‘You decent? I’m coming back.’ He waits a second, until I reply with an ‘uhuh’ before coming back to join me on the comfy seating. His couch is nestled in front of a long low rustic table and each side is flanked by overstuffed aged leather armchairs. The whole wall between his two-bedroom doors houses a large rustic wooden built in that holds all his technology and even a huge gas fireplace below his massive tv screen; the perfect place to sit and chill. Perfectly male, yet somehow cosy and homely.
I have always loved this apartment; it’s not crazily huge and overly opulent, yet it is spacious and has a lot of room to spread out. Arrick tends to like simpler things in life. Less inflated than his father and brother and tends to go for low key, understated; although this place probably still costs him an arm and leg to rent or even is he has bought it by now. No one would know by the sort of masculine, urban loft apartment, that he is worth billions as joint heir to his family’s corporation. Joint partner in so many ventures and earning his own income too. Arrick would never need to work in his life again if he chose not to, because he could afford to pretty much never do anything except party or relax. I like the fact that he chooses to though, chooses to be a mere mortal guy you could walk by in the street without even realising; except that he’s hot. You wouldn’t walk by if you were a hot-blooded woman, or a gay dude, without noticing him, even I can appreciate that.
‘Machine takes like twenty minutes.’ He slides down, lifting my legs so he can sit down and pulls them back on top of his lap, automatically going to massage my sore feet for me with strong hot hands that feel divine. Arrick gives the best foot rubs in the history of all that is holy, he always did. He has the magic hands of a sorcerer when it comes to all kinds of rubs, his shoulder rub is about the only thing in the world that can send me to sleep in under a minute. If it didn’t weird him out so much, I would happily strip naked and let him massage every square inch of me until I was out cold and snoring; he just has those strong man hands that are made for either manual labour or really good full body massages. I told him once that he could get a job in a spa if the business ever went tits up and he found himself penniless.
‘I think I might just sleep here.’ I sigh heavily, completely homed in on what he’s doing, relaxing fully to that trained manipulation of muscles that feels insanely good. Every nerve ending in my body is waking up to the sensations from my feet. I can relax in feeling completely content right now, no crazy empty feelings or anxious desperate pangs. Just silence.
‘We agreed to talk some more before you go to bed, that’s what we’re going to do.’ He slaps my ass, stinging enough to get a flinch, as though to wake me up.
‘Turn over, I wanna see you when I’m talking to you.’ He commands and I do so obediently, rolling over to flop on my back instead, using the cushion under my head so I can regard him lazily and nudge at him in the chest with my foot, to remind him of what he had expertly been doing. He goes back to rubbing my feet with a smile and a noticeable sigh, running a thumb in the ditch under my toes sensually and makes me giggle.
‘I forgot how good you were at that.’ I smile at him innocently, wiggling my toes so he will do it again, he shakes his head with that cute half smile that sends him into dimple overload and does it again, only this time so much more slowly to tickle me more. I curl my feet in response and tense up. Laughing when he tries to uncurl my toes to set his thumb free again.
‘I forgot what time alone with you was like.’ He frowns at me for a moment and sighs,
‘Forgot how you can be when you sober up.’ He looks more wistfully at me this time and then returns to moving his thumbs into the arch of my foot with some pressure. A serious expression on that handsome face and I get the inner guilt thing going off again. Hating that he is even thinking this way.
‘Yeah well, get used to seeing more of sober me. I’m so done with this existence…. I just want to feel normal again.’ I lift another scatter cushion and pull it onto my chest, playing with the zip in an effort to get more comfortable and conceal braless obviousness. Arrick continues frowning at my feet, seemingly intent on removing the burning pain I have been experiencing and really getting the knots out.
‘Are you hungry? I’m starving; I was supposed to be at dinner right now, a late one with Tasha.’ He glances my way, catches my eye and cutely furrows his brows at me.
