The Carrero Heart_The Journey_Arrick and Sophie

by L. T. Marshall

  ‘Guess I’m just used to guys who try to hump my leg constantly, fuck me about, leave me hanging, and screw my so-called mates when they don’t get what they want.’ I shrug this time and go back to torturing my food with my spoon. Complacent about my dating past and not feeling anything about any of the scumbags who never deserved me anyway.

  ‘None of that is ever going to happen with me. We have always been able to be honest with each other. I might occasionally hump you though, when I get majorly horny from you doing things like this.’ Raising a brow, he moves my foot which has crept up his warm leg under the table of its own accord, wiggling toes up his leg, not really thinking of what that had been doing to him. With a warm hand around my heel he lets my foot drop back to the floor with a furrowed cute look.

  ‘Oops.’ I blush and sit my feet together on the floor. Feeling a little cold on the wooden surface seeing as I am barefoot. Arrick adjusts his sweatpants and carries on eating, shaking his head at me with a half-smile that sets his dimples off. Sighing heavily that his girl just about gave him a boner without intending too, with her foot because they were cold.

  ‘Don’t ever be afraid to just talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking and just call me out on bullshit. We are no different to how we were, only closer. I want to be closer than we were.’ He picks up his glass of orange and takes a long drink, watching me carefully. Every mannerism controlled in his very Arrick way. I watch in fascination as he drinks his squash at his Adams apple moving sexily in that strong neck.

  ‘That sounds …nice.’ I answer, aware that he is a little too focused on me still, eyes going straight back to my bowl now he puts his glass down.

  For goodness sakes, stop obsessing Arry!

  ‘Eat Sophie, for the love of god I will literally spoon feed you.’ Arrick looks at his watch and pushes my bowl back at me in agitation, after I eased it further out again; getting up now he has finished and giving me that Carrero glare. He is trying to exert a little command and failing. I just shake my head at him and meet a sigh of resignation.

  ‘Okay, so we have all that agreed on… Anything else?’ I pout, pulling over the bowl and take a spoonful anyway, because now his sighing has me feeling shitty when all he wants is to take care of me and his irritation is becoming evident. I am pleasantly surprised that it actually tastes good and start to dig in while he takes his bowl to the sink and rinses it. He looks up, sees me chewing and smiles impulsively. Happy that he thinks he has some sway over me when really, I just didn’t think I could handle any more of his womanly whining.

  ‘You tell me… Is there anything you want to talk about, or set in stone?’ He asks pointedly. I must admit it’s odd to see him standing washing dishes at five am while dressed in gym clothes and looking weirdly domestic, this is all oddly domestic. And that brings a certain nineteens fifties aspiring housewife to mind.

  I ponder telling him to cut Natasha off once and for all but hold my tongue, knowing that it is selfish and pathetically insecure, and he already explained to me why he won’t. He won’t be impressed when I say screw her father’s cancer and kick her to the curb. The little brat voice in my head says I should demand it with bells on and yet Miss Mature, trying to be a better person, tells me to keep it to myself if I want this relationship to go anywhere.

  ‘I want to go out on proper dates.’ I blurt out instead, not sure which part of my brain formulated that one when looking for an alternative to burning Natasha in hellfire.

  ‘Tell me where and we will. Or do you want me just to surprise you?’ Arrick doesn’t even blink at my request, mind on planning our life I guess, and it’s strangely reassuring to see him back like this. Back to the guy who would just drop a trip on me, jump at an idea and plan everything I said on a whim. He stopped being this guy when he was with her, like she just sapped all the spontaneity out of him.

  ‘The aquarium, and the zoo… I miss skiing with you, and maybe we could do that rock climbing thing again in the sports place you used to go to.’ I lift up my spoon and watch the contents pour back down into the bowl, mesmerised by the way it sploshes in the milk before trying another spoonful and again being surprised that it still tastes edible. I am hungry enough to eat it now, and decide I may not die if I allow him to feed me one healthy breakfast. My parents make me eat this kind of crap from time to time so might as well face it.

