Living With The Player

**CAMILLA**

In some way, I fought to find the hidden meanings behind those words. It was Dylan, it couldn’t have been that plain, there’s something tucked away, I just can’t see it yet.

He wants me to accompany him to this event. That almost makes it seem like…

Was Dylan Emerton asking me out on a date or something? That can’t be possible. I’m in over my head, but then again bringing someone to an event signifies asking the person out on a date, he also said it’ll be less boring if I’m around.

Could I be overthinking it?

There’s the other option. He’s said this before and I believe him at this point.

Seeing as his parents are trying to make me feel comfortable and at ease, they might have put him up to this, Dylan can’t say no to them. Apart from the “parent” title, they can cut him off from everything he needs to keep up the bad boy lifestyle, his credit cards will be shut down, no clothes, no flaunting money around, and no girl. Something he needs to breathe.C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.

If that’s the case, he knows I wouldn’t agree if I feel it’s forced on his part, that explains why he’ll keep it a secret

In that case, I shouldn’t get overly excited about something which might turn out to be false.

But am I excited? If I was, why would I be anyway? It’s just a forced date with lies coated in it to convince me to tag along.

He’s well aware of what he’s doing. Besides, I’m keeping away from him till further notice so a date is a big no.

Sadly I owe him one for fixing a problem he caused, everything is so fucked up and I’m confused.

I have so many questions, some of which I can’t answer but can’t help ponder on, all this while I stare at Dylan. He was waiting for a response from me. And here I was deep in thoughts weighing the hidden words behind his statement and the consequences of any response I give.

Saying yes is at my possible detriment, declining might backfire since he’ll bring up my debt.

He didn’t seem to be phased by my trance, the face he made seemed used to stuff like this.

How many girls does he make speechless every day? Wait. Where is that coming from?

I cleared my throat. He does these things. I hate them yet can’t seem to control myself.

Okay, Camilla. Breathe. Just breathe.

I paused for a few seconds more before offering him my answer; no answer, a diversion mostly.

“I’ll think about it”

I wiped the silly smirk plastered on his face. What? I truly didn’t know what to say.

Yes or no?

Once I get back to his place, I’ll take a long bath then decide, great ideas always pop up in the shower.

Next, I grabbed the spare helmet and mounted it on his bike. We weren’t moving after nearly a minute. I parted my lips to protest but he beat me to it.

“The party is tonight.”

He said with a deep sigh. Did I hear correctly? That’s not good.

“Cool.”

I chirped trying to sound uninterested.

I wasn’t about to let him know that the thought of going to a party as his date was making me English.

But why? Images began to flash in my head. Images I struggled to keep at bay, but being this close keeps cracking those walls.

It isn’t good. I can’t keep recalling things like this.

His smile that night, his touch under the night, his groans of pleasure, and how handsome he looked. I recalled everything. Every little detail. It was implanted in my brain, even if I tried I couldn’t shake it off.

That was me.

But he forgot. He didn’t remember a single thing. It meant nothing to him, but for me, it was the best night of my life.

I thought I could do this, but as it seems, I can’t look him in the eyes without having those memories, flashes at the very least.

That feeling isn’t shared.

A party caused this. I’m attending another one. Another one with him.

I exhaled without responding. He copied my movements and got on the bike.

Turning the keys, he started the engine and drove off.

****