Playing Games

Chapter 7

The days after Maurice's last text were quieter than Camille had expected. She hadn't responded to his message about needing to talk, but she also hadn't heard from him since. In some ways, it was a relief. She wasn't ready to dive into another heavy conversation, not when she was still trying to figure out where they were heading.

But Maurice wasn't the type to let things go easily, and Camille knew it was only a matter of time before he circled back.

On the bright side, things at work had been relatively smooth. The presentation they had prepared together went off without a hitch, and for the first time in a while, Camille felt like she was getting her groove back. She focused on her projects, stayed out of any unnecessary drama, and kept her distance from Maurice when needed.

But even with all that, he was still on her mind.

One afternoon, while Camille was sitting at her desk, deep in thought, her phone buzzed. She glanced down, expecting it to be another work email or maybe a text from Tamar. Instead, Maurice's name lit up the screen.

Maurice:

"Hey, can we talk after work today? I'll come to you."

Camille stared at the message, her heart skipping a beat. She knew this conversation was inevitable, but that didn't make it any easier to face. Still, she couldn't avoid it forever.

Camille:

"Yeah, we can talk."

She hit send, feeling a wave of nerves wash over her. They had been dancing around their issues for weeks, and now it seemed like everything was coming to a head. She wasn't sure if she was ready for whatever Maurice had to say, but she knew they couldn't keep tiptoeing around each other forever.

Later that evening, Camille sat on her couch, waiting. Maurice had texted her earlier, saying he was on his way, but now that the moment was here, she wasn't sure if she could handle it. She glanced at her phone again, wondering if she should cancel, but before she could make a decision, her doorbell rang.

Here we go.

Camille stood up, taking a deep breath before walking to the door. She opened it to find Maurice standing there, looking as good as ever. His usual laid-back style was on full display—grey sweats, a plain white tee, and that cologne that made her feral.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and soft.

"Hey," Camille replied, stepping aside to let him in.

They sat down on the couch, an awkward silence settling between them. Maurice ran a hand over his head, clearly trying to figure out where to start.

"I've been thinking a lot," Maurice finally said, breaking the silence. "About everything. About us."

Camille nodded, her eyes locked on him. "Me too."

"I know I've messed up," he continued, his tone serious. "But I don't want to keep running around in circles. I want to make things right with you, Cam. I know I've said it before, but this time... I'm really trying."

Camille leaned back, crossing her arms as she studied him. She believed he was sincere, but that didn't erase the past. "Maurice, we've had this conversation before. You always say you want to fix things, but then we end up right back where we started."

"I know," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But I'm not trying to feed you the same lines. I'm trying to be different, and I want you to see that."

Camille looked away for a moment, her thoughts racing. She wanted to believe him, but trust wasn't something she could just hand back over like nothing had happened.