  ‘So, you really want me to take you everywhere we used to go, and do the things we did before I moved out here?’ He laughs, eyeing the mess I am making and says nothing. I wonder if that little OCD part of his brain is thinking about putting a bib on me and maybe feeding me manually next time.

  ‘U-huh, except you know! You could throw in a lot of romance too. Maybe a candlelit picnic at the zoo or matching ski suits with ‘I love Sophie forever’ written on your hat!’ I shrug and stuff a huge mouthful in this time, crunching noisily even though some of it has gone soggy.

  Still tastes edible!

  ‘You don’t want much do you baby?’ He chuckles, tossing the dish cloth he is using to the side and rolls his sleeves back down. Weirdly sexy seeing him being a house husband.

  ‘Sure, we could do all that and more.’ He comes back to stand at his chair casually and watches me continue eating, ungracefully. I wonder if eating like an untrained ape is sexy to him at all and judging by the frown on his face right now, I guess not.

  ‘I want Cheeto’s, Pepsi and a corn dog for dinner when I come home from school tonight.’ I add, knowing fine well that after enduring this for my start to the day, I deserve a decent meal later.

  ‘You can have pizza and a milkshake.’ Arrick adopts his no nonsense fatherly tone, I have heard this a million times in the past and know I have zero energy right now. I can always argue the point later.

  ‘Fine but I want a chocolate sundae for afters.’ I add, suddenly picturing ice cream in my mind’s eye. Preferably a very big mountain with a million toppings.

  ‘Okay, for tonight, but you will be eating better if you’re staying here and there’s no arguing about it.’ He pushes his chair in, moves his left-over mat from the table and tosses it on the counter behind him.

  ‘We’ll see.’ I raise an eyebrow at him wickedly and he only sighs heavily. Still watching me eat as though he has never witnessed feeding time at the zoo and I wonder if he wants to video it. Maybe it’s just he has never seen me put something moderately healthy in my mouth and is making sure it’s not an illusion.

  ‘I know that look Soph’s, I’m not going to fold so easily anymore. I already know what you’re like to handle and this is not how it’s going to stay!’ He challenges me, eye to eye.

  ‘You know what you’re letting yourself in for then, therefore don’t expect any drastic changes to my eating habits.’ I shrug stubbornly and pout a little in his direction. Waving my spoon his way and splashing watery yoghurt all over the place.

  We face each other silently for a moment as we stare each other out with lowered brows, a non-serious face off before he sighs again. I can almost smell his defeat in the air and feel strangely smug.

  ‘You’re going to make life hell for me, aren’t you?’ He seems resigned to the fact and he has just realised how bad a life with me as a girlfriend might actually be. I wonder if he has just had his first bout of second thoughts.

  ‘Maybe. You chose this life and me, so you better man up. You did say you would do anything for me!’ I smirk and smile wider when he only sighs and shakes his head.

  Chapter 13

  I yawn as I wander from the elevator into Arricks apartment, covering my mouth and dropping my oversized school bag on the floor by his coat rack in the entrance come dumping ground, for shoes. His coat and shoes are already there, and I can hear the soft strumming of a guitar as I wander around the little wall that conceals the elevator from his lounge area.

  He is sat on the couch strumming his acoustic guitar, oblivious to my arrival and I can’t help but stop and watch him for a moment with a huge smile on my face.
It has been aeons since he played his guitar and I can’t help but reminisce warmly over how many times he has played to me. He looks amazingly sexy with it on his lap, strumming it while concentrating so hard on what he’s doing. He just looks so at peace and not a single expression on that calm beautiful face.

  It has been over three weeks of dating him and we are getting into a routine slowly, going out together, having fun and spending more nights together than apart. I left my friends from their Friday dinner and caught a cab here to wait for him as planned, but he has obviously beaten me home after drinks with his own friends at a nearby bar. Sometimes we still do things apart, I still feel like I should be holding something back a little, not quite ready to fully throw myself at his mercy again and he doesn’t complain when I ask for a night to do my own thing. It is obvious he is still understanding where I am at.

