‘I’m just feeling a bit yucky, that’s all.’ I pick up my Pepsi to wash the food out of my mouth and try not to push him away when he kisses me on the cheek. That same old urge to abhor touch when I feel upset, only I know I am being totally stupid about this and he has nothing to be blamed for. He looks completely gorgeous, even for being a thick shithead sometimes and those concerned hazel eyes are boring into my face and making me feel worse.
‘You want me to take you home?’ He feels my face as though checking for my temperature and I pull my cheek away in irritation. Agitated as hell that the walls are closing in on me and I just need to breathe.
‘I’m fine.’ I say it snappily, then feel heat intensify in my face at how I am being; prize bitch comes to mind. Especially when he is doing nothing but being an attentive boyfriend, like he always is. I sigh heavily and push myself up from the seat in a bid to get some space and get my head together. Avoiding his eyes on me and knowing if I keep this up we will have another Natasha related squabble in which he will make me feel like crap once more. I don’t want to fight with him, all I wanted tonight was for him to make me feel less messed up and cuddle me in. Now I don’t even want him to touch me.
Why am I such a weirdo?
‘Take our next shot, I need to go to the bathroom.’ I can feel his eyes on me as I stand, pushing out of our seating area and head for the ladies’ room alone. Knowing this is stupid and I am punishing him for basically nothing. Even though he was dumb enough to go talk to his bitch ex and start this idiot bad mood of mine. I just feel completely gutted suddenly, upset and closed off once more. No idea how to even deal with myself in this moment, so how can I expect him too?
Pushing through strangers and walking into the small enclosed space for air, I push the door open to the ladies’ bathroom at the back of the huge hall. Strolling in confidently, if not a little heavily, I walk to the bank of vanities and look at myself in the mirror; hair sleek and perfect, make up flawless and dress doing a lot to make me look like a twenty something sex kitten with long legs and curves for once. I look like a girl who is probably giving her boyfriend the best sex of his life, sassy and bold with an air of capability and just feel like a fraud as I stare at my own reflection numbly. I still have the grace and airs of a girl who knows how to have fun, the cheeky youthful face of a girl who knows how to work sex to her advantage, and the body of someone who gets a lot of attention whether she wants it or not. I look the part, yet he isn’t getting the package he probably thought he was. It just makes me feel worthless.
The cubicle door behind me opens as a girl walks out with her head bowed. I look down from the reflection of her in the mirror and rummage for my lipstick to touch it up while I am in here, stalling for time so that I can simmer a little and not cause a major bust up with Arry when I go back out. Trying to claw back my sanity and bring some sense of calm back to my war torn muddled brain.
‘Sophie?’ Natasha’s familiar voice startles me, and I look up in alarm, unsure how to react at all when I catch her staring at me in the mirror with open eyed shock. Last time I saw her properly was the morning after Leilas party, the only time before that was the night she caught Arrick and I making out, while I was naked, and his mouth was on my breast. I blush instantly, suddenly unsure how to react or what to say, so I go for a half smile instead, eyes glued to hers in the mirror. I drop my lipstick into my bag and fumble to close it, knowing I should just make me excuses and get out of here.
She looks me up and down slowly, taking in my outfit, hair and face with slow deliberation and a look on her face that tells me nothing. I can’t help but do the same to her, and notice how odd she actually looks. Clothes too tight and short for what I am used to seeing, far more make up than she ever wore and a sort of trampy look to her entire style that seems messily pulled together. Her hair has been highlighted so it’s not as deep brown, a few inches shorter and she’s wearing heels I owned, like five seasons ago when ‘slut chic’ was actually a thing. She looks like a bad attempt at being me in my wilder stage, only with less class and curly hair.
‘You look …. Happy.’ She says almost bitterly. Pulling her bag up and laying it on the vanity beside me as she starts fussing with her own appearance, mirroring me but the atmosphere is suddenly heavy and strained. She has clearly tried to sex her style up and looks wrong in so many ways. Like she’s playing at being someone else and that, matched with the wild drunk haziness in her eyes just makes me a little wary of her right now. I don’t know this version of her at all.