‘’I’m sorry. You can still go and leave me here, I promise I’ll just go to bed while you salvage your dinner plans. Go! ..... I mean it.’ I look at him warily, watching the lack of change in his expression, just intent on what he’s doing and he shrugs with one shoulder as if to dismiss my suggestion. I feel worse than bad knowing he ruined his whole night to come scrape me off a club floor again.
‘I can call us a pizza, or something. What do you fancy?’ He completely blanks my suggestion about leaving me here, and I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want to go, or if he thinks I can’t be trusted, and the second he leaves I will high tail it back to a nightclub. I watch his face for a second to analyse which it may be and see only the calm relaxed response of a dude who is happy where he is right now.
‘Pizza sounds good right now, peperoni, no anchovies.’ I lift my foot and try to nudge him with my toe but he just catches my ankle and lifts my leg a little too high to be comfortable, pokes me in the back of my knee so I flinch. It has the same effect as full on tickle and I yank my leg back in reaction with a jerk and an impulse to hit at him with the cushion I am holding.
‘Pizza it is. Any other requests before I call for a delivery?’ He pulls my legs off his lap and pushes them to the floor in an easy movement, so I have no choice but to sit up. He slides forward and pulls his phone from somewhere down beside his butt, maybe his pocket, and seems intent on scrolling his contacts. Knowing him, he has every fast food joint saved in a twenty-mile radius. When he’s not on a super tight eating regime, Arrick likes to pig out as much as me. We could be crowned queen and king of take out, much to Natasha’s annoyance. She is always so freaking picky about his health regime and often calls me a bad influence on his lack of self-discipline, when really, he should be cutting pounds to stay in his weight class of competing.
‘Only that it’s supersized and hurries up.’ I smile, leaning in so my shoulder is against his and lay my head defeatedly on his shoulder. I just feel like closing my eyes and drifting off, but I know he’s serious about continuing the conversation from the car, and right now I don’t want to put him back in a closed off and distant mood over this. We hadn’t said much on the last leg of the journey here, he left me alone with my thoughts, to fully compose myself on that few minutes’ drive back here.
Arrick calls and places an order for a supersize pepperoni and cheese, side of coke and some fries, leaving his address and puts the phone on the table in front of him when he’s done. He stays leaning forward though, so I can stay how I am, sliding an arm through his and around that muscular upper mass and cuddling in more. He leans in towards me too and kisses me on top of the head affectionately, staying a moment as though pondering something and just breathing slowly.
‘So, guess we should get to the point and work this out.’ He sighs heavily, keeping his chin against my forehead and I can’t help but move it a little to rub against the slight stubble coming through. An automatic reaction to a familiar embrace. He likes the clean-shaven look and being fair haired means he never really gets that dark shadow of stubble, but I can feel it, under the surface, and I like how it grazes against me.
‘You said you want to take me back home. I said yes. What else is there to talk about?’ I sigh. I feel like there is nothing more I can add to what was said before, I can’t explain why I feel the way I do, and right now, sitting here with him. I don’t even feel that way right now. I just feel calm and tired and unusually okay for once. I feel the tiny tensing of his muscle under my arms, a hint that he is trying to pick the right words before saying something and ruining this.
‘Do you need help to stop dr
inking Sophie? Is there more than alcohol that I should be concerned about?’ He tilts his head down to mine so he can look me in the eye, I stay put, just letting my gaze wander to his and look back confidently. Nothing to hide so I have no qualms about meeting his eyes dead on and locking focus.
‘I don’t have a drinking problem. You can calm your worry pants on that front. And I have never…NEVER done drugs. You know how I feel about them.’ I say it calmly, honestly and watch him take it in. He seems to relax a little, appraising my face.
‘I still need to ask. I need to know Soph’s. For months I haven’t seen you sober. I don’t know how often you drink, or if maybe partly you do because you can’t stop. I need you to be honest with me.’ There is no anger in his voice, his soft almost normal tone, urging me to open up and I shake my head lightly at him, moving my head from his shoulder to do so.
