Living With The Player

CAMILLA RENÉE

TUESDAY.

Over twelve hours have run by since Athena William’s title was spoken into my ears. I haven’t been able to form a mental picture ergo Dylan hadn’t given away physical features.

I may or may not have struggled not to search the web and then vacated the bed at three am to scribble a note to request more details on what she looked like. Okay fine. I did.

I also prepared notes on further questions. I need to know; What did she do? How does he feel used? How did they break up? Does he still have her contact? Why is he still in love with her? Among other many questions?

Then I scaled them in order of preference. All thirteen questions. Only then was I able to slumber. I placed my notebook between my fingers. If this is the surge I get from one patient, I can’t wait to have sessions with more of them.

“We have a meeting for the project today. Maybe you and I can have our session there afterwards.”

-Dylan

“Sure-”

My phone is being ripped out of my grip in the middle of reacting to Dylan’s text message.

“Miranda!”

I howled, lifting mine. She replicated my movements only backing off, so she was out of my space.

“Dylan? You’re talking to Dylan?”

She snickers more amused than annoyed at the secret I was keeping.

“You’re meeting him too? For sessions?”

I blush fiercely, planting both hands beside my waist.

“You’re in contact with Dylan? What happened to,” he’s in my past?” Hating him till wherever?”

I roll my eyes at her failed attempt to match my tone.

“I haven’t forgotten what happened between us. I’m with Jimmy now.”

“Maybe you should confess to yourself more often. This looks like you’ve forgotten.”

She shoves the cell in my face, dangling it directly beneath my eyes.

“I didn’t forget. I’m helping with a project because the other day when he came over, Jimmy was here as well. He bullied me into helping so he could leave.”

She gasps, pressing one hand and the phone over her lips.

Here we go.

“Camilla Cecelia Renée.”

“My middle name isn’t-”

“Oh, now you want to sass me? I will call you whatever I want. A boy who isn’t your boyfriend was in this room. Our room and I had no clue!”

She stomps her foot. I want to tell her at that time Jimmy wasn’t my boyfriend either, but I clasp my lips and wait for the rant.

“How long has this been going on? What else are you keeping from me?”

She narrows her gaze; I lick my dry lips and list out the things I hadn’t told her yet. In my, mind. They’re quite a lot.

“You’ll crack it, eventually. Why ruin the fun?”

Another gasp, but this time I smirk.

“And the sessions? What are those about?”

“Uhm…”

I trail off at a loss for words. It’s an uncomfortable subject. I can not tell Miranda.

“It’s sensitive, but it has nothing to do with relationships or our past. He’s seeking my help as a psychologist. In training.”

I bite my grin. Yes, I’m fucking proud.

“I see. It’s a delicate topic so you can’t tell anyone. He requires both of you to meet together? Alone. He can speak to you freely for long hours and you should do this for a while?”

“Y-Yes”

I stutter, swallowing hard. That’s the interpretation, but her tone feels like it isn’t, but she’s just saying it is.

Not sarcasm. But not “not” sarcasm. Sigh.

“Dylan would not lie about something like that.”

“I don’t doubt your judgement, Camilla. I just want you to stay certain of the things you do. You’re dating Jimmy. You tried to be happy with someone else. It wouldn’t be fair to him to keep you know…”

I tighten my fists. If only Miranda knew Dylan and I kissed on Sunday. Guilt earns its way and clouds my entire body. I’m an awful girlfriend.

“Just don’t get hurt again. I never want to see that Camilla again. This time I’ll break a few bones in Dylan’s body. And for Jimmy, try not to hurt him either. His only offence was loving you.”

My bottom lip keeps throbbing after the talk. The whole room feels crowded. I need to go.

“I should get going to class Miranda. Thank you..”

I lean forward, plucking my cell phone then pressing my closed lips against her cheeks

I’m out the door with the second sigh of the day. I should get my shit together. After the maths course.

****

Jimmy and I have been texting the entire day. No classes jointly mean restricted “face time’ and I miss him.

Corny jokes. His hair. His choice of outfits. I miss Jimmy.

I’m halfway through texting on a meet for dinner when Dylan answers.

“Ready?”

I click send for Jimmy and text Dylan back.

Another session.

****

Their project is coming together beautifully. I will see the presentation. I took part after all.

But something tenses between Dylan and me through the entire thing. Lingering thoughts until it’s over.

