Living With The Player

CAMILLA RENÉE

SUNDAY.

“Did you get hit by a bus or watch a cat get killed? You look like shit.”

I slid into a booth, taking a space beside Miranda, ducking my head for a slice of pizza.

“Mood swings.”

I shrug my shoulders, lunging for another.

“Who did you meet up with?”

She pulled my hand over her, clasping roughly, compelling my gaze on hers.

“If you ask politely, I might reckon to tell you.”

I bat my lashes, taking a page from Jimmy’s book. Using humour to brush off awkward moments. It worked. Miranda arched both brows, then revoked her arm.

“I’ll be back. I need to place my order. I’m thinking pepperoni. This chicken is not it.”

I push my lips down on each corner, forcing a tight smile. It’s until I face my back against my best friend I’m able to let the mask drop and sniffle.

Truth be told, I was one bus away from going back to the dorms and skipping the outing, but knowing Miranda, she’ll bust my ass in the shower or on my bed and drill the truth out, anyway.

The only way I could escape is facing her head-on. I’m aware of my crimes. Being a hypocrite-hiding the truth. But I can’t let her know just yet.

Soon.

I stood in line for collection, thumping one foot on the floor, peaking to see when my name would pop up on the screen. Eight more customers.

“What topping are you getting?”

Pushing my hair back, I whirled to glimpse at the voice over my head.

He entertained my look with a cheesy smile. I’ll say the early twenties. Maybe a student at Cal-U.

“Roni.”

I quipped, then fended off.

“Same here. Your favourite?”

Twirling my eyes, I offered a quick nod and retreated to the screen. Four more orders before mine.

“Do you come here often?”

Just when I thought the day wouldn’t get any worse. I’m being hit on while waiting for my pizza.

“No, it’s my first time. I’m here with someone.”

I answer without giving him a stare. If he’s smart, he’d back off.

Dylan thought “someone” was a guy. Hopefully, he’d think so as well. And I’m back to thinking about him.

Ugh.

It’s the weird pizza guy’s fault.

I cringe my nose and frown, tapping my feet impatiently.

“If you were here with me, I’d never leave your side. Not for a second.”

Gross. That’s hand’s down the worse pickup line I’ve gotten in a while.

Seriously?

“Thank you.”

I mumble, biting my bottom lips in annoyance. Fuck, when will this pizza get off the fricking oven?

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out sometimes?”

He drew closer; I know because I can feel his breath fanning the nook of my neck.

I trudged away, stirring my head to the top board. Two more orders before mine.

“No.”

I retorted back, curling my fist.

“Why…”

“Hello, gorgeous.”

I released a breath of fresh air.

Jimmy.

Grinning fully, I swerved and hooked my arm with his. His eyes twinkled with mischief, tightening his grip on my other hand.

“I was wondering how long it’ll take to get the pizza. You’ve been gone a while.”

I chuckled and leaned into him, trailing my fingers up his arm.

The other perv glared at Jimmy, then backed off. Thank the heavens.

Once he was out of sight, I exhaled and shifted.

“How did you know?”

“Feet tapping, sighing, biting lips…”

He shrugs, hinting at a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“Camilla.”

The attendant called, stretching a box of pizza.

“I’ll be back.”

****

“What are you doing here?”

I eyed Jimmy suspiciously, glancing at Miranda hiding behind a slice of pizza. Hiding a smile.

Of course, she tries to hook us up again.

“I was in the area.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed one for myself.

Of course he was.

“Have you decided who to use for the presentation?”

“I did. She refused to be quote a lab rat.”

“Yes. I’m not an experiment.”

Miranda chirps, flipping her hair behind her back.

Drama queen. I mused and turned to Jimmy

“Great. I was thinking we’d use each other for the presentation. There’s no rule for psychology students, is there?”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll agree to it.”

“Why?”

He taunts, eyeing me from the corner of his eyes.

Why? We’ll spend time together. Have to discuss and make observations about the other. Nope. Not taking that chance.

“Co-ask. It seems like a perfectly good idea. I mean, it’s not like you have a bucket of friends just waiting to volunteer.”

I glared at my best friend, taking the side of the guy she wants me to be with instead of the said best friend.

“Still no. Not interested.”

“We have a week to turn it in. I’ve already written your bio.”

“Delete it.”

I hissed in annoyance.

“No. I’ll wait. When you don’t find anyone, you come to me.”

“Cocky much?”

I fired. He chortled and finished the last slice.

“Not really. Mostly confident.”

Jimmy winks, leaning on the booth. I and Miranda are nearly finished. Guess we’ll be leaving soon.

He’s right. I don’t have anyone else to ask. Miranda was the first and only option, but I’m not telling him that and feeding that huge ego. I’ll just search for volunteers in school.

Ugh. I’ll have to spend a few hours with a stranger. He better not be a creep like that perv earlier.

I looked up, and Jimmy was already gazing.

“Fine. You can be my client. We meet on my terms, and it’s strictly for the presentation. Nothing more.”

I warned, chunking the last piece.

Smirking, he bobbed his head and grabbed a napkin.

I better not regret this later.

Jimmy and I are both done. Miranda is the only one left. Since we’re seated beside each other, Jimmy takes the other end of the booth.

He’s facing the door. Slowly yet suddenly, his face grows harder. His once blue eyes twinkling with excitement and mischief darkened and filled with scorn.

I locked my gaze on him, but I come to know that his is latched onto something else.

Someone else.

The door sounds a bell noise and I hear footsteps striding towards this booth. Or is it to place an order?

If Jimmy’s demeanour switched that easily, I don’t think it’s an ordinary person.

Pressing my palms over the table, I rotate my head and take a peek for myself-regrettably.

It’s Dylan. Not just him, but three other guys are strolling behind him.

He hadn’t changed his outfit from earlier, but the rest of them had jackets on, equally hot. Not equally. Dylan beats both of them combined.

I tear my gaze away. Jimmy is still staring. Glaring rather.

I count five seconds before they get to us, or maybe I’ll be lucky and they don’t notice. Or walk right past and order.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

“May I join in?”

I’m not.

The other two guys strut ahead to order, but Dylan halts right in front of our table.

Miranda’s head snaps to his face. If she’s shocked, she does a great deal to conceal it.

Her features are plain as she accesses him.

I slip my hand underneath the table and grip.

It seems I’m staring at Dylan, Jimmy stares at me and Miranda stares at all three of us.

A standoff.

Meanwhile, Dylan just asked if he could seat and I can’t find any words to pass my fucking throat.

Yes? No? Get lost? Fuck off?This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Nothing.

“No, you may not.”

Jimmy speaks for all of us. I breathe a little through my mouth, nibbling my bottom lip gently.

Please walk away. Please.

“Right Camilla?”

Jimmy adds. I choke, flinging one hand to my chest.

“I need to use the restroom.”

I blurt and hop off the booth. I can sense his gaze on my back and I walk slowly. I lower my head yet once I’m by him, they lift on their accord to glimpse. He smirks and takes my seat.

“I’ll be here waiting.”

He says, then tucks his hands.

****