Living With The Player

**DYLAN EMERTON**

NINE MONTHS EARLIER.

“We need to talk.”

I strike send and assess her. She picked up her cell and scanned through the text box. Her brows went up. Both of them. My heart flipped at the thought of getting a response, but then she slid it right back to the table as though I was nothing.

Maybe I am. My throat went dry, and I reached for more tequila.

Of course, she wouldn’t text back? I hurt her. I’ve been hurting her.

I’m such a fool.

“Hey Dylan, care for a dance?”

“Fuck off.”

I hissed, flipping my hand in her direction.

“A blow job maybe? I can make you feel real good. The best you’ve ever received.”

I cringed, scrunching my nose.

“I said fuck off.”

“We need to talk.”

I sent one more than the blonde sauntered off after my rejection.

Again, she read it through. Only this time, the tiniest flicker of surprise reached her eyes. Maybe it’s the alcohol getting to my brain. Making me see things I want.

Regardless, she shut her screen without answering back.

****

I slammed my balled fists on the table, extending my grip on the glass in my other hand until it reaches its limit, breaking into pieces.

A few of them reached the floor and others got stuck inside my arm.

Hissing in pain mixed with sheer annoyance, I bounced off the stool I was sitting on and walked away for a band-aid.

That’s when I froze.

The surrounding music stopped playing. It was just me and my heart threatening to burst out of its cage.

I thought tonight was sick and alcohol should help doze the pain of losing her, but hell no.

Camilla is right in front of me. We’ve established that. That’s not all. She’s with some guy. Who the fuck is he and where the fuck did he crawl out from? I’ll end him.

She has her shoulders draped around him. Her fucking laugh meant for me released into the air for him. What the fuck? I looked away for barely ten minutes.

She’s twirling her fingers around a glass, batting her lashes, and they’re too fucking close for my sanity. I bet he’s thinking of fucking her. No. A. Fucking. Chance.

I clench my fist and dig the pieces further into my hand.

It hurts. It fucking hurts. Just nothing compared to the pain in my chest.

I consider two things. Go up there and trash him. I can take him. He’s built. I’m stronger. Or two walk away, then take care of my wounds first.

I pick the latter since I can’t deal with any more drama or fuss. My head is about to fall off.

Camilla Renée can push me off a cliff and have me yearning to climb back up. Ribs broken. Hands and legs dislocated. Body ripped apart. Still, all I can think of is how to crawl back up. Back to her.

Turning my head away, I bump into more girls, girls who openly shove their bodies in my face and offer to have their tongues down my throat.

Disgusting pieces of shit.

I grunt and work my way through till the first restroom I can find.

Most of them moved away from me. That’s how much power I have.

The ones inside finished quickly and wandered off, leaving me inside the tiny room with a toilet and sink.

Angling my head to the sink, I turned on the faucet and let the water drown my hand.

Simultaneously, I reached out and pulled out the few pieces of glass stuck inside.

Each time I winced. Not at the pain from my hand. But the one in my head from squeezing my eyes and being able to see nothing but her.

I’m a fucking jerk. How I’ve been treating her for over a week is any sign, yet I want to curl my fists around his little neck and crush it against the wall for daring to glance in her direction.

Then I want to pull her into my arms. Let her stay there until my clothes reek of her perfume. Until all I can see, smell, hear, and sense is her.

Only her.

Fuck it.

I grovel while digging my phone out with my left hand, finding her number and putting it straight into the message app. I’m about to send the third message. I chicken out and shove it back in.

In all honesty, these past few days have been hell and back. I couldn’t finish and found the dumbest excuse to speak.

My mother mentioned the tutoring lessons earlier that day, it destabilised my morning.

I recall her torturous words-

“I miss having Camilla around. Maybe the tutoring lessons will give me a chance to see her again.”

Then she shut my door with a smile, unknowingly tarnishing my entire day.

