I’m feeling better today, sober and more straightened out, despite my suffering; heart less heavy after the long hours with my favourite beau with his wisdom and cute smiles. Arrick always has a way of making me see sense, grounding me and keeping me sane when I am free falling. Life makes sense when he’s around to influence me and I can never resist that squared jaw sexiness he oozes effortlessly. Poster boy for teen heart magazines, right here.
‘Jake and I share DNA, so that’s hardly a shock. Besides, you pretty much love Jake to death, so it’s hardly a put down either.’ We work our way into the hall and towards the bank of shiny modern elevators; I hit the button for this floor and wait patiently. I had lucked out when Amber insisted I move in with her, having rich friends had its perks even with my own bank account hardly on the light side. One thing the Huntsbergers made sure of, was that I was always able to feed myself and afford somewhere to live. Even if I have been estranged for almost three months and shaming my family no end; they never cut me off.
‘I love you more.’ I say seriously, devoid of my usual sparkling wit and look away from his instant smile, towards the chrome doors of the elevator. I have told Arrick a million times I love him in the last six years, but somehow, this morning it feels awkward suddenly, maybe because I feel more emotional and insecure as we make to go home again. Maybe because the last year we have grown apart, become distant and this is all new again in the last twenty-four hours. It just doesn’t come out as breezily as it always does and the sudden pang in my chest is completely new and unnerving.
‘I still love you Soph’s, you know that right? I know we kid around and make fun of each other….. But I do love you.’ Arrick’s gaze is steady on my face, watching me closely as the doors ping open, much to my relief. I shrug as way of answer, throat closing with raw emotions moving up inside of me and that heavy ache deep down, threatening to make me cry. He follows me into the spotless marble interior, placing the bags down around his feet as he tugs me closer by the wrist, so I’m now beside him. I still keep my eyes forward, trying like crazy to keep all that silly little girl emotion all inside that comes on like a tidal wave, that is leaving me so suddenly serene and unsure.
‘Hey?’ He shoulder bumps me affectionately, picking up on my weird signals and sudden sombre mood, pushing me for a real answer to his question and not letting up. I keep my eyes on the doors and just smile softly, my heart aching a tad more with his attentions and the stupid warmth that has come over me, makes me tingle.
‘I guess.’ I shrug again and smile wider, feelings being smoothed out, when he slides an arm around my shoulders snugly. We fit, we always did.
‘Less of the guess…. I love you Sophie, you’re always going to be special to me, no matter what happens or who we end up marrying. You’re my girl; still that scrawny kid in beat up sneakers, that you refused to give up, I taught to ride a bike. Still that same skinny tomboy who hit a home run the first time I let you play baseball with us and knocked it out of the park. Nothing changes any of that. Mio Mimmo.’ He kisses me on the temple, holding me against him for a moment and sighing into my hair. I can’t help the wash of tingles or the stupid grin that encompasses my face.
‘You would think I would have graduated to Bambino by now? Mimmo still means I am a child!’ I throw him that pointed look, unimpressed with his childish pet name, despite the smile, for me, and the fact he is pretty much addressing me as child, or the cute version of baby. Even sweet words and gooey feelings can’t ignore how much it annoys me to still be addressed that way by him, a reminder that he is five years older.
‘Can’t ever graduate from that, besides, Bambino is more something Jake says to Emma. I know you’re hot for me Soph’s but we’re sticking with Mimmo until you’re like eighty.’ He shoves into me playfully, smiling down from his taller height and I can only eyeroll at him, my own smile dropping to a sarcastic look.
‘Hot for you? Really? I’d like to say you were my first crush, but I think maybe Jake beat you to that, for like five minutes, so you cannot even get that title.’ I grin his way mischievously this time, giggling childishly as he grips his chest in mock pain in response.
‘What? Sophie? Don’t tell me you had the hots for Jake… I mean, the dude is my brother and way too old for you. I’m like totally heartbroken here, I always thought it was you and me forever kid!’ Arrick’ grins, let’s me go when the doors slide open and picks up all the bags effortlessly. Laughing at the familiar argument of years gone by.
