‘Yes, that was her, you know I’m with her Tash.’ He sighs again as I try again to angle my hip under the handle to open the door, the tray too full and I am also balancing a can of open Pepsi so can’t let go with one hand. Arrick suddenly appears behind me, opening the handle and pushing the door open for me without removing his cell from his ear. I mutter some thanks under my breath and push on ahead, without turning his way. I wonder if he is going to follow me, wouldn’t be unlike him when I announce I am going to bed, but instead he seems to go back to the couch and continue consoling his ex fucking girlfriend.
‘I know you do, I get that you miss me, and miss that I was the one you always talked to.’ He lowers his voice, I resist the urge to kick the door shut on him and block it out, but I can hear the microwave, reminding me of the popcorn and curse myself. I want to stay in here and rage and not have to walk past him again and face that disapproving look he gives me when I am being difficult. I hate that even now, he can still make me feel like a childish spoiled brat at times and isn’t shy at making it obvious.
He has no concept of what a dick head he is sometimes.
I lift my chin and pace the room for a moment, putting my food on the bedside table and killing time by turning on the tv and finding a movie to turn on low. It isn’t overly late, and we have no plans tonight, except to stay here and vegetate as we have plans to meet his friends for bowling tomorrow night. Christian and Jenny are coming and Nathan too; we have been doing a lot of stuff like this with all of them and even Christian’s boyfriend has been on the scene, James, and I like him.
I hear the ping of the microwave and try to remove any traces of severely pissed off from my face, moving to the door and walking out as I see him taking it from the microwave for me and bursting open the bag into a bowl. He has his phone tucked under his chin and propped on his shoulder, so evidently still talking to her and I just want to throw something at him from all the way over here.
Marching over towards him, I avoid eye contact when he turns and realises I am there, pretending to be absorbed in finding something in the drawer instead, locating napkins and a straw and taking the bowl from him without any contact while looking down at what I am holding. Arrick catches me by the upper arm as I move to head back to the bedroom and holds me steady.
‘Natasha, I need to go. I’m sorry but this is a bad time, go to bed and sleep it off.’ He lets his phone slide, catching it with his free hand and hitting the red button on screen before sliding it back in his back pocket. He leans in to try and angle his face to mine, but I just look off at the bedroom door instead.
‘You’re pissed.’ He states flatly. Still not letting me loose. I just shrug and pop popcorn in my mouth instead and act like I really don’t give a shit. Simmering like a volcano inside, but coolly calm on the surface. Still avoiding his gaze and trying not to erupt, even though everything inside of me wants to; this is the only difference between us since coming back together. I don’t tell him how I am feeling when it comes to Natasha, sometimes in general and I know I should be. There is still that part of me that isn’t ready to let him all the way in yet, an insecure and scared portion of my heart that he will hurt me again. I know Natasha is a topic that I deliberately don’t broach because I am too scared to just come out with it and tell him to choose. My head keeps reminding me that he picked her over me and part of me is scared that if I lay down an ultimatum he will again. Even though I know it’s dumb as hell to even believe it. Insecurity is a messy, shitty thing and logic has no place where it is concerned.
‘Why?’ He nudges me, urging me to look at him, I roll my eyes at him and shrug his hands off me. Making a move towards the bedroom impassively with no desire to even talk about this. I’m just glad he hung up on her and now I want him to leave me alone, so I can hate on him in peace.
‘Don’t give me the silent treatment. You’re pissed because she called. I have no control over that!’ He sounds irritated too and I realise he’s also been drinking tonight, that drunk or even tipsy Arrick is less patient and less understanding. He takes on a much colder and easily agitated version of himself that I can see was probably how he got through being such an asshole in his teens and using and abusing girls. I probably wouldn’t have liked him much back then, but thankfully when I met him he seemed to calm almost instantly. I guess I met him in the right stage of his life.
‘Yes, you do!’ I snap, all anger bursting forth despite telling myself to hold all this in, it has somehow wormed its way out.