  I slide off my flat pumps and discard my cardigan with my coat, moving across to come up on him from behind so he won’t see me until I run my fingers over those large shoulders that just scream to be touched. These past weeks I have been braver about exploring that body when I cuddle up to him and discovered he has no boundaries in where he lets my hands roam. As long as it’s not down into his pants of course, which he is making sure is off limits and things stay unheated.

  Arrick pauses, looking up and seeing me smiling down at him, catches my face as I lean over and gives me an upside-down kiss, crazily moulding our mouths and managing a very erotic bit of lip sucking that makes me giggle. I run my fingers over his face as I pull away and push my hair back behind my ears.

  ‘Hey beautiful.’ He goes back to his guitar, pulling it back onto his lap as I come around and sit beside him, curling my legs under me in my dress so I can get comfortable to listen. I loved nothing more than watching him play in my teens and cannot express the happiness at seeing him back to this after two years of putting it away because of Tasha. I get a little mental high five at the fact he is back to playing again. Sign that he is happier, more relaxed in his own skin, like he used to be.

  ‘Sing for me.’ I urge him, smiling softly when he glances my way; all awkwardness I felt in the beginning of starting this relationship has fully dispersed in the last few weeks and I feel like I used too, able to just be myself around him for the most part, even with the silly squabbles and disagreements that mean nothing. We still have those, yet they are never about anything serious or important.

  ‘What do you want me to sing for you?’ He strums a few notes as he tunes his guitar again, while I think back to all the songs he used to play well and suited his husky voice.

  ‘The Creep by Coldplay.’ I smile at him, memories of that song one night, two years ago, when we were snowed in at a skiing lodge with no power and only warm beer and friends to get through the night. Arrick played this song to me when most were almost asleep or chilling by the log fire. I was haunted by the memory of how perfect that moment was for a long time after. Arrick smiles down at his guitar as though reliving the same memory, looking my way for a moment.

  ‘I almost kissed you that night. I remember looking at you after this song and thinking how much I wanted to kiss you. Moving in close without even thinking about it and telling myself I was drunk and being an idiot.’ He frowns as he strums another couple of notes, eyes still on me and looking at me like he very much wants to kiss me now. All his subtle little tells on show and hazy eyes.

  ‘You never told me that before.’ I tilt my head to one side and regard him as he starts to play softly on his guitar, moving into that familiar pose, hunched over and tapping his foot for time as he strums the tune of Coldplay’s ‘creep’ gently.

  ‘Guess I put it down to a moment of stupidity, I tried to play it off as just being alcohol driven.’ He shrugs nonchalantly and carries on regardless. Smiling as he looks down at the strings and then back at me.

  ‘I remember you moving in close and moving hair from my face, I didn’t think you would ever kiss me again, so I never thought that’s what you were doing.’ I replay the moment in my head, seeing it differently now I know what he had meant to do, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

  ‘I don’t remember kissing you before that, I know you told me I did. I guess it’s true what they say about being drunk; your real feelings come through when you let your guard down, and it seems I have had a habit of kissing you when under the influence, or at least thinking about it.’ Arrick slides his guitar off over his head, much to my disappointment, but only moves it to one side slightly so he can lean into me and kiss me fully on the mouth. Softly at first and then moving in against my face and deepening it to an open-mouthed kiss. His tongue finding mine as passion spikes. Clearly reliving his memory but finishing it with a new ending and I am not complaining, his kisses are always divine and have my toes curling no matter how many times he has kissed me now. I’ve lost count over the past three weeks, sometimes it’s just a haze of being kissed by him endlessly and this one is another five-star butterfly maker. His hand tracing my jawline and down my throat tenderly, erupting a million tiny sensations across my skin.