Graham isn’t here. Thankfully. I don’t need Jimmy more suspicious.

Once everyone clears out, Dylan pulls out two chairs opposite the other. He grabs a table for me and then takes a seat.

Again his hair hasn’t been touched, well not by a comb. His hand becomes the alternative. He’s run them through continually.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

The while T-shirt and grey pants he’s wearing are rumpled as well. I believe he may have taken a nap in them. He doesn’t look good.

“We should begin?”

His voice stays the same as yesterday. Unrevealing.

“Are you doing this to taunt me? So we could spend time together? This Athena thing?”

His eyes spark to mine. Dylan’s nose flared in annoyance. Miranda got into my head. I can’t work unless I know for sure this isn’t some sick game, but Dylan’s expressions are making me wish I could take back those sixteen words.

“You believe I’m lying to you? Making up this sick story about Athena Williams? An imaginary first girlfriend?”

I draw at his tone. He’s scowling but there’s hurt in those eyes. More hurt than anger.

“Dylan I-”

Fuck why did I allow Miranda to get into my head? He’s up before I finish my assertion.

I think he’ll walk away but he’s darting towards me, sticking his hands in the back pocket and retrieving his phone.

“Dylan…”

“No. I trained my mind. Soul. And body. I did nothing to pursue her, but you want proof of her existence? Fine. Here’s the company page.”

He unlocks the screen, swiftly moving to Instagram. Search which comprises nothing but criminology results. Emerton enterprises.

The account is verified. My eyes are keen on the screen. Dylan searches through the followers. Athena Williams.

There are only two results, but Dylan wastes not a second before tapping the first. The pressure on his arm lessons greatly and my guilts just keep adding up.

I made him go back to her. Her profile is professional. Bio comprising age, hobbies, and Snapchat handle.

Dylan’s finger is frozen, hovering over the profile picture

Two breaths. The trance breaks, and he diverts to one post. The last post. A picture of her.

I gasp. She’s stunning. Remarkably beautiful. I angle my head and Dylan’s eyes are shut.

“I. Do. Not. Want. To. See. Convinced?”

He seethes visible aware that I’m staring. At him.

“Y-Yes.”

He shuts the screen and dashes off to his seat. We can cross the first item of our scale. I have a mental picture.

She’s a brunette. Her hair isn’t too long, it barely reaches her shoulders, but her eyes. She has green eyes and perfect lips. If she didn’t get a nose job, the almighty must love her a lot. Perfection. Athena is perfection.

“May we continue?”

I look down at the notepad. The next question is direct as well.

“How did she use you?”

My voice comes off shallow. Petrified.

He laughs then pauses, looks at the ceiling and a sigh slips past his pursed lips. I’m torn between speaking – cancelling the question and watching him battle himself.

“Athena’s parents wanted to sign a deal with my father. My father’s company. He was having mixed feelings about the entire thing. I can’t tell if they put her up to it, or she wanted her parent’s favour, or it was merely a mind game to her. I’ve never fucking figured that aspect out.”

He halts abruptly, tightening his jaw and watching me grip my notepad. His shoulders are tensed whole resting over the chair. I don’t exhale until he does and one breath takes over my entire being.

“You know what’s funny Camilla? It’s the fact that eventually, I figured things out. I found out. But you know what I did-”

I cover my lip on the other and hold my head back from bobbing. It’s a rhetorical question.

“Nothing Darlin. I didn’t do a thing. I let her do as she pleases. I pushed aside my family’s future since my dad was sceptical of the whole thing. I knew she was using me and I let her. Not for revenge. Not for vengeance. I had no plan except to let her plan scale through. I loved her that much.”

Mental notes are falling into my mind. Was the deal a bad thing? Did it go through? Was Dylan’s father’s company harmed in any way?

So many questions. Then I glance forward and Dylan’s eyes are stark red. His lips are shaking and busted from the number of times he’s bitten them.

He’s still. Aside from his lips, every other part of him is completely still. His confession left him frozen. I’m still breathing. I thought for sure my lungs will get clogged.

Every ounce of control holds me back from clasping his hand and kissing it until there’s no sorrow left. But I don’t. I watch him. Utterly and completely broken.

I can only help if I’m aware of the entire thing. Comforting him will not do either of us any good.

****

I had so much to do the previous day and today. There might be a shift in the times I post. I’ll be using UTC+1 and I’ll be uploading before midnight (UTC+1) Apologies for any inconvenience.