‘You can stop being so god damn nice and pandering to her, you broke up weeks ago!’ I slam the popcorn down on the coffee table, spilling a huge chunk of it along with my napkins and straw, turning on him with sheer frustration.
‘Tell her to leave us alone.’ It comes out like a spoiled childish stamp my foot moment and I curse the cocktails I had with dinner for making me like this. I am equally shit when I drink, in totally different ways to him. I get irrational, impulsive and emotionally unstable.
Arrick stands stiffly, still where he had been and just watches me silently, that flat calm demeanour coming into play instantly, which only sparks my fury more. I hate when he takes on this stance of non-emotion, because I know a lecture or argument is coming and he is about to make me feel about twelve years old.
I hate when he does that.
‘It takes more than a few weeks to get over two years, you have no clue how hard this is for her, what she lost and is losing. It was a full-on relationship, I was her best friend, we talked about everything and she confided in me about everything Sophie. I walked away and left her alone at a time when she needs someone to be there for her.’ He is a little too dead pan for that statement, and I want to throat punch him for not realising how much of an idiot he is. He really cannot see the irony in what he is saying, that he left me alone, despite all of that. He really is stupidly dense to not see that right now.
‘It’s called life! I know about being alone and having no one, and I survived. She will get over it, but not if you keep letting her infiltrate our lives.’ Tears begin to sting my eyes and I bite them down, not wanting this, but now here we are here I am not about to fall to pieces over it in front of him. Fuelled by anger at this, her, his stupidity sometimes. I honestly feel like throwing my hands at his face sometimes and beating some sense into that thick Carrero skull.
‘You’re being insecure and jealous, nothing more. Natasha isn’t a threat, she doesn’t have anything to get between us with, she just needs a friend. You know I can’t stand jealous women Sophie.’ He walks off towards his study at the left of us and seems to dismiss me with a look. I erupt in good old fashioned fiery fury hath no hell. The part of me that has been dormant since Leila’s party. He has no clue how much of an asshole that sentence just made him.
‘Fuck you. Stop talking down to me like I’m a fucking child! I hate it when you do that.’ I scream at him, seeing him stop and tense mid stride, he turns harshly, shocked by my sudden outburst and acting like a typical man. I can already tell the response is not going to be full of sweet nothings; that little tight muscle tense on his jaw, brows lowering and angry green glare.
‘Stop behaving like a fucking child then Sophie. She is in pain and you’ve already got me. There is no need for any of this bullshit!’ He yells back, eyes burning with rage and seething so instantly, it makes me lose all courage, my lip wobbles as the tears break free and run down my face, because of my one of two responses to him ever yelling at me. Cry or fight and this time it chooses to be the pitiful reaction. I am so severely disappointed in myself in this moment, but I really have no control about what path my emotions ever choose.
Arrick grits his teeth, sighing and frowning hard but walks towards me anyway, his body bristling with temper but that part of him that cares about me is obviously reigning supreme. He hates seeing me cry, even if pissed off and it’s that nice guy side to him that is clearly caving right now.
‘Don’t cry. I’m sorry I yelled at you.�
� He reaches for me, despite the anger still brimming between us and pulls me into his arms and envelopes me. There is no soft affection in the embrace, only a need to make me stop crying, but obvious he is still majorly pissed and just consoling me out of duty. His arms around me are not comforting and snug, just hang loosely about me as he half-heartedly pats my back.
‘I’m going to bed.’ I break free of his arms, hating how false it feels and push him away. Insides twisting up in agony and so close to just bawling into hysterics. He doesn’t fight me on it, just lets me go and watches me gather up the stuff from the table and walk away. I can still feel his eyes on my back as I walk in the door and kick it closed behind me in a little hostile flag of ‘I still hate you.’.
* * *
I roll over in bed, aware he has followed me after twenty minutes in the dark, my tray dumped and lights and TV off, due to my low mood, not wanting to eat or watch any shitty romances anymore.
