‘Because you love me, and you know what makes me happy.’ I grin at him smugly when I am comfy and settled, curled up like a kid next to him and ready to find a landing place for my head somewhere on his body.
‘Hmmmmm.’ He frowns back and checks his watch, I hear the faint rumble of his stomach and know he’s checking how long before food gets here. I get that inner creep of guilt once more that he should have eaten by now. Not that it lasts long as I am also starving and pizza has me already watering at the mouth.
‘Don’t deny it. I am like your most ‘favouritest’ person in the whole entire world, even when you’re really mad at me.’ I poke him again and this time he catches my finger and sticks it in his mouth with a completely satisfied look on his face. I squeal in disgust, yank my hand back fast and start wiping his saliva on his shirt in a frenzy of cringe, screwing up my face as he smugly grins at me. He knows how much I hate that, it’s worse than when he sticks his finger in my ear or that one time he licked my face, because I wouldn’t stop mimicking him.
‘You’re disgusting.’ I scold him and slap his shoulder hard enough to get a decent sounding ‘whap’ noise. He remains unmoved and doesn’t even acknowledge it. Mind you, with shoulders like his he probably doesn’t feel pain from girly little attempts of violence.
‘Yet you love me, because I’m like, totally your most ‘favouritest’ person, in the whole entire world.’ He mimics me with a girly voice and fluttering lashes that earns him another poke in the face, although I am quick to get my hands out of the way when he makes a dive for it again.
‘Shut up and let me watch my movie.’ I pout childishly, ignoring the way he watches me with an utterly amused grin on his face. Obviously thinks he’s totally smart and so freaking funny when really, he is about ten shades of annoying as shit at times.
‘Move over then, and lay down so I can get behind you. If I have to watch it then, least give room to go to sleep until food arrives. You can wake me up when it gets here.’ He shoves me so I fall sideways away from him, obediently moving to the front of the couch and spreading out straight so he can slide in at the back of me and mirror my pose. We both roll onto our sides to face the TV as he drapes his arm casually over my waist, pulling up the blanket over me so I’m covered again and he’s not. I feel his breath in the back of my hair as the music starts rolling into the opening scenes and we get comfy in each other’s space, so we roll into one another perfectly. No hint of any sense of fear or invasion, even when he’s spooning me this way.
‘You are.’ He says softly behind my head and I feel myself smile. Knowing he’s answering my statement, even if I did say it in jest. I feel that fluttering smile run across me and the tiny warming sensation in my stomach that happens anytime he’s being genuine.
‘You’re such a loser.’ I respond drily, curbing the urge to laugh. I shove my butt back to hit him in the groin childishly then ‘SHHH’ him when he makes a noise. He just squeezes my waist with his arm and settles down to either sleep or watch this infernal thing.
My movie starts, but the heaviness of my eyelids tells me that I won’t see much of it.
Chapter 3
I wake up with a dry mouth, burning eyes and pounding head as the sound of music assaults my senses. Arrick has music pounding through the god damn floors as I blink awake and realise I am still on the couch, face down and the blanket is wrapped around my legs like freaking restraints. I feel like utter shit and the table is littered with cold pizza and the scraps of a weirdly middle of the night scramble for food. We both ate pizza, fell asleep and woke up at the exactly same time. Well actually, my stretching out and slapping the back of my hand in his face had been the catalyst for his grumpy arise from the dead, and he did try to push me off the couch in retaliation.
We raided the food for munchies, watched another movie for like a half hour while grumpily arguing over absolute pointless crap, because we were both tired, and in my opinion Tom Cruise is far hotter with an Irish accent and boxing gloves than he is in either Top Gun or Cocktail. We both must have fallen back asleep after that, as everything beyond the horse dying in ‘The Never ending story’ is hazy in my head. I can still see the indent on the cushion beside me from his head and the whole couch and I smells like him, I guess he stayed there with me the full night after all.
I groan and look around, seeing him in the kitchen, singing to himself as he makes a fresh pot of coffee. He’s still rumpled and wearing last night’s clothes too so I’m guessing he hasn’t been up for long either.
’Ughhh shut up.’ I yell at him and go back to burying my head under the pillow I have been laying on. Annoyed that I have had like no sleep and he is being his usual happy chirpy morning person self that grates on my nerves. I’m pretty sure he got as little sleep as me and it is way too early for this kind of nonsense.
I swear the music gets louder.
I sit up in rage and glower at him across in the kitchen, catching him smirking my way, remote pointed at the stereo with that childish look of a mean boy. Sometimes I love him to bits and sometimes, like right now, he is a total arse who makes my life a living hell just for the fun of it. I think he gets off on torturing me, because he does it frequently. He turns it back down with a chuckle and turns that full Hollywood smile my way.
Trying to melt me with dazzling smiles is not going to work.
‘Morning beautiful…. Looking a little rough around the gills.’ He nods at me, earning another glare and I immediately set about trying to wipe my eyes awake and tame the hair that is tickling my face. More like welded to my face as I rip a strand off my cheek.
I sit up slowly, stretch out and yawn three times before again rubbing at my face. The grubby residue that ends up on my hands alerts me to the fact I slept in tear stained make up and probably look a little train wreck right now. I groan and get up to go lazily trudging to this room for the nearest bathroom; the spare room is the one I normally get sent too, but his is closer and I am still exhausted.