‘I can handle not drinking. I’m not that bad. I drink to party, but I have gone days without it. I don’t think about reaching for a bottle when I’m sober or just chilling through the day, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ I frown at him, relaxing when I see that tiny smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. A neon sign that he believes me. It’s not like I’m lying, I know I can walk away from a bottle of vodka and not touch it again if I want too. Alcohol isn’t the issue, it’s my own head and heart that is, and this constant bed fellow of deep loneliness.
‘Is this because of your past? Is all of this delayed reaction to what he did?’ Arrick frowns at me, a tremor to his voice that betrays his emotions where that whole mess is concerned. Sometimes I think my past affects him more than it affects me still. He hates bringing it up, hates knowing that I lived through fourteen years of it and the look of pain on his face tells me it’s still as raw for him to process, even now. I couldn’t love him more if I tried and the heart-warming ache seeing this on him it gives me, softens me more.
‘No, I don’t think so. I still obviously have things about me that are because of that, but no….. it’s not part of this.’ I answer truthfully. Arrick slides his hand over my fingers on his arm and cups his around and between them, holding my hand, he pulls it up so he can splay my palm and kisses me in the centre of it gently. Pushing my hand down onto his leg, still encircled in his. He sighs heavily and brings his eyes back to mine
‘You need to stop all of it, you know, right? If this is going to change, then going home, sobering up and staying that way for a while, is what you need to do. This won’t work unless you can get your head screwed back on, none of this will help you.’ He’s in paternal mode, looking at me in that understanding, yet bossy way, and I feel myself nodding in agreement, knowing that everything he is saying is true. A conclusion I already came to on my own and tonight really was just the final straw. Terry had been the last one in a long line of disappointments, red flags that I was just living in a repetitive cycle and going nowhere fast.
‘I’m really at the end of this road… I mean it. This is not how I want to be anymore, I’m done.’ I say it with fervour, looking him dead in the eye. Arrick leans in so we’re closer, nose to nose and focuses those calm hazel eyes on my blue ones with a look of lightness.
‘I believe you. I know you. Stubborn and head strong and sometimes stupidly impulsive… But when you make a decision Sophie, it is pretty hard to sway you at all. If you are telling me that this ends, here, tonight. That you want to go home and sort yourself out, then I’m with you. I believe you. I know you would never tell me just what I want to hear.’ He looks across my face, letting go of my hand so he can brush my hair back and tucks it behind my ear tenderly, still close enough to breathe me in and I impulsively lean my head back against his shoulder.
‘I’m tired. I just want to think about one step at a time and let it all go. Let the pieces start falling into place tomorrow.’ I sigh pleadingly, fully fatigued as waves of exhaustion flow over me to remind me how dead on my feet I am, curling up my legs under me to get comfy.
‘How about we just make like we used too?…. Pizza and a movie and chill on the couch for the rest of the night. No talking about this until the drive tomorrow… Just you and me. Batman and Robin! ‘ He slides his arm out of mine and around my shoulders instead, hugging me tight before getting up and leaving me on the seat to flop back against the back. He walks around the back of it and heads towards the coffee machine in the kitchen.
‘I like your way of thinking but I get to pick the movie.’ I smile to myself, turning on the seat to use the back rest as a chin prop instead, staring at his strong wide back, watching as he kicks off his shoes in the kitchen and pushes them under his breakfast bar with a foot. He throws me a pained expression.
‘Unicorns are out! …. Chick flicks are a maybe, as long as there is at least comedy, but no full on soppy bull. I don’t think I can handle you crying your eyes out to another Channing Tatum movie while I have to sit and endure it.’ Arrick pours us coffee, despite the machine not being finished and the smell fills the whole open plan space warmly.
‘His wife lost all memory of even knowing him…. How did that not make you cry? It’s like if I woke up tomorrow and didn’t even know who you were. You would be desolate without my adoration!’ I respond in outrage at his very clear inability to empathise with real tragedy. Arrick turns with a smile, that hint of sarcasm in those wicked eyes.