The bed dips as Arricks body slides in beside me, we have gotten into a routine of bed sharing; me staying here or him staying with me almost every night and cuddling up; this is the first time I have been in bed before he has come in, since the first few days. He slides his arms around my still body, oblivious to the fact I am awake and buries his face in my hair behind me. I stay still, heart still bruised and even though the tears have dried externally, I am still crying inside. So much anger and sadness mixed up together.
‘Sophie?’ He whispers softly, voice hoarse and tender with no hint of anger anymore, wrapping himself around me snugly so that every part of him fits to me. I try to stay still and not react. Still upset and unwilling to let him know I am even listening, not sure what I even want to say anymore.
‘I know your awake, I can tell.’ He nudges me softly with his knee, a gentle Arry mannerism that makes the pain in my chest soften a little. Aching to be normal with him again and not lie here feeling this miserable. I sigh and turn a little to acknowledge him. Wrapped up tight in his embrace yet still feeling closed off and alone.
‘What is it?’ I whisper back icily, trying to keep the fact I was crying for an age from my voice. I don’t like letting him see when he hurts me, a part of me that has changed since we got back together. I know it’s stupid to hide when he wounds me, but it’s like a defensive knee jerk reaction. Not letting him see my vulnerability is all connected somehow to how crazily messed up I still am and cannot even decipher it.
‘I’m sorry…….. I hate fighting with you baby. I am trying to distance myself from her Soph’s, it’s not that easy. I don’t want to be cruel. I just need you to understand and not give me a tough time on this.’ He sounds hurt, all anger gone and just my soft gentle Arry laying in the dark with me. Winning me back around like he always does, smoothing over bruised feathers and reminding me how grateful I should be that I even have him at all.
I turn in his arms and push my face into his neck, feeling him adjust so he can hold me this way and try so hard to just let this go, so I can feel better. He pull’s me in close and runs his fingers down my shoulder and back, up my spine through my tank top. Nestling close to me and finding a comfy position to sleep with entangled bodies, which is the way he likes us to be.
‘I love you Mimmo. So much baby.’ He murmurs sleepily, obvious that he thinks we are okay, despite my saying nothing except cuddling close. My head and emotions battling one another and dried tears still stinging my face as new ones threaten to fall.
Maybe it’s lack of experience in life and love, maybe I am an immature child, and this is why I can’t understand this. Arrick has always been someone who cares about people and I know this is at the root of why he is just so willing to let Natasha hold on, but now with the weeks passing by, I am starting to doubt this as the sole reason.
Natasha had been his life, he loved her, she had been his future. He chose to go back to her before he came for me and a part of me wonders if maybe just maybe he is having second thoughts and is the one who won’t let her go.
Chapter 14
School is stressing me out today, Christian and Jenny are squabbling in the corner and I have had to redraft this pattern a dozen times already, my focus is all over the place and the interruptions by Karen, another class mate is making me crazy. I should have just stayed home.
I woke up feeling moody and irritable and when Arrick got up to shower I found myself lying in bed and staring at his phone, contemplating if he deleted texts from her. I know it’s stupid. I pushed away the temptation to look at his phone, hating that my mind even went there and knowing how wrong it would be. I would go crazy if he looked through mine, even though there’s nothing I wouldn’t show him. I know I trust him, but my heart and my head is gnawing itself apart with her swirling around between us. I have so many insecurities from before; his choice to have a life with her and not me. His decision to keep her around, and as rational as I am trying to be about all of it, I can’t help how much its making me this way.
I haven’t told him, closing up when she is the topic or the focus, afraid to say it out loud in case he thinks I am a crazy jealous girlfriend. I saw how badly past girls fared by showing the jealous side around him, he literally can’t handle it. He’s not that type of person, doesn’t really get jealous and doesn’t really tolerate it either, because he doesn’t understand it when you’re apparently stable in your relationship. Something he actually said to me and in all seriousness, like he didn’t even see the connection at all. I really felt like poisoning his coffee that day.
