Living With The Player

**CAMILLA RENÉE**

FRIDAY.

CLOSING HOUR.

I got through the rest of the day with noisy teens who had issues with their lives as well, they’ll rather talk about the de-rails of mine than focus on theirs.

They were lurking at every corner.

I was the talk of the school. That’s understandable, if I wasn’t the object of discussion I’d be interested to know who the girl was. The one the school’s player is “running after” is The same girl who has the “privilege” to live under the same roof with him.

Adding an extra layer to an already juicy cake, her boyfriend gets into a fight with Dylan who does not fight back which is expected of a typical high school bad boy.

Now that I think of it, it’s quite the drama.

After lunch, everyone heard of the semi-epic fight between Kyle and Dylan, no one cared about that though, the highlight was that Dylan didn’t hit back when everywhere knew he could’ve easily beaten him to a pulp. That brought up theories. Everyone had theirs and cliques argued about who could be right or wrong.

Most people concluded it was because of me, they weren’t wrong per se, but that was too general.

They thought of something else. Probably Dylan was screwing me while Kyle and I were still together causing Kyle to get furious.

Yeah, that’s probably what they think. The very thought makes me cringe in disgust.

While others didn’t believe that was all to the story, they added that I was still lying to Kyle about Dylan and me, playing two boys at once.

None of them knew who I was, yet they talked as though they did.

Before the closing bell sounded, the entire school was in on it.

No one was exempted, even the guys had a say in this.

I hated this much attention, the minute I stepped out of class, people were staring and whispering like I couldn’t see them. I closed my locker a little harshly before moving towards the parking lot to wait for Dylan.

“You just don’t listen.”

A familiar voice said, I turned back to see the bitch who slapped me first then caused me to retaliate the next time.

Round three is it?

“Come again for another round.”NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

I chuckled feeling slightly bold, what’s the worse that could happen? A rumour?

I mumbled sarcastically.

She scoffed, her expression showing slight surprise by my attitude. The fact that I’m able to stand up against her Is alarming.

They have the impression that anyone could step over me and all I’ll do is watch.

“Stay away from Dylan Emerton.”

She warned. Her girls appeared. Three of them. Excluding Miranda.

Maybe Dylan was correct and there’s more to that story.

“Ok.”

I agreed, shrugging my shoulders.

“I’ll stay away from him…”

I trailed off teasingly.

I sighted him coming from afar. He’ll make this much better.

“But can you tell him to stay away from?”

I pouted, nudging my head in his direction.

Her eyes followed my movements, they darkened at the sight of Dylan coming towards me.

“She bothering you?”

He asked. I shook my head, grabbed my helmet and got on his bed. Just to rile her up, I held onto Dylan tighter than needed, he drove off. I didn’t miss the look of rage in her eyes.

I chuckled and Dylan joined me.

See? Even in this disaster of a day, I still find some joy. All because of Paula.

****

“I ended it.”

I stated as he pulled over.

“Okay…”

He stared at me.

That’s weird.

I gulped and nodded to get rid of the awkward air. Maybe he didn’t need to know that detail, it sure didn’t look like he cared.

We walked into the house. I walked ahead while he trailed behind me.

“We’ll leave by seven.”

He informed at the top of the stairs.

Just that. Nothing else afterwards.

“Okay…”

I copied his earlier remarks then walked to my room.

My simple routine every time I return from school, pull the doorknob, lay on my bed reliving the day in my head, after a few minutes, pull my weight up and get into the shower.

After a quick bath, I’ll return to bed then freestyle from there on out.

****

I went in search of my parents, that pending talk we had hasn’t been sorted out. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to catch them while they’re still around.

“Ma’am Camilla…”

The maid called out.

I turned back to see a middle-aged woman.

“No Camilla’s fine.”

I corrected, she offered a small smile before nodding her head.

“Your parents went out with Mr and Mrs Emerton.”

She announced, I twitched my lips and nodded. Of course, they did. Anyone else but me is who they’re around.

“They might be back late, dinner’s ready.”

I smiled in response to hide the hurt.

On the upside, I don’t need to go through the agony of having to inform them about the party.

I’ll tell them when they’re back, it’s not like they can ground me in a house that isn’t theirs.

“I’m going out with Dylan later. Could you tell my parents when they get back?”

I smirked imagining the look on their faces when they get the news.

Payback. If only I could get a picture, that should last longer.

“Alright.”

She quipped.

“Thank you…”

“Queen.”

She responded with her name.

“Thanks, Ma’am Queen.”

I beamed. With no further distractions, I returned to my room to get ready.

****

After hours of sorting and searching through the clothes I received from Mrs Emerton, this was hard without her fashion guidance.

I finally got a nice blue gown to wear. I added some pumps and a little make-up, following the tutorials from party night.

From my reflection in the mirror, I was good to go. In my books. High school girls tend to overdo things. A lot. Flimsy skirts, tiny shirts, the likes.

As I stared at the mirror, memories came flooding back.

Two years ago, I got ready this same way. I went a little overboard as they usually did, then I went to a party, I let loose, I drank more than I should, up until the point where I was wasted.

That night I experienced something life-changing.

Here I am once again, going to another party.

A week after the event, Kyle and I crossed paths.

A normal study group, that’s how we got acquainted.

The wounds were still fresh, but he assured me he’ll soothe them.

Somehow, He fought his way into my life and made me want to believe in love.

I let him in and accepted his love. I figured it’ll be the best way to get the hurt out of my heart.

Two years later, he showed me how wrong I was.

I was beginning to get cold feet about these party things. They aren’t for me.

“Ready?”

Dylan asked barging in, taking my mind off my doubt and focusing it on something else entirely.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him, not because he looked breathtaking.

He’s like that ninety per cent of the time.

My gaze was screwed on his body, his chest region for precision.

He was wearing that same shirt.

The exact one.

I’m not shitting myself. It’s the same shirt he wore two years ago.

“Camilla…”

He called out softly noticing my sudden discomfort.

****

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