‘I , umm…. Yeah. I guess.’ I stammer awkwardly, the urge to up and run coursing through me but I stand my ground. I have never fled from a real fight in my life and I will face her head on if this is how it’s going to play out. Not that I want that though, despite my issues with her and Arry, I still would rather have some sort of civility between us if I must be here now. As hard as this is, I still owe her some sort of apology too, even if she doesn’t accept it, and as much as I dislike what she was to him and the fact she’s still clinging on like a bad smell, I still harbour some sorrow for how it went down. Especially knowing her father is dying. That clinging guilt inside of me which drives me insane is gnawing at my gut and cooling my temper successfully.
‘Look Natasha……’ I stop when I catch her glaring at me in the mirror frostily. No confusion to the spiteful and hateful look she is focusing on my face right now, and it takes me aback. I wasn’t sure she had the ability to pull this sort of bitch from her arsenal of pretty and sweet expressions.
‘Don’t okay. Whatever dumb fuck shit is going to come out of your mouth…. Just leave it. There’s nothing you can ever say to me that will make a difference to how I feel about you.’ She slurs; the swearing, the nasty tone, all of it is like a complete slap in the face from the girl she was before, and I wonder how much is the alcohol she has clearly consumed and how much was waiting inside of her all that time. If sweet Natasha was just an act all along to keep Arry under her thumb and this here is the real her, showing her true colours. I don’t want to think she could be that manipulative. Arry may be slow in the uptake in some things, but I know he’s insanely good at reading people sometimes and he wouldn’t have been blinkered for two whole years with just an act of sweetness.
‘I only wanted to say I was sorry, that it was never meant to go the way it did.’ I blurt out, somewhat in shock and she just sneers at me cruelly. I honestly cannot get my head around this version of her and suddenly I don’t feel quite so sorry anymore. The fire in me igniting when faced with a snippy hostile tone and looks that act like daggers in my face. This isn’t some sweet vulnerable girl facing me down, it’s a hardened bitch who hates me and I am all up in that for a take down.
‘Sure… Whatever. You spent years trying to get him and you finally did. Can’t believe I never fucking saw it until it was too late. You’re a manipulative spineless whore who clearly uses sex to get what she wants from him. I don’t even want to know how many times you two fucked behind my back before I caught you. Was so stupid not to see it and you both deserve each other. Don’t worry though, pretty sure he knows where I am when he gets bored of on tap sex from a slut and wants someone more substantial.’ She snarls again, only this time her voice hitches and she stumbles in her shoes again; catching the counter to steady herself and I catch a lungful of alcohol stench breath coming off her. I recoil from the urge to shove her fully over and get satisfaction from watching her tumble off her own heels. Instead I bite down and grit my teeth, clench my fists into my bag to hold my temper in, that’s bubbling inside like hot lava.
‘You know what? … I was trying to be an adult about this, but fuck you.’ I feel that good old Sophie temper snap at how she is being, insulted that I was only trying to be nice. I pick up my bag and sling it on my shoulder, make a point of fixing my hair and checking my appearance to show I will not be moved to hurry because of her.
‘Maybe if you were fucking him to satisfaction he wouldn’t have looked el
sewhere Tasha. Clearly something was missing if he had to come to me.’ I snarl back, complete bitch mode executed and not caring if none of it is even true. I know I owe this girl a sorry, but fuck me if I am going to stand here and take abuse from a snarly faced bitch who has been mercilessly stalking my boyfriend for weeks. I left, and she lost him anyway. That is not down to me, that is down to him, and what he wants.
Which is obviously me!
I turn to storm off and halt in shock as she bursts into a flood of tears in front of the mirror, so unexpected and like having a bucket of icy water thrown over me to cool my heated jets. Her bitchy tone dissipates, and she is nothing but a blubbering mess, grasping for tissues in a bid to stop her make up pouring down her face and I don’t know how to react. Anger bristling, temper engaged, yet that underlying guilt for her eating away at me and making me stand rooted to the spot when really, I should be storming out of here. I should be throwing back ‘I don’t cares’ and sassily butt swaying my way out like a Diva about now. That’s what younger Sophie would do.
