Chapter 104 The Wedding Party [I]
CAMILLA RENÉE
TUESDAY.
I plunge the bottled water over my bed and slid down, but my whole body still wriggles and relive the last fifty minutes of my life. Verity be told. I didn’t think I’ll make it past the section of the library without melting or floating across the floor, but I did.
I could even say a greeting to the distraught librarian, I could dig out my cell phone-order an Uber and subsist by the sidewalk, peeping over my shoulder, half predicting him to show up again.
I ordered pizza and went back to the dorms. I just finished devouring, drank a lot of water. Despite that, I can’t get him out of my system.
Everything makes me recall. My clothes have an imprint of his smell from the number of times he pressed us against each other. My arms, legs, cheeks, and lips are yet to recover from his being. Curse him for making it feel that good.
I didn’t think I could react like this. But I did.
I tossed me over. Right. Left. Forward. Backwards. Staring at the ceiling. Rubbing my palms. Watching a movie. All zilch.
“Fuck my life!”
I swore, mashing the pillow over my face. Who knows, maybe I’ll be lucky enough to die. In death, I can’t possibly be having thoughts of Dylan Emerton.
****
DYLAN EMERTON
“Why are you so giggly?”
“Me?”
I posed confusion. Claire bridges her leg on my bed, sending me a tight look.
“You saw her, didn’t you?”
I bounced my head like a child being offered ice cream. I couldn’t hide my grin.
“Before you yell at me, I didn’t see her. It was a coincidence, I swear.”
She narrows her gaze.
“I mean it. It was after you saw her. What did you tell her?”
That earns her a smirk.
“Nothing. What did she say I told her?”
“Claire…”
“What?”
She howls, snickering all over.
“She seems hurt. The scar is still there to some extent.”
Sighing, I seized a seat beside her.
“I know. The last time I tried talking about it, she shut me off completely. I don’t know how to go about it without pushing her away.”
“Well then, instead of celebrating, I suggest you think of ways to fix it. It’s not an easy issue, Dylan. I saw the look in her eyes when she spoke about the,”table” she’s hurting and before you forget; she has a boyfriend. He’s good and she might like him.”
I coil my fists, slinking at the mention of Jimmy. Give it to Claire to ruin a happy day for me.
“Look. I’m all for team Camlan. I’m your cousin, I’ll always be on your side, but I’m also a girl and want you did doesn’t just go away.”
Claire squeezes my palm reassuringly before getting up from the bed. I fall back and stare at the ceiling
“I’ll get going now.”
She hums and picks up her bag. Sighing, I let her exit my flat and shut the door. Then I toss over and relive that night over. Every time, I wince at the look on her face. The one that made me realise I had broken her.
******
WEDNESDAY.
“No, mother. It’s the start of a semester. I can’t just take breaks for a wedding.”
Rolling my eyes, I peek over the back of the door for my sneakers. They aren’t there either. It’s two minutes after eight am and my class began well-two minutes ago. But Mrs Emerton called and invite me to a family’s friend wedding which I have no intention of attending. I barely know her friend, Windy, it is? No clue.
“Dylan. I don’t think you have Saturday classes. You can come on Friday evening and leave Sunday night and be back on Monday.”
Hell no. I grumble for two reasons. My mother’s incessant persuasiveness and my sneakers are still missing.
“I’ll think about it, mother. I’m concocting no promises.”
“You can bring a plus one.”
That’s supposed to convince me?
“Alright, mother.”
I answer, determined to end the call.
“Oh, and Dylan, for the icing on the cake, I’m almost certain Camilla will be in attendance. Her parents are coming, and I’m sure they’ll invite her. We’re renting a motel with our rooms closely packed. Just putting that information out there.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.
She hung up afterwards and I sight my sneakers behind a pile of dirty clothes but the grin on my face Isn’t because of that.
Camilla will be there? Just the two of us. For the weekend. I can use that opportunity to speak with her without getting fucking interruptions.
