Living With The Player

**CAMILLA RENÉE**

RICHMOND HIGH.

THURSDAY AFTERNOON.

Dylan stormed off before I could stop him, I trailed behind with my head lowered, my eyes brimming with additional tears.

Back into the school, both teams had huddled. For the vote I’m certain. Dylan strumbled into the locker room while I stayed back to watch.

I swivelled my head away as the results were announced. His actions had their consequences. Typically blood for blood.

It’s as though I was suspended from the game, my throat feels dry, my heart is ripped apart, I can’t explain why this hurts. It just does.

Then I saw him. Brandon and I peered at each other for barely ten seconds before I ducked my head away. He was shirtless and grinning, two girls on each of his sides, his hands wrapped around their waist, he whispered something to them causing their faces to turn red.

He won.

Just then, I spotted Dylan getting out of the locker room. He switched his shirt this time, his bag hung over his shoulder whereas I left mine on the bus.

I looked furiously at both sides. The bus where I could comfortably sit and wait to be driven back to school, or a sad and broken Dylan clouded by anger.

There’s only one option.

****

EMERTON’S MANSION.

“I’m fucking stupid!”

I yelp at the back of my throat, jerking backwards as Dylan’s hands are lifted in the air, aimed at the punching bag in his room.

You’re wondering how we got here?

After the announcement, Dylan stormed off and I followed, he took a cab without a word and I had to give directions to the driver who kept exchanging puzzled looks between the both of us.

I prayed hard for Dylan not to hit him with his judging looks.

Eventually, we reached Emerton’s Mansion.

Burst through the door. The living room was empty thank the heavens. Still not speaking, he stormed upstairs straight to his room.

Surprise isn’t enough to describe my emotions. I gently shut the door and press my back against it, keeping my sight on him. My legs are throbbing, fingers crossed and my brows furrowed watching him retrieve the punching bag from the closet. Here we are.

He tossed off his shirt to the corner, flexing his muscles and what’s worse; he wasn’t wearing any gloves. His knuckles are busted from the punches he threw earlier, but I’m highly mortified to even consider uttering one word.

I just stand and watch him punch that bag wishing it was Brandon.

A few minutes later, he parts his lips and utters that sentence.

It comes as a shock, shredding through my heart if he’s cursing himself. It’s that bad.

“I’m just a crazy, messed up, and idiotic fool. I’m so stupid!”

He halts, his breathing hastening while both hands are placed at each ear.

I gulped down my throat.

I’m perplexed. He’s hitting that thing with so much venom.

What if he hits me? *He Won’t*

My heart says to stay here with him, but I’m scarcely helping.

I’m not exactly sure how I can even.

Do I comfort him? Is that what he needs?

Soccer is everything to him and losing to Brandon will crush him.

He told me once it’s the only thing he’s best at.

And now, He lost it.

A big opportunity is gone like that. What do I do?

“D-Dylan…”

My voice came out as a stutter, I didn’t sound confident at all.

Nevertheless, he stopped immediately. His eyes flickered with shock.

Did he not know I’ve been here this entire time?

We took a cab together. How angry is he not to notice?

It passed through his lids then he blinked them away and turned.

“Go away, Camilla. I just want to be alone right now!”

He said with a straight face then goes back to punching.

I flinch once more but stay rooted to my spot. Words can hurt Dylan. Maybe that’s what he wants. Hurt me bad enough so I’ll go.

“Dylan…”

I call out firmly, removing my laced fingers and keeping them at my side.

“What is it?”

He asks coldly. His clipped tone causes me to cringe. He lands two punches quickly, groaning after the first then letting out the air from his mouth at the second

“Stop it, please.”

I plead, stepping forward.

“Everything! Fucking lost! Gone, Camilla! It’s all gone! Don’t you understand? My parents are going to have a field day once the coach tells them. Blake is going to be elated, once again he’s better than me.”

He thunders, breathing heavily.NôvelDrama.Org © content.