In the last weeks he has been the perfect boyfriend, minus the lack of sex that is, and occasional shit head remarks that makes me wonder which planet his brain hibernates on at times. I love him so much sometimes, and other times I wonder what the hell goes on in that pretty head and if murder would be legal if idiot boyfriend was the alibi.
Despite all of that, he’s sweeter than I could have ever imagined, he pampers me and indulges me, even when I am being childish and trying. What started out as only seeing each other a couple of times a week, ended up being together every night, because he would show up to sleep beside me or talk me into coming over when I was done with my sewing homework. Somehow our days have become more and more integrated into one another’s lives in such a brief time without even trying too. He has taken me on every kind of date imaginable and contrary to the guy I used to see with Natasha, Arrick never has his hands off me.
He is always holding my hand, putting arms around me, he kisses me anytime he feels like it. Publicly too, usually a lot. He’s not shy about adoring me and man handling me wherever we go or whoever we are with and he does seem a lot happier and more like the Arry he used to be before he moved out here. He seems more relaxed, back to being less cool and emotionless on the surface towards everyone and just more chilled out. Even his friends have taken note and commented on it when he isn’t listening in.
I know all of that should tell me that I am clearly making him a lot happier than she ever did, but I can’t shake it or shift it. This pit of heaviness is like a black cloud on my sunny day that lingers and threatens to ruin it all. I just feel like there’s a part of his head that I have no access to and in my stupidity, I am convinced that’s where he harbours all his little Natasha memories and feelings away from me.
I haven’t even told Emma about any of this, despite calling her every few days and talking the sex and other stuff through. I know she will tell me I am being dumb, even I know I am, but I can’t help it. It’s been growing over the weeks and now every time I see him near his phone, no matter the reason, I assume it’s her; or if he runs late from work or the gym, or if he disappears into his study to send emails. I just keep telling myself it’s irrational, but it’s there, stuck inside me, clawing away at my sanity. It’s making me crazy inside.
I’m terrified he will wake up one day and say he misses her more than he missed me and leaves me for a life he lost. I worry constantly that I am not giving him the parts that she did and maybe he will realise the nove
lty with me has worn off.
‘Ughhhhh’ Jenny slams down a pile of fabric swatches on the table and slumps down opposite me. Making me jump as I was so lost in my own head and mulling myself into insanity again on this dumb topic.
‘My sentiments exactly.’ I huff without taking my eyes off the chalk line I am drawing across my bodice pattern, changing the angle slightly to better fit my mannequin. I hate making cotton first drafts of clothes, so much adjusting and redesigning that it makes me impatient to just get to my fabric choice and the finished result. I need to feel calm at this stage, not inwardly cursing out my boyfriend and contemplating life.
‘Please tell me yours is man related too and then I will feel less like an idiot…In fact, it won’t be. Your boyfriend is clearly perfect!’ Jenny sighs again, catching my eye this time and I smile softly. Putting down my chalk.
‘Nate?’ I press, she has been ‘casually seeing him’ since my sister’s party, apparently, they are only sex on tap and going nowhere, but it’s obvious from our frequent group nights out that Jenny is falling for him, while Nate is still being Nate. Acting like a single Casanova who shows her a moderate amount of attention but clearly not what she wants. The nights out have been awesome, yet his attention towards her seems to run hot and cold and she never seems to know how to behave around him.
‘I know what we are… He doesn’t exactly promise me anything different, it’s just…… He acts so into me when we are alone together, and then when we’re not, it’s like I don’t exist. He rarely texts or calls me, and I always have to initiate it.’ She sighs heavily, looking at me sadly. I wish I had some optimistic speech or line to give her, but I have only witnessed the same thing and Arrick doesn’t seem to ever have an opinion on it.
The Carrero Heart_The Journey_Arrick and Sophie Page 18