‘Look at what you did to me.’ She sobs into her mound of tissues pitifully, like a broken child who has just seen her kitten get run over.
‘Look at what I have become.’ She picks up another wad of tissues and rubs her face manically, looking at her pathetic reflection and sobbing more at the chaos staring her back in the mirror. I turn and look at the mess she is making, feeling stupidly responsible and cursing my inability to just embrace my bitch side fully at any given time. I sigh heavily, walking into a cubicle to grab some more and bring them out to dampen in water before handing them to her to clean her face. She looks at me for a moment as though I have lost my mind and then takes them cautiously, suspicion evident and yet a tiny hint of gratitude that I even care enough to hand her them. It hits the guilt spot a little harder and I could honestly punch myself in the face for being so weak sometimes.
‘I wasn’t having sex with him. Nothing else happened between us… Not till long after you two broke up.’ I say with a sigh, hating how pathetic this makes me and not caring anymore about point scoring. I am not that bitch and I don’t ever want to be; I have had a lifetime of being around bitches and I abhor all of them. She looks at me again and sniffs a little, her own hate-face calming a little and some hints of the girl she used to be shining through. That air of vulnerability that just seals my fate, hits me in the gut harder and I have to look away to regain composure.
‘Really?’ She looks like a wounded puppy in the reflection staring at me and I feel myself cave completely. As much as I dislike everything around us; if I knew her only as this… a girl I met in the bathroom. Then I would probably hug her and console her about her idiot ex for letting her go. I hate complicated, it just bursts my head.
‘Really. We kissed, a couple times and nothing else, and then he chose you and I walked out of his life.’ I look away from those interrogating eyes, rummage for wet wipes in my bag and hand her the whole pack in a bid to get her focus off me. Damp tissues are just smearing what’s all over her face into a grey sludge and I have no desire to watch this girl just look more pitiful with every swipe. I turn on my heel to leave her to her face and go to walk away, pretty sure there is nothing more to talk about anyway. We will never be friends, we never were. I don’t want the added burden of this conversation on my heavy heart tonight and I don’t want any more reason to convince myself that I am immature when it comes to hating her presence in our lives.
‘I’m sorry about what I said to you… I trusted both of you, this wasn’t how my life was supposed to turn out.’ She sniffs again, voice trembling and weak from behind me, and I feel myself weaken some more, heart sinking and body deflating. Hatred for her waning and guilt reigning supreme when faced with genuine heartbreak; I hate that I am this easy to manipulate at her gentle hands.
‘I’m sorry it came down to you or me, it was never the plan….. I’m sorry you got hurt, that one of us had to.’ I reply sadly, with genuine remorse in my torn tone. Hating the heavy pit in my stomach that is directly for her. I don’t wait for a response, my eyes misting and face aching with trying not to cry, as I walk out of the bathroom at speed and head back into the bowling hall in a bid to get away from everything she makes me feel.
People in my way, making me even more agitated. I spy Arrick and my friends still in the booths, laughing, having fun across the crowded room and generally oblivious to what’s taken place, it just feels surreal and I am no longer in the mood to be here anymore.
‘You look serious.’ Nates voice alarms me from the left and I see he’s carrying a tray of fresh drinks; beers mostly, and I guess they are all moving onto alcohol now everyone’s had enough food. For some reason every social occurrence with this lot turns into a few drinks when evening hits, not that I mind, it’s just that I am not in the mood right now.
‘Natasha was in the bathroom when I went in, not the best moment of my life exactly.‘ I shrug, knowing Nate can be a good ear when he wants to be. Despite his ‘screw everything in sight’ personality. I don’t know why I am sharing when I don’t even want to talk about it. I guess I just needed to say it, to let it go.
‘Wanna talk about it?’ He offers, nudging me towards the seats, but I hesitate, seeing Arrick in the clearing laughing and pushing Jason over a seat. It makes me fold and start moving towards him, forgetting everything and just seeing my beacon of calm and stable, he is just too alluring a face to not want to go too when I feel this shitty; he just makes it better. His laugh alone has me wanting to be back beside him, wrapped in those arms he always throws my way and I go into blinker mode, setting my sights on where I need to be.
