm as he did mine barely two minutes ago.

“Camilla.”

“Yes?”

I batted my lashes, feigning nonchalance. Ignoring the edge of his tone.

“You wouldn’t fuck him. You didn’t fuck him. You wouldn’t dare fuck him.”

He declared, snaking his arm off mine. I glare harshly, then scoff.

“My turn. First question; What would you do if I did-you know… Fucking? Dared.”

“Camilla.”

That sounded like a warning. It screams shut up. Don’t utter another word, yet I kept gawking while he glowed at me effortlessly.

“You’re playing with me and it’s not funny. You wouldn’t.”

“Second question Dylan. What if I wasn’t playing with you? What would you do?”

“Don’t fucking kill me.”

He winced, pounding his hand against the shelf. I jerked and shut my eyes as well.

A few seconds expired and I could flutter them open. He drifted a few paces back, scanning me down to my toes, muttering words underneath his breath.

I strived to catch my breath, wondering if I took it too far with the taunting.

“Did you?”

He whispered so low that if it wasn’t just us two, I wouldn’t have picked it.

“No.”

I retort, and his entire body trembles. He exhales largely, biting repeatedly on his shorter lip.

“Dylan.”

“Why didn’t you? You’re right. He was shirtless. You were upstairs. Why didn’t you fuck him?”

I flinch at the rawness.

“Graham walked in.”

I momble.

“You stopped because Graham came back? What if he hadn’t come back? I mean, imagine both of you had the liberty of being alone. Would you fuck him?”

“Dylan.”

“Answer me.”

He seethes.

“Please.”

His tone plummets considerably. Is that a whimper?

“I guess we’ll never know Dylan. It didn’t happen.”

Dylan snorts, several emotions crossing his features at the same time. Anger. Sadness. Hurt. Rage. Annoyance.

“I should go. Thank you for the book, Dylan.”

“Cam?”

“Y-Yes.”

I stuttered, terrified of what he’ll say yes.

“The answer to both questions is simple. If he had touched you like that, I would make sure he wouldn’t be able to touch anything for a while and then I’ll remind you exactly what it’s like to be touched. Properly. I’m a hypocrite because I’m guilty of the same thing I just asked…”

He threads towards me again. “But.”

He half chuckles.

“I. Don’t. Care. Know why?”

“I’ve concluded that you and I are far from done. I’ve got a lot to fix. But this is just the beginning. Now you can go.”

He whispers, angling his head to skim his tongue over my exposed flesh. Just a spasm of it.

*****

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