I have always teased him about being hot for Jake as a pre-pubescent teen, always joked I had then seen the error of my ways and fallen madly in lust with Arrick when I met him. Not that any of it was true and he knew that as well as I did. It was just some stupid game we played and another way to tease one another mercilessly, another tick to our barrage of ‘in’ jokes.
Arrick doesn’t need to know that I had in fact had the worst kind of teen crush on him when I first got to know him years ago, and that Jake had never even had a look in. To me, Jake has always been Emma’s. From the minute I met them, I had seen how they were made for one another, crazy in love and both afraid to see it, and despite how hot all the Carrero men seemed to be; Arrick was the one who used to give me butterflies. Then he had become my best friend and the butterflies became something else, something different. He became my dependency.
‘Sorry dude, but you know, black hair and green eyes are a hot combo.’ I wink as I hold the main door open for him, offering to take one of the bags but he just shakes his head at my hand. Arrick was brought up in a very old fashioned Italian manner. Chivalrous and traditional, he holds doors and seats for women, he carries all the bags and he likes to pay for his dates. Even when I hang out with him, despite my family being equally loaded. Arrick always pays my way. I sigh at it, but really, deep down, I have always thought it was really cute, the chivalrous old-fashioned level to my modern man.
‘Screw you. I’ll stick with my brown eyes and weird coloured hair.’ Arrick frowns in mock huffiness, little boy sulking and I can only giggle at the furrowed brows and petted look. Watching the way that mature face changes to lost little boy with wounded eyes and far too cute dimples, that seem to get bizarrely noticeable like this.
‘Your eyes are hazel, with green flecks, and your hair is what I would call sandy, not blonde and not brown. I like it. Would it make you feel better if I said I was partial to your more authentic Italian looks, Bambino?’ I giggle. Trying to soothe that ego of his, smiling at him hopelessly.
‘Maybe. Or you could, you know?…..List all the manly and sexy things about me you prefer over Jake!’ That wicked gleam is followed by a grin and I know he is about to get me back for this. I can almost sense his mind ticking into another way in which he can torture Sophie, I swear he gets a kick out of it.
‘Oooh, tough list, I’m not sure there’s many things I could…….’ I squeal as Arrick dumps the bags on the sidewalk and jumps at me with intent. I swing myself out of his grasp and duck the hands that try to catch me, he’s faster and has more stealth. He manages to catch the hem of the hoody and hauls me in, catching me in a head lock far too easily, under his arm and against his rib cage, so I am held tight and unable to get out or upright and rubbing the top of my hair roughly so it burns. I squeal and fight back but it only brings on a bout of chuckles and his grip tightens.
‘I’ll keep doing this until you can list at least ten things. Ten things that you love more about me than my brother! Come on then…Number one, Soph’s?’ He laughs as I struggle wildly, pinned down in an embrace I have no chance of escaping by muscles that are clearly more than a match for me. I squeal more as he roughly messes my hair again, to remind me that he will, because he is evil and has no scruples.
‘Okaaaayyy…Okaayy!!’ I wail, knowing this is futile. Arrick has many forms of torture when he is being playful, and he isn’t against pinning me on the floor with my arms under his legs, to tickle me to squealing hysteria again.
‘Number
one?’ Arrick repeats loudly, I have nothing else to do but answer him when he’s like this, knowing fine he will just keep tormenting me till I yield. I am more afraid of the tickling than this and I do not have the energy for that kind of hell.
‘You have a nicer ass.’ I blurt out, grasping for straws and aiming for one that he already knows anyway. Not that I have ever checked out Jake’s ass but Arrick certainly has a toned and pert butt of a fighter and often gets checked out. He wears butt hugging jeans most of the time and it’s pretty hard to not see it if you are ever behind him, to the side of him, or he just turns for a moment, it’s like it draws the eye effortlessly.
‘Okay, you think I have a nice ass. Interesting! Can I say, from up here yours looks pretty good too.’ He smacks my ass hard from over the top of me and I curse him out with the sting that follows.
‘Number two?’ Arrick is enjoying this a little too much, I can hear him grinning, even though I cannot get up to face him in this death hold he has me in. My butt is throbbing from that slap.