And just like that, mother could make my morning. I sprinted to class already ten minutes late. But who gives a shit? In a few days, I’ll be in Los Angeles with Camilla.
Perfect.
****
“Why can’t I be your plus one?”
Claire pouts on the brink of tears.
“Because instead of introducing yourself as my cousin, like a normal human being, you came out as my girlfriend, which is fucking weird, so I’m not having you there. This might be my chance to speak with Camilla. You’re not ruining it.”
She stomps her feet, sniffling loudly. “But I did that for you.”
“Don’t be a drama queen, Claire.”
“You’re fucking mean. Do you know that? Mean!”
I twirl my eyes.
“I’ll make it up to you with Prada sneakers.”
A grin cocks up at the side of her face.
“And the entire ordeal. That could work.”
It infects the others corners of her face and soon she’s smiling sheepishly.
“Good. I’ll need to pack a bag or something. I’ll be leaving Friday evening.”
“You’re sure Camilla’s going?”
“Yes. Her parents will be there as well, so she’ll go.”
“Even though she knows you’ll be there?”
Claire lifts a brow.
I didn’t think of that. Camilla wouldn’t skip the entire thing because of my presence? My pent up excitement fell through.
“How do I know if she’ll be there?”
“There’s a thing called asking? It’s when you walk up to someone and utter a few words which form a question, then wait a few seconds and they mouth some more words which become an answer.”
I glared hard.
“Ask her.”
Claire repeats, nudging her head. I haven’t seen her since Tuesday. Different faculties. Our paths hardly cross. I’m a psycho for using my project as an excuse, but it’s the only thing I have now.
“We have a meeting tomorrow. Do you think you can make it?”
I tap the table while the message remains unread. What if she says no?
“Sure. I’ll be free after evening classes. 5 pm.”
That was smooth. And dry. And casual. Nicely done Renée.
“I have to go now. Thank you for lunch. I’ll go pack a bag and get ready for the weekend ahead.”
“Say hi to your parents for me.”
She yelled after me since I ran halfway to the door in under ten seconds.
****
THURSDAY.
CAMILLA RENÉE.
The presentation is tomorrow. Jimmy and I completed ours today and I am a little bumped that he won’t let me see it.
After the coffees date which followed, I returned to the dorm, got changed, went to class, and then went to the spa with Miranda.
Horus later, I picked a floral black dress and headed to the faculty of arts. Behind it.
It’s just Dylan and his project. I just stand there and watch the entire thing. No need to speak with him or get into tight spaces that might include huddling, hovering, grovelling or all three. Easy peasy.
****
“Are you going to the wedding on Saturday?”
That breaks the dream. I’ve avoided contact for half an hour, but Dylan shoves his way and reaches me with a dollar question. How did he know about it? Mom called on Tuesday evening to inform me of it.
Wait-He is invited too? How did I miss that? More importantly, how can I “uninvite” myself?
“Camilla?”
“Yes, I am.”
I blurt, then watch his demeanour.
“My mom called a few days ago. She invited me as well.”
Obviously. Fuck my life. Dylan will be there.
“Maybe we can travel together?”
“T-Together?”
I stutter.
“Yes. We’re going to the same motel, after all.”
“I know. It’s just…”
I panic.
“I have plans.”
I blurt, besides cutting Dylan through his next sentence.
“Plans? I don’t understand. We’re going to Los Angeles. You’re not going to the wedding?”
His brows knit together in confusion. Damage control Camilla. Fix it!
I’m going to fucking regret this.
“I mean, I invited Jimmy and we’re travelling together. I don’t think you’d want to join us or anything. He’s my plus one. I’ll be with him.”
I let everything in one breath, but even after that, I can’t exhale. I’m not sure he can either since he’s staring no-glaring at me.
It takes half a minute until I realize I just invited Jimmy to a weekend in Los Angeles with Dylan. The three of us together, possibly under one roof.
That should be a blast.
****