I staggered to school with thoughts of her and her only. I had it up to here. Then during lunch, I just couldn’t bear it.

I went by her table and, and I asked to talk.

She looked stunning. Her hair was padded differently. I had half the mind to pull her in and yell the word fuck more times than needed.

Instead, I did the ass hole thing and pushed her away for good.

Those weren’t the only mistakes I made.

Paula. I hung out with her more times than required. Why? I figured it’ll keep Camilla away. And it did.

That day in class, when she walked up to her, her eyes shone with tears. I had to conceal my hand underneath the table so it wouldn’t crack under pressure.

I did many things just to keep my mind off her. Boxing more. Hitting things. People sometimes. Soccer. Everything. Yet the slightest object brings her back. It didn’t help that we went to the same school.

And now?

I’m stuck in a restroom, face down on the sink, clenching harder by the second and wishing I could turn back time to when it was just us.

Screaming monsters. Teaching her how to throw a punch. Having her underneath me. Take a glass of wine or two. The pool. Getting caught sneaking out. Her hands were around my chest on the way to school and back. The fun times.

I want those. Simple. Tender. Yet so fucking delightful.

And I screwed it all.

I smashed the edge of the sink and yelled out.

Calming my breath was of no use. She’s with that fucker out there. Another image branded on my mind. I won’t fucking sleep tonight with more visions coming in. I’ll torture myself with thoughts of both of them.

I squeezed my eyes, shaking my head vigorously.

Make it stop. Just make it stop. This is fucking hell.

Then again, why am I putting myself through it?

It’ll be easier to walk up to her instead of texting. Get her away from him to talk. Tell her the truth.

“I’m falling for her and it’s scaring me.”

I wince one more time.

There’s the reason. The coward I always knew I was.

Stay away from her and tell me it’s better this way.

If she’s not with me, she can’t hurt me.

Because love only causes pain and hurt. That’s why I fuck. No strings attached. Just sex. Yet Camilla and I haven’t crossed that threshold, and I still fell for it. Fell for her.

Kisses. Smell. Giggle. Hair.

Every part of her I got was intoxicating. I craved more. I couldn’t stop wanting. Scratch that, she became a need.

I had her. Literally. Same roof. Bedrooms apart and all that shit.

I didn’t realise the faucet was still on, but I used that opportunity to get some water in my face.

Then she left. Moved rather.

All my insecurities I buried ran back up to the surface. I remembered Athena.

I compared Athena and Camilla until I had concluded that what happened with the former would reoccur.

That this was just history’s nasty way of repeating itself after all *those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.*

So I tried to learn. I withdrew myself. Like a bastard. A coward. An asshole.

All those and many more. I treated her like shit. The last few days in the Emerton mansion were dirt for her. All because of me.

Every night I’ll remind myself it was for the best.

History can’t repeat itself. I won’t recover for the second time.

Yet every night, a piece of my soul has ripped apart at the thought of never being able to hold her anymore.

I made my decision. I should live by it, right? Wrong.

Again I try telling myself after graduation things will get better. I’ll move away to New York. She won’t be in my sights. Just a few more months. If only I can go without breaking before then.

That’s debatable.

I move away from the sink after turning the water off, exhaling deeply, then strolling out of the restroom into the halls.

I should leave. I meant this party to get her off my head, yet if I go downstairs back to that stool, chances are not one or two students will head home with broken ribs.

Home it is.

“Dylan?”

A familiar voice chuckles and I catch her blonde hair making its way to me.

Turn around and walk.

The voice in my head is clear. It’s a command even. We both know nothing good ever came out of Paula and me meeting up. Not now when I’m this close to breaking.

Yet I add a list to the asshole-y things I’ve done and stay right on that spot. I let her make her way to me.

She doesn’t waste a second, is pulling herself up, planting a kiss on my cheeks.

Paula has tried to make a movie with Camilla out of the “picture” so far, nothing has happened.

Hugs. Pecks. Flirting. Openly nudging her boobs in my face. But nothing.