‘Remind me what would be bad about that!’ He smirks, obviously pleased with his witty come back, even when I attempt throwing a cushion across at him that barely reaches the entrance to the kitchen space.
‘Asshole.’ I pout, full blown child mood making an appearance.
‘Brat.’ He responds in kind, with that usual title for me when we are being passively aggressive in our behaviour towards one another. I narrow my ass threateningly and then sigh it away as I run a movie itinerary through my skull.
‘Okay, what about The Princess Bride?’ I blink at him hopefully, my love of retro classics is my only weakness, besides shoes, and clothes that is…. and besides sugar, and junk food. So, I maybe have a lot of vices besides old movies; shoot me.
‘You do know you are not an eighties kid, right? That your weird love of crazily old movies for someone so young is abnormal?’ Arrick walks back to me carrying hot mugs and I turn to follow his progress when he gets back round beside me, moving to let him sit down and then curling back up close to him when he slides back and runs his arm along the back of the chair over my head, so I pretty much have his armpit in my face. It’s just as well he always smells good.
‘I hung about with an old man through my most important developmental years and he must have rubbed off on me.’ I throw back deadpan at his face, meeting with a palm in the face which squashes my nose as he smears what’s left of my make up further down with the motion.
‘Hey!’ I slap it away, that annoying person he can be starting to come out now all the emotional serious stuff is out of the way. This is the real him that I miss. That infuriating brother figure, annoyingly immature at times, despite his whole overall MR Mature persona. That dude who holds me down and tickles me to death until I yield, the one who opened my world to a whole host of annoying behaviours and practical jokes at my expense.
‘Less of the old….. I happen to not even be in my prime yet.’ He settles back and lifts his mug with his free hand before returning to the arm pit in the face pose, taking a drink of coffee, I know will be like tar. He takes his black, super strong and with no sugar; pretty disgusting if you ask me. I like mine with cream and sweet, and he always makes it perfectly.
‘Still getting on in years, soon be losing this and developing a man podge and wearing house slippers.’ I pat his very firm and toned flat abdomen in jest with a raised brow of knowingness.
‘You’re only five and a bit years younger than me, shorty. Pretty sure the slippers and the food baby will happen to you long before it happens to me, seeing as you’re the one with a sugar addiction and an allergy to the gym.’ He slides his mug back down, picks
up the remote and starts scrolling Netflix. Focused on the screen as he fast scans a whole list of ‘favourites’.
‘I don’t need a gym, this is all natural.’ I kneel up and lean back, pushing out my poor attempt at a belly and rub it heartily. I have always been pretty lucky that I have an athletic shape and fast metabolism, despite having a decent set of breasts on me, I have a pretty toned boyish body with a little extra curve on the ass. I guess all that dancing in high shoes and walking around the city everyday has some perks.
Arrick looks up at me as I now tower over him with a flat expression, and prods me in the stomach. I flinch and collapse back down with an ‘ooft’ noise and shove him in the shoulder in outrage. Focusing on the screen and list of movie icons the same way he is again.
‘Okay…. I can tolerate either ‘The Dark Crystal’ or ‘Robin Hood, Men in Tights’. You choose.’ He eyes me seriously, picking two movies saved to his TV because of me, from the list he has labelled ‘Sophie’s Crap’. I frown at the new caption on the list and throw him an ‘I am not amused by that’ look that is met with a smirk and a shrug.
‘Don’t even pretend that you’re not really angling for ‘The Dark Crystal’? We both know it’s secretly your favourite movie of all time!’ I prod him in the cheek childishly, right in the place his dimple always appears, perfect bullseye and meet only a serious flat expression.
‘Why do I even do this shit for you?’ He sighs heavily and picks the movie, pressing a button with the remote held up, before throwing it down on the couch next to him and reaching for a folded throw. He hands me the blanket and helps me spread it around myself, over my legs and feet.
The Carrero Heart_Beginning_Arrick and Sophie Page 6