Camille

Games

Friday night finds me home, as usual. After putting Bailey to sleep I prop myself up in bed with the remote. I'm debating a PBS documentary or Project Runway when my phone disturbs my reverie. I consider letting the call go to voicemail as I furrow my brow at the mysterious number, curiosity wins.

"Hello."

"Hello Camille." 

I drop the remote from my fingertips. I had forgotten how his voice affected my body.

"I hope I'm not disrupting your evening."

"Nn...Not at all."

The line is quiet. Where is this going?

"Ms. Landry, I was wondering if you had an answer to my question?"

"What question?"

I'm attempting to play my hand close to my chest now that he can't see any physical reactions I have around him.

"How long are you going to make me wait for you?"

"I believe I already answered that question." I offer up as aloof as I've ever sounded. I've nearly convinced myself.

"It's dinner, not a proposal, come out with me."

He tires for a lighthearted approach and even chuckles a little. Time to spike this ball back over the net.

"Let me make a few things clear for you Mr. Roen..."

"Alex, call me Alex"

"No you're a business partner, nothing more. You and I will only be business associates, and you will respect that decision."

"I can't agree to that."

"You're going to have to."

"One meal, why can't you just placate me?"

"I don't make a habit of amusing the whims of stubborn men."

"And I haven't made a habit out of accepting the rejection of someone who clearly doesn't know what she needs."

"What's your deal? I can't be the first woman to turn you down. If I had said yes, you would have already forgotten about me. It's just the chase that's got you intrigued."

I'm surprised by my boldness.

"Is that what you think of me?"

"What am I supposed to think Mr. Roen?"  

He's silent and I'm beginning to think that I'm gaining the upper-hand.

"I'd like to see you."

He must be sensing the same thing. Trying to corner me with the thought of the physical reaction I have around him.

"We'll see each other on Friday when you come to review the space you'll need for your shoot."

"That's not soon enough."

"I don't know what to tell you."

"Can I see you tonight?"

"Alex, I'm in bed, my daughters in bed. The day is done, I'll see you on Friday. Goodbye."

I hang up. I'm mentally applauding myself for standing my ground. I pick up the remote and turn my focus back to the mental distraction of my bedtime television routine. I'm watching Tim Gunn mentor the budding designers through their weekly challenge, then there's a nock on the door. I know who it is. I debate pretending I'm not home when he knocks again. I look down at my attire, and as usual I am underdressed to face Alex. I shrug and grab my robe to cover up my tank top and boxers. I hope that my state of undress will be enough to scare him off. I doubt it, but it's worth a try. I check on Bailey, who is sleeping with her foot hanging off the bed and her mouth gaping, I don't have to worry about him waking my heavy sleeper. I make my way to the front door and get myself psyched for what feels like a battle. The door opens and I find a disheveled Alex. His normal confidence seems to have diminished slightly. He's carrying that expression he had in my office. I can't quite place it. His left hand is holding him up on the doorframe, and his right hand is dialing his phone. He stops when I open the door, and raises his head to see me.

"I'm glad you answered the door."

"What would you have done if I hadn't?"

"Called you until you complied with my demands."

He smirks, clearly intrigued by the game he's began with me and is certain he's winning.

"What do you want?"

"I think I've made that clear."

"Ok" I roll my eyes, "let me rephrase that, what are you doing here?"

"I had to see you, can I come in?"

"No, who the hell do you think you are? You show up at my home to harass me after I've already told you no? I'm not ready to date, I'm not ready to explain to my daughter what that would even mean. I'm not ready to upturn our lives so you can figure out if you just like chasing after me."

"Hey, I said dinner. I asked you to dinner, that's it. I don't think I'm being unreasonable trying to take a gorgeous woman out for a meal. And it's not the fucking chase, so stop categorizing me like that."

He steps forward and my heart is pounding at what I've now deemed the 'Alex pace.'

"Give it up, whatever reasons you have for saying no, just give them up. I want you. I know you've got me pegged for some asshole player, but give me chance. Let me prove you wrong." 

My mind battles in it's own confrontation. Maybe he isn't who I think he is. Maybe I do need a change of pace. God I want to kiss him. I don't think my heart has ever beat so fast.

Alex reaches out with his right hand and cups my cheek. His eyes are filled with a longing I haven't seen in a long time. Not lust or carnal hunger, and that's what scares me. Before my mind can reason I rear back and slap him across the face.

"Don't. Touch. Me."

My eyes fill with tears. I've always hated girls who resort to tears, and now I'm one of them. Alex is stunned.

"I'm sorry." He holds up his hands, "I got carried away. Forgive me."

"I think you should go."

"Please say you'll forgive me."

"Alex you need to leave." He purses his lips and his brow furrows as he watches me.

"I'm sorry, I can't leave like this. It's going to drive me crazy." I wipe my eyes,

"I'd like you to go."

He closes his eyes and I watch again as his strong stance withers into a shrunken down version of himself,

"Alright, goodnight."

I watch him walk away and shut the door. Why did I slap him? It was instinctual, maybe it was the guilt I've been carrying since I've met him. For as much as I've wanted to keep professional with him I sure broke that barrier quickly. Well he started it, showing up at my house in the middle of the night was not ok. Either way, work will be much more difficult with him at the studio now. I sit on the couch and look out the living room window. I see a fancy black car parked in front of my house. I know it's him. Why isn't he leaving? I can make out a shadow of Alex resting his head on his steering wheel. He rubs his face runs his hands through his hair a few times and then makes a phone call. He talks for a while, fidgeting. I jump when he slams his hand on the dashboard. He hangs up, turns on his car, and peels out of my quiet neighborhood. I wish I hadn't seen that, I'm finding myself feeling sorry for him. An emotion I'm not the least bit comfortable with. All the emotions I feel towards him make me uncomfortable.