His eyes are red and I’m shuddering. Not out of fright. More like pity and sadness.

“I know…”

“No, you don’t!”

He screams back at me before I can continue.

“Your parents adore you. Your parents worship and love you. You haven’t felt unloved so you can’t possibly know anything! You don’t fucking know anything!”

He screams once more, a tear is on the verge of rolling out.

I scoff lightly. If only he knew exactly how well they *love me*

“Dylan, please. Just let me…”

“No Camilla. You need to leave, now.”

He says roughly, closing the distance between us, reaching for my arm, gripping tightly then pulling me towards the door.

“Dylan!”

I scream, mostly choked by my tears.

“I want to be alone Camilla. Go away.”

He’s stronger, I can’t resist his hold, he pushes me out of the room, let’s go and returns, slamming the door without another word.

I sucked in a harsh breath, taking my tears with it. No.

I wasn’t going to give up so damn easily. Taking a deep breath, I step forward and face his brown door.

“Let me in!”

I screamed, pounding the door as I did.

“Yeah, your parents would come up and ask what’s happening here so if you don’t want that, I suggest you let me in!”

I screech, hitting the door, hard, rough, and without pause.

Finally, I hear the knob click, he pulls the door harshly as well, I’m too close so I practically fall into the room.

Impulsively, he reaches out, gripping my arm as before then pulling me to my feet.

Kicking the door with his leg, he shuts it behind us and the air gets sucked away.

So close.

Our proximity.

So fucking close.

One hand is wrapped around mine, lifted slightly in the air while the other is carefree.

My head is tucked away and I take two full breaths to calm my nerves.

It doesn’t work. The second I take in his cologne, my brain is reset.

I’m thinking If I just took one step closer, tilt my head slightly, you know what comes next.

I’m feeling bold.

I take both legs one step forward, plop my weight upwards and meet his gaze.

His brown eyes are most distant. The urge to stroke his cheeks until they’re bright again.

His lips are crooked in a frown. I’d give anything to get his usual smirk.

Breathing out, I did the only thing that popped into my head.

I pressed my lips against his.

I knew he’d react. Maybe shove me away or kiss me back. Either one.

*Wrong*

He did the unexpected.

Without giving me the chance to gasp at how minty he managed to taste, his arm goes to wrap around my waist and our bodies are crushing against one another.

I did say I was feeling daring right?

I dipped my tongue in his earning a teasing groan from him. It jabbed me over the edge.

I got lifted off the ground. Not like I protested or had any complaints.

Both hands were around his arms and they popped out when he groaned while seating.

Fuck this boy is gorgeous.

He sat first then hoisted me onto his laps, his lips were latched to my neck and I brushed my hair, my lips parting in their own accord, moans slipping out every second.

His boner was aggressively pressing against my jeans, but I honestly didn’t mind at this point.

This kiss was different from the rest, no words said just raw need, craving, and passion.

I didn’t care if he was claiming me I just wanted to be close to him. As close as fucking possible. I needed him to know that I’m here. His words are turning upside down and what he needs to understand is that I’m still here.

He buried his lips at the crook of my neck, he let his tongue out, drawing circles and slowly marking his Territory. *Fucking good*

I shook, digging my nails into his back.

Moving them upwards into his hair, I held his head urging him not to stop.

I could swear I heard his chuckle, his hands were circled at the base of my waist, but they were slowly moving to the hem of my shirt, finding their way inside.

My eyes snapped open and I squirmed a little.

He froze and pulled away, both of us breathing down to catch our breaths.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away.”

He panted.

“No, it’s okay.”

I manage to blurt out, keeping his gaze.

Did I just permit him to touch me?

“It’s okay?”

He asked again, his brown eyes shimmering with an unreasonable expression.

*Oh no*

****

*Author’s Note*

*More updates coming. Xoxo. Drop the comments down below. PS: I know most of y’all are still angry.*