‘Nope. Just forget it.’ I smile at Nate tightly and then focus on the body that is calling to me like a siren and only becomes more alluring when he catches my eye and throws me a sweet little wink and smile. That little finger gesture that says, ‘Come here, baby’ and I am powerless to do anything but obey.
Chapter 17
Arrick half carries me, half walks me backwards from the elevator, mouth glued to mine as he kisses me passionately, hands all over me and things getting steamier than they have since Leilas party. Fingers roaming one another, not looking where we are stumbling and just fully focused on making each other as horny as humanly possible without physically putting our hands in each other’s pants. He has my hair all messed up and in my face from running his hand through it, using it to tug my head to one side as he angles just about the most body curling kiss known to man, on my mouth. His tongue seems to be doing a whole new thing with mine and my internals are going to self-implode with the amount of scorching fizz going off inside of me. We bang into a wall, then a table, giggle without breaking our connection and his hand skirts up under my dress to cup my ass and guide me a little more directly into his apartment.
We are both drunk, been pawing and flirting for the last couple of hours when we all moved to a club after bowling and he had me sexy dancing up against him on the dancefloor, grinding saucily and unable to keep his hands from straying. He changed my mood from downhearted and deflated to happy and party ready, in only one long slow kiss and flurry of his hands skimming my body in the alley and ever since then I have been wrapped around his neck, unable to be parted.
The cab ride home was equally steamy as he pretty much pinned me against the seat and kissed me relentlessly, libido set loose with the amounts of alcohol we ended up drinking and hands being braver than they have since that party. Things notching up all evening, heading for a complete hormonal explosion and now we’re back at the apartment, His hands boldly sliding up my thighs and mine opening his shirt buttons, hints at more than a make out session brewing between us and I am all for it. There is no doubt, no confusion about the inner stirrings of my body and the way I am crying out for him to be inside of me.
All night, it’s half the reason I drunk so much; for Dutch courage. My head telling me to just get over this hurdle and give my poor man a girl who actually gives him sex.
He clearly needs it after what I listened to, and I don’t want to be another reason he has a less than satisfied life. All night I just felt fragile and vulnerable, what with Natasha showing up, the way she kept appearing to try and infiltrate our group and making Arrick a little more toned down in his attentiveness, because he doesn’t want to rub it in her face. He let loose when we went to the club and the nights pent up ‘behaving himself and keeping his hands off me’ ended, he made up for it by barely keeping his hands to himself and I loved it.
He sucks on my bottom lip, running his fingers into my hair so he can angle my face again, lifting me up with his other hand, so my legs automatically go around his waist. I have no bearings on where we are going, too busy playing tonsil tennis with his mouth, those perfectly soft lips pressed into mine and he tastes so good. Eyes closed tight and lost to what an amazingly good kisser he is. No matter what way he kisses me, it always feels like this and seems to press all my buttons effortlessly, igniting any response he wants from me. My body is on fire with the aching need to have him all over me, skin tingling and head empty of everything except the need to be joined to him in every way possible.
I giggle when I am dropped on my back on the couch, separated for a second before he is right there on top of me again, nestling between my open legs, hands sliding down my calves and pushing my shoes off for me while he recaptures my mouth. His kissing is more on par with that drunken night, a little hint of real Carrero passion coming through and blood most definitely heating up on his end. I love the little hints into what he can be if his real unleashed side gets to play. It’s obvious he holds back with me, always aware of pushing me too far and yet it’s always there, bubbling under the surface like a hot devil wanting to come out to play.
He moves on top of me slowly, taking his weight on his arms as he slides fully against me, moving to my throat with soft kisses, as his hand grazes my breast through my dress, I close my eyes at the sensual contact. I let my own hands wander over his chest and shoulders, one finding its way down to his hip then over that tight ass, groaning when he nibbles my throat and his pelvis grinds in against me. I can literally feel waves of lust sweeping from him, yet I know he is staying back, still being gentle, overly cautious and it has the same effect as trying to reign in the ocean.
The Carrero Heart_The Journey_Arrick and Sophie Page 21