‘You have better taste in movies.’ I grapple with his arm, hands on his abdomen and hips, in a bid to get free, but he isn’t letting up. All I end up doing is getting squished in a firmer embrace as he laughs at me, enjoying my pitiful efforts. His chuckle vibrates through me from his upper body and even though I am still fighting him, I am also laughing, unable not too.
God, I hate him sometimes!
‘Come on Soph’s, you can do better than that. Here, I thought you loved me more than Jake.’ He grips me a little tighter so I literally gasp for air and try to stamp on his foot, he dodges with another laugh, turning, so I’m dragged in a half circle and almost fall over my own cases.
‘God sakes, do you have to be such a pain in the ass? Sometimes I fucking hate you!......Ughhhh….You have a nicer face!’ I yelp and wriggle uncontrollably, energy waning under his relentless hold and getting seriously annoyed with being restrained.
‘Thanks, I will try and take that as you think I am hotter than he is.’ He’s fully laughing now, properly and undisturbed, completely smug with how incapable I am of getting free and completely amused.
He is such an ass at times.
‘I like your tattoos more than Jake’s… Arrick this is not fun anymore.’ I whine at him, my legs aching with holding me in this pose and sides starting to throb with the effort of laughing. I’m torn between finding this hilarious and wanting to smack him in the face, or the balls. Right now, if I could get a hand free I would definitely attempt the latter.
‘Okay six. More than halfway done. Not many now and I will let you loose. Come on Mimmo!’
I scramble for something, anything off the top of my head that will appease him, trying to calm the throbbing sore head from blood overflow and think rationally. I can’t keep complimenting his face or body, in case he thinks I do actually have the hots for him and blurt out the first stupid thing that crosses my mind.
‘You’re a better kisser.’ I let out in complete desperation, clutching at straws crazily and wracking my brain for more on the spot compliments. It’s not that there isn’t a huge list but I just cannot think while being this exhausted and held down at an angle that is making me dizzy.
‘Wait… What?’ Arrick releases me so suddenly that I almost fall forward to kiss pavement, he catches me in instant reaction and pulls me upright so fast I sway, to face a now very serious looking man, who has lost all the previous humour and looks startlingly shocked.
‘When did you kiss Jake?’
Arrick has an edgy tone to his voice suddenly, that look on his face is scarily pissed and his eyes are alarmingly green for someone with hazel eyes. I can only shrug, fumbling, as I didn’t expect this sort of reaction from him and at this sort of speed. I can barely catch up with the sudden mood change that is so out of character for him, and no idea why he would even think I kissed Jake of all people.
‘I didn’t…. Well, I mean, he has kissed me on the cheek a couple times, but I see him kiss Emma a whole lot, so I can imagine.’ I feel my face heating, now that I think through how my answer was conveyed. Arrick studying me with such an odd expression that he’s making me nervous. He looks like he might want to hit someone, that death glare of Carrero he reserves for assholes he wants to beat.
‘You imagine kissing Jake?’ Arrick is serious, a whole change in his demeanour has me suddenly feeling antsy and unsure how to react to this mood I have never seen on him. He looks completely serious, tilting his head at an angle, frowning harshly with that tone that says he is more than a little bit mad, he’s practically gritting teeth. He is doing his upmost to keep that temper simmering out of sight but he’s not doing a very good job.
‘Eww, No! I mean, I’ve seen him kissing her, so, from you know…. That one time that we did, I guess you are probably better.’ I’m floundering pathetically, heat well and truly creeping up my cheeks in mortification, so that I know they are probably blushed, as Arrick’s gaze narrows harshly.
‘That one time we did? Sophie what hell are you on about? We have never kissed.’ He sounds angrier now, completely unlike him and people walking by on the side walk are taking a wide berth around us, eyeing us suspiciously. Probably wondering if we are having a domestic and maybe he will start throttling me, because he looks like maybe he will.
I don’t get it!
‘You probably don’t remember, you were really drunk.’ I make a move to pick up one of the bags on the ground, to break his intense focus on me, but he catches my wrist and brings me back to him. My stomach somersaults, hands trembling at how weird he is being and have no choice but to be pulled to face him again.