“Are you okay? Your hand looks awful?”

She cooed, stroking my affected hand.

“Yeah. I am.”

I answered groggily.

Now is the time to go home?

“It’s a party, yet you don’t seem like you’re having any fun. Tell you what. Why don’t I make your entire night so much better?”

Her feet are back up since she pressed her lips to my ears.

I stumble away and clear my throat. Bad idea.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Hold. I’ll be back.”

I hand over my phone and go back inside, sprinkling more water on my face to get a hold of myself.

I can’t blame alcohol because I’m only tipsy, nowhere near drunk. So no.

****

Paula has been going on about something for a while now. I barely give a hoot until she says-

“I promise you. You won’t remember her while you’re with me.” And she’s back in my space.

Usually, I’ll strangle her for making that statement at all, but in this state, I’m wrecked.

My mind is in all places. It worked for Athena. I started screwing after her and I guess she left my mind eventually.

I have fucked no one for a while. This might be what I need.

Don’t do it. The voice in my head is alarmed. Warning. Screaming.

But do I listen? Hell no.

I throw caution out the door and march up to her, fisting her hair in my hand, drawing her towards my skin and pressing my lips against hers.

It’s no different from last time-yes, I’ve kissed and had sex with Paula before.

Mine covers hers quickly. Since there’s no resistance, I push my tongue in and she moans.

“There’s an empty room.”

She breathes. I pull away and yank my hair.

Last chance to walk away from this. The voice in my head sounds like it’s given up. As it should.

I haul Paula towards the room and if I hadn’t known better, I’d say she organised this.

Too bad I don’t give a shit.

I slam the door with her back against it, plunging to my knees with my head inclined directly against her pants.

“Dylan.”

She whispers. I jerk my head because it only reminds me of her.

“Quiet.”

I order and work my way through her jeans, slipping them off. She’s wearing nothing but a thong underneath, which disappears less than three seconds later. I kiss my way up to her core.

Her pussy is bare to me. Freshly shave. I press my lips against her opening, parting her slit with my tongue before licking my way right to her clit.

She reverts, clamping down on my head to keep me steady.

Growling, I press my tongue against her folds, gently nibbling her clit with my upper teeth.

She moans loudly, and I pull away, prickling with guilt.

“I said quietly.”

I demand, then stand up. Enough of the fucking foreplay. Camilla is still in my head.

“Come.”

I pluck her hand, motioning towards the bed. If I’m lucky, there’s a stack of condoms in one of these drawers.

Pulling off my shirt and pants, I meet her halfway and stand at the end of the bed, ripping the foil packet so I can roll the condom on.

Paula has a smug smile on display and when I close my eyes, it replaced her face by Camilla’s.

That’s enough. I yank her legs towards me, balancing them on each side of my shoulders, and in one swift motion, I bury my length inside of her.

There’s nothing slow or sweet about it. All I crave is numbness. Feeling nothing. Especially her.

I thrust roughly and hastily. Determined to clear my head. Paula is writhing underneath me, but I’m not concerned with the likes of her. I let one leg down, turning her to the side, then plummeting once more. She pushes another object to the ground, which sounds across the room. Again, I don’t care.

Then I hear another noise. One minute I’m this close to Cumming with the face of Camilla still in my mind, the next I sight her with the corner of my eyes. Camilla?

I blink thrice, and she’s still there. She’s glaring at both of us. And her eyes. Bloody hell.

“Fuck!”

I pull out at the same time as she slams the door. There’s another image branded in my head. Her eyes when she saw the two of us.

“Dylan?”

I grab my pants and tug them off, same with my shirt, then rush out of the room.

You’ve outdone yourself this time.

I wave the voice off, but we both know it’s right. A part of me can tell – this was the last straw. I may have lost Camilla. For good this time.

****

It’s a longer chapter since I couldn’t upload it yesterday. Who’s Athena btw?