Living With The Player

**CAMILLA RENÉE**

TUESDAY EVENING

ST JOHN’S HOSPITAL.

I gawked at him, his head cocked over, a cute smile tugging at all corners of his lips.

I know what he’s referring to. At least the grimace and glare are off his face.

I can’t deal with that side of him again. Ever.

“Your hoodie Mr Emerton is under my pillow, safe and sound. I’ve taken good care of it.”

That’s not a total lie although I hardly take it through the laundry, I don’t wear it outdoors, so it’s not always dirty. It’s majorly because of his cologne, it’s barely on it anymore, but still.

“You kept it?”

He ponders taking me out of my poor laundry choices.

The amusement in his tone had me surprised.

He thought I’d throw it in a dumpster or what? I ran into a burning house for it, safe to say I don’t plan on letting it go anytime soon.

“I did.”

I answered confidentially despite the tiny blush creeping up my cheeks at his intense gaze.

“It helped me through some rough night when I had nightmares and all.”

I continued, shifting uncomfortably at that confession.

“Right.”

His brows dropped, the dark eyes had returned, but not because of me.

“Remind me again why didn’t you report that Bastard. I can understand why you didn’t approach me, but he shouldn’t get to just go away with it.”

“For what?”

I sputtered, chuckling in between two words.

“We were both drunk, I wouldn’t be taken seriously. I’m a minor, my parents would get involved and that’s a whole pile of drama I don’t care for.”

His gaze softened, resting solely on mine. I didn’t need pity though. I turned away.

When I returned, it went dark again. Dylan struggled to lift himself, I plopped up from the chair to reach the edge of the bed.

“He’s back. it’s cracking me up because the bastard had the nerves to come back. He’ll get what’s coming to him, wait until I get up from this bed.”

I leapt forward, placing my knee on the bed.

“You won’t do anything Dylan.”

I tugged hard at the sheets, bending my back so I could glare fully

“You’re not the boss of me, seems like the beating I gave him that night, he wants more. Who am I not to give it to him?”

He smirks afterwards following his Dylan shrug.

Dylan clicks his lips afterwards making me giggle.

“You’re still giving me my hoodie though.”

I arched my back, almost squatting on the bed.

“Yeah… Good luck with that.”

I chuckled, taking my hair backwards.

“A lot of things are going to change now that I know the truth. You’re aware of that right?”

He narrowed his gaze, dropping both brows at me.

“I’m not.”

I drawled, gulping down my throat.

“I can’t exactly yell, so why don’t you come over here, I’ll tell you.”

I arched a brow suspiciously, he followed my movements as I got down, taking the corner to the side of his bedExclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Closer…”

He beckons. I roll my eyes slightly then take a few more steps forward.

I was at the edge of his bed. One swing of my leg and I’d be touching the floorboards.

“Closer Camilla.”

He whisper-pleads. What’s he planning? I take one step forward.

“Closer…”

The word rolls off his tongue igniting a fire inside of me.

I breathe down and it’s hot in here.

“I don’t bite, it’s just a secret which I don’t want anyone to hear it. Closer.”

He adds, his voice dialling then a lot, it even sounds a little husky or maybe it’s just me.

I tuck my hair behind my ear, slowly and cautiously, I bend over the bed so I hover over him.

His brown eyes are directed straight into me, gazing at me with an unread expression.

He tilts his head slightly and my eyes brimmed with confusion.

I’m about to stand straight probably hiss or something, that’s when he cuts me off.

“Perfect.”

He whispers.

Lifting his weight off the bed,

He tilts his head slightly and his lips are pressed against mine.

It was a short kiss. Barely any movement at all. They practically pressed against mine then he pulled away.

He nuzzles his legs at the side of my neck then pulls away completely before I could react.

He left me wanting. If there was a fire inside of me, that was gasoline. My legs are wobbly again.

I’m more concerned about his head which was injured and how he managed to do that. But then again he’s Dylan.

“I feel better already.”

He exhales deeply.

I pull back, standing straight, trying to control my light panting.

Whirling back to him, I watch in awe as he shameless licks his bottom lips which were over me a second ago. That was the plan all along wasn’t it?

“You’re just so…”

I paused when I heard the door creak open. Since I was staring mostly at Dylan, he had the first sight of who walked in. I had the first sight of his reaction. It wasn’t pleasant.

Dylan’s face summed up in a frown then it moved to disgust and finally rage. Nothing like what I got. This was multiplied.

I had to turn and see for myself. What got him like this.

Turning back, Brandon and some of his teammates alongside Dylan’s teammates walked in. Paula and her crew went in with them and so did Miranda.

The coach wasn’t here which was to be expected. He had to take care of things back there. Brandon was the first to speak up. He wasn’t being subtle about how much he’s enjoying this, instead of sympathy all you could get was a smug grin.

“Dylan, I’m so glad you are okay. I thought something might have happened, you know accidents happen on the pitch every time. Most times, the injured person doesn’t survive. Soccer is such a risky game, but I’m glad you’re okay.”

Sarcasm was practically dripping off each word.

He’s not happy! He wanted Dylan badly injured maybe even in a coma! All for what? I held the metal rail of the bed.

I’ll kill him.

“The game is on Friday but you look wounded, I can only pray you to get better before then else I fear you might not be able to play as you know health comes first.”

He finished off with one of his best fake smiles, nodding his head a few times.

Dylan’s teammates continued to glare. A blind person could easily note the double meaning of each of those words.

My mind drifted slowly to his earlier words utter with nothing but confidence, it was practically oozing off his skin.

The fall was no accident. He played dirty. He did it for revenge. It worked because, in this current condition, there’s no way Dylan can play.

Without Dylan, everyone knows their chances of losing drops by over 50%, maybe even more.

All of this just makes my blood boil.

I whipped my head to him, Brandon Reed was staring straight at me, his eyes were daring. He knew my hands were tight, which made me even more annoyed.

He knew I had no proof, I couldn’t do shit to him. If I had the chance, I wouldn’t report, I’ll slam his face into a fucking wall.

Anyone who was watching would see my knuckles turning white, I hate him. I hate him and I can’t do anything. He has me backed up against a corner.

As always.

****

*Author’s Note*

*Another apology, so sorry. I had exams for the past two days. I’m back now!. Drop your thoughts down below. Much Love.*