‘When? Where? I would remember doing something like that.’ He is clearly wracking his brain to find that elusive memory and not seeming to like it one bit. His frown has intensified on me and his grip is firm. He is making sure I don’t get away until he gets all the answers he wants. Pretty sure he thinks I am having some sort of break down and imagined the whole thing, or maybe dreamt it up.
‘My seventeenth birthday party. You were so drunk, and you aimed for a kiss on the cheek when you said happy birthday to me. Somehow it ended up on the lips and we sort of kissed a little bit, for maybe like ten seconds.’ I flush at the memory, something I have always pushed down and tried to bury as wholly inappropriate, considering he is more like a brother to me. I try never to think about it, as all the emotion which surrounds it is crazily confusing to me.
I can remember it vividly, a few seconds of soft lips caressing, and then the smallest parting of his, as though he wanted to take it further, before he snapped himself away, apologised like crazy and left. It had been my first real kiss by someone who wasn’t my sick perverted father. The first time I trusted someone enough to even kiss me that way at all and because it was him, I hadn’t felt any fear or repulsion.
‘Shit Soph’s, I don’t even remember that at all. I’m sorry I kissed you; that must have been traumatising. I can’t believe you never told me this.’ He regards me apologetically, letting me loose suddenly to scoop up the bags from the ground, seemingly letting go of all the anger in a flash. Our previous game forgotten in the new change to his mood. He’s reverted to non-mad and just seems a little shocked at learning he once kissed me, in a very non-best friend kind of way.
‘It wasn’t that bad, it was kinda nice, I guess.’ I don’t want him to feel bad about something that wasn’t awful; I avoid looking his way, aware he has straightened up to frown at me before moving back to the rear of his car.
I skirt his car and move to get in quickly, inhaling heavily to calm my rattled nerves, sliding in and put on my belt while he stows my bags in the rear and comes to join me inside. He looks me over for a second, a look of sheer bewilderment, before starting the car; the frown and the sudden silence I know only too well. He is mulling it over and I can’t tell what conclusion he has come too. I also know HIM too well, that if he doesn’t like a subject he drops it fast and moves on quickly. I know already th
at’s what he is about to do.
‘To the Hamptons.’ He finally says as he manoeuvres us back into traffic, not really looking my way. He moves in his seat to get comfy, adjusts his mirror and fiddles with a couple of dials on the stereo without looking my way. Fidgeting is something he rarely does, okay never, and it only super sensitises my already sensitive nerves. I feel that bite of anxiety and take a long slow deep inhale to calm myself. I hate that this last few minutes of conversation has weirded him out this way.
We‘ve barely gotten to speed, when his phone ringtone, shrills through the car, disrupting the tense atmosphere like a welcome alarm. He flicks something on the panel beside the wheel, hitting the dash button to answer it on speaker without checking caller ID and carries on looking ahead.
‘Hello, Arrick Carrero speaking.’ He says brightly in his normal business tone. I relax back in my chair, trying to push all the tension forming inside of me away, and try to forget the last five minutes by brushing it off as nothing. This is a four-hour road trip and we have enough to get through before I get home, without starting out with awkwardness and strange ‘joojoo’ between us.
‘Hey Darling.’ Natasha’s voice comes over the internal speakers, a little too honeylike for my liking. Try as I might to warm to her, I just can’t. To me she is the absolute worst for him, they are alike, yet she is also boring, anal, far too prim, like a nineteen fifties reject who dresses like a Stepford wife. We are not that far apart in age, but she acts like she is my mother’s age at times and she seems to make him forget that he is still young enough to have fun, or freedom.
‘Hey.’ Arrick glances at me with a mild eyebrow warning, he’s warning me to behave, knowing fine that sarcasm is a swift reaction. Not that he ever can stop the crap that comes out my mouth when it comes to her, it’s impulsive, like breathing, or throwing up when you drink too much.
The Carrero Heart - Beginning: Arrick and Sophie. (The Carrero Series Book 4) Page 10
