Playing Games

Chapter 1

Camille woke up feeling more tired than when she went to bed. She tossed and turned all night, trying to shake the anxiety that came with stepping back into the office. She was supposed to be focused on work, not on what happened between her and Maurice.

But no matter how hard she tried, her mind kept drifting back to that night. The one that changed everything.

It was late, around midnight, when she got the text.

"Come outside."

Maurice never used too many words when he wanted something, and back then, Camille didn't ask questions either. She'd tiptoe out of her apartment like she was sneaking around—because, well, she kinda was. She didn't want anyone knowing about their thing. Maurice was a walking red flag. Tall, fine, and lightskin. She knew better, but still, she found herself sitting in the passenger seat of his car way too many times.

She could still feel his lips on hers from that night—the way he kissed her like he was trying to take her breath away. And damn near succeeded too. The way he pulled her closer, his hand on her neck with that perfect grip, enough to make her want more but never too much. It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.

But the rush always came with a crash. The next day, he'd act like nothing happened. Cold. Distant. And Camille would be left wondering what the hell she was doing. But then, she'd get another text. Another late-night session in his car. And just like that, she'd be back under his spell.

Camille snapped out of it, shaking her head. Enough.

She had to get ready for her first day back. Sitting up in bed, she checked her phone—no messages. Good. The last thing she needed was to hear from him. Not today.

---

By the time Camille arrived at West Communications, the parking lot was already packed. She took a deep breath before stepping out of the car, mentally preparing herself for whatever the day had in store.

Walking into the building felt strange. Everything was the same—the same front desk, the same elevator chime—but it all felt different. It wasn't just about work anymore. It was about facing the one person she wasn't sure she could handle seeing again.

As she headed toward her office, Camille kept her head down, hoping to avoid any unnecessary interactions. Her mind was racing, wondering if she'd bump into him. And of course, like the universe had a sick sense of humor, it didn't take long.

There he was.

Maurice stood at the coffee machine, casually chatting with a coworker, looking just as good as she remembered. Tall, broad-shouldered, his low-cut fade still crisp. That stupid smirk on his face that always had her second-guessing every decision.

Her heart jumped into her throat, and for a second, she considered turning around and heading straight back to the parking lot. But she couldn't. She wasn't about to let him make her feel small. Not again.

Straightening her shoulders, Camille walked toward her office, acting like she didn't see him. She had mastered that skill by now. But just as she was about to sit down, she heard his voice.

"Camille."

That voice. The one that used to make her stomach flip. Now, it just made her tense up.

She turned slowly, trying to keep her cool. "Maurice."

He gave her a nod, his expression unreadable. "Good to see you back."

"Yeah, well, work doesn't stop," she replied, hoping the conversation would end there.

But Maurice wasn't one to let things go that easily. "You got a minute? We should talk."

Camille hesitated. Part of her wanted to tell him to back off, to keep it professional. But the other part of her—the one that still felt that pull—was curious.

"I have several, just not for you." she said, crossing her arms.

"It's just a conversation," Maurice said, stepping closer. Too close. "We've got a lot to clear up."

Camille glanced around the office, noticing a few people watching them. She hated being the center of attention, especially when it came to Maurice. The last thing she needed was for the entire office to know their business.

"Fine," she said, her voice low. "But not here."

"Meet me after work," Maurice suggested, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

Camille sighed. "Mhm. ok."

---

The rest of the day dragged on, and Camille couldn't focus on a single task. Her mind was stuck on that conversation they were going to have. What was he going to say? Apologize? Explain why he went cold on her? Or worse—try to pick up where they left off?

She wasn't sure she could handle that. Not again.

As the clock ticked closer to five, Camille's anxiety grew. She wasn't ready for this, but she knew it had to happen. She had to know why he ghosted her like that, why he always pulled her in just to push her away.

When the workday finally ended, Camille grabbed her bag and made her way to the parking lot, her heart racing. She spotted Maurice leaning against his car, waiting for her.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than it had been earlier.

"Hey," she replied, not quite meeting his eyes.

Maurice nodded toward his car. "Want to talk in here?"

Camille hesitated, there was never any "talking" being done when they were alone together in the car. But talking in the car meant there was less chance of anyone overhearing.

They climbed in, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them was heavy, loaded with all the things they hadn't said before. Finally, Maurice spoke.

"I know I messed up, Camille," he said, his voice low. "But I need you to hear me out."

Camille rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms, bracing herself. "Go head"