  Arrick has avoided letting our make out sessions get beyond this level of passion for the last couple of weeks, always aware of taking things too far and it is starting to get to me. I am not sure if I am ready to get more physical, but his lack of pushing any boundaries is making certain that I will never know unless we try. He is being gentle, cautious even, and infuriatingly gentleman like.

  When I’ve tried to heat things up he breaks off and separates us, cooling it all back down right away. A part of me loves the fact that he is this considerate, and this is just his way of respecting me, taking care of me, but on the other hand I want to feel whole, and capable of having a normal relationship. Part of me is afraid that he will get so used to this weird something, stuck between platonic and not, and we will never move further. I want the whole package, I want to feel like I did in the first moments of that night when he brought my body to new heights of pleasure.

  Like every other time, when blood starts to heat up and kisses become breathless and frenzied, he breaks free, letting me loose and pulls his guitar back between us, back to strumming softly and calming himself down with a little space. I flop back on the couch and stare at the ceiling while listening to him, knowing it’s pointless getting upset about it, even if it irks me as he’s only being the guy I love. He’s only thinking about what taking it further can do to me and I can’t be mad at him for that. His protectiveness is one of his most endearing traits.

  He hasn’t settled on a song yet and still seems to be tuning his guitar. Alcohol I consumed at dinner with Christian and Jenny is making me sleepy and emotional, and when his phone starts ringing I feel myself tense.

  I’m not sure who it is, he takes calls and texts from his family and friends all the time, but my gut says Natasha. The woman has text and called sporadically over the last couple of weeks; tearful long drawn out sobbing conversations and hour-long texts begging him to go see her. He hasn’t, but he tries to placate her, soothe her tears and generally tries to get her off his phone without being cruel. It drives me crazy and is the one thing I am not honest and open about to him. I sulk, I pout and push him away when she calls, and we have had minor squabbles about it in which I always say I am fine and no it’s not upsetting me, I am just being an ass for the sake of it. He just seems to think it irritates me a little, rather than the fact it shreds my insides to fucking pieces when I know he is still connected to her in some way.

  At first I understood, I mean her dad is only getting worse and they don’t think he has much time left; but now weeks in, and more than a dozen of these episodes, I am losing my temper. I catch a glimpse of him pulling his phone towards him and sighing. I see that moment of self-doubt, where he is trying to choose whether to answer or not and I can already tell, he will. To me it says it all; saying nothing, I get up from the couch fast and storm over to the kitchen to look for food. If I am out of direct sight, he mig
ht not see me hating on him and making death motions with kitchen utensils behind his back.

  Opening the refrigerator and pulling out the chocolate and Pepsi he keeps for me, despite claiming he never would, and then rummaging for the box of snacks he dutifully keeps in the cupboard. I put some popcorn in the microwave and try to zone out as I hear his voice on the one-sided telephone call.

  ‘Tasha please, you can’t keep doing this. Are you drunk?’ He sounds tired, strained, but the fact he is still willing to put up with this shit only angers me. I’m tired and irrational and I don’t care if he sees me pissed at this tonight. I am so sick of acting like it doesn’t get to me as much as it does. Tired of the little charade of understanding girlfriend I have had to play for this long, even when she showed up that one time to the movies when we were there, and he ended up sitting with her for twenty minutes across the aisle and ‘consoled’ her. I literally thought of walking out on him that night and never coming back, he just didn’t see how pissed I was at all and its only been growing stronger.

  Gathering up all my snacks onto a tray and leaving the popcorn in the microwave, I walk past him without a backwards glance, chin in the air and the walk of a woman who has had enough.

  ‘I’m going to bed.’ I announce loudly, knowing fine well Natasha will hear me and not giving a single shit about it. I have kept quiet long enough, acting like I am oblivious and never make a peep when she calls, in case it upsets her that I am here; but I am in no mood anymore. This has been eating at me the longer it goes on.

  Arrick is probably frowning at me, for being unnecessarily cruel, but I am not about to turn back and look, nudging the bedroom door open with my hip as he carries on with his obviously oober important call.