‘’The walk of a very hungover, grumpy, little miss.’ He jests after me, meeting an extended middle finger thrown back at him without even looking his way. In no way have I ever been a morning person and with an added hangover I can see me choking him with my bare hands, I hear him laugh as I push open his door and go into his immaculate bedroom which is still in darkness from not opening the blinds in here. It’s completely clean and neat with a fully manicured and made bed because he obviously never came in here at all.
I groan at the fright which awaits me in his bathroom mirror. My long blonde hair is bed messy and standing up, tangled crazily due to the natural waves that I straighten out of my hair religiously. My face looks like I have been face painted as a panda then stood in a downpour for shits and giggles to let it run off, and I most definitely have blood shot eyes and a puffy set of bags under both eyes. I look exactly how I feel.
Pushing open his walk-in shower, I turn it on and then go rummaging for towels and his bathrobe and dump all on the vanity by the door. Running a finger along the unit and pop it open to locate some shower products, seeing all of Natasha’s crappy choices of shampoos and shower gels. I select a few and throw them all on the shower floor. I turn to the mirror with another grimace before kicking the bathroom door shut to his bedroom and stripping off. I don’t even bother to lock it, knowing fine well if he hears the shower on he will never walk in.
* * *
Wrapped in his robe and towel drying my hair, I pull open the bathroom door and wander into his room feeling a lot more awake and pulled together, the hazy fogginess of being ripped awake is departing. The soothing grey walls and mix of urban meets modern in his domain is welcoming, scaffold, wood and concrete assorted shelving he had built in here that hold a lot of books and memorabilia spans the one wall by the bed facing me. I smile at the large framed picture close to his bed with Jake his brother. Both smiling back at me affectionately and obviously as close as brothers can get.
It still always awes me that
they can be so different, yet have so many similarities. The face shapes; some of their features are identical, but when set in a different way with a change of hair and eye colour it makes them crazily unalike, like salt and pepper. In build however, they are clearly matched, they both inherited height from Sylvana’s side of the family, maybe width and strength from Giovanni, but all that muscular Adonis like power they both share is most definitely straight out of their Italian roots. I find it hard nowadays to pick out which brother is more capable of beating someone to death. Arrick has a pretty strong lead with being a professional fighter, but Jake helps train him, his forte used to be in mixed martial arts too.
The bed is still neatly made up, in shades of grey and textures; all masculine looking and inviting. I notice my clothes from last night are on the end of the bed, along with my shoes and one of Arrick’s hooded sweaters. He’s left me them here so I can at get dressed into something that fits me and making it clear I am not to walk about without a top on over it. I eyeroll at the obvious brotherly move and slip off the robe unshyly. He’s left the bedroom door shut and would knock if he was planning on coming back in.
I used to keep clothes in his spare room when I stayed here frequently, but last time I left here I cleared them all out. A stupid childish act to just get at him because Natasha had done something to piss me off, like she always does. It was my way of saying ‘Fuck you’ and pretty much moved every single thing I had ever kept here to Ambers apartment. It had been a lot. An array of clothes, toiletries and person effects from the room I used to call mine. I can’t deny that our growing apart this past few months was because of both of us, both shoving and pushing where she was concerned, and I hadn’t helped matters by impulsively storming out of his life anytime I got mad.
I pull my clothes on quickly, using his hairbrush to tame my hair and leave it hanging down my back damply to air dry a little. I at least look clean and fresh, and younger Sophie like this, with that air of sweet child that looks like butter couldn’t melt in my mouth; his sweater keeping me decent and I leave my shoes on his bed. My feet are still suffering, so they can stay there until I get him to take me to Ambers apartment to retrieve all my worldly possessions for that trip home. I feel the stir of nerves and anxiety hit when it comes to mind that it’s what we are doing today and push them down steadily, breathing in slowly to calm the tension inside of me.
Arrick’s sat on the couch looking equally sparkly and clean this morning, I guess he used the shower in the spare room, seeing as I was hogging his and is dressed in a white tee that fits a little too well over black jeans. He has on black socks, but no shoes and is sitting focused on his phone texting while he props his heels on the coffee table, looking like a kid himself like this. He smiles up at me when he sees me.
‘You look better… Less crime scene massacre and more innocent little Sopha’belle.’ He pats the seat next to him and I notice the smoothie on the table beside his coffee. He always used to make me a morning smoothie when I stayed here, he knows I am not a morning coffee drinker in the least and I can tell by the colour that it’s banana and strawberry. My favourite. I beam his way, giddy on all that makes me happy today, now that the shower got me out of my grumpy ass morning mood.
‘Thanks for the ego boost.’ I walk over and slump beside him, pulling at my skirt to cover the expanse of legs on show. I may not be overly tall but for some reason I have always had long legs that seem longer when I wear something short. It makes even moderate length skirts look a little risky on me and I am more aware of the disapproving glance he casts on them.
‘Natasha is coming over to make us breakfast.’ He says flatly and continues texting. Her, I guess. Who else would have him homed in on his phone like a reject and ignoring my sparkling company.
‘Why?’ I pout, that inner annoyance creeping up like it always does when she’s involved. I am liking this new ‘No Natasha’ atmosphere and having him all to myself for once.
‘Because she won’t see me for a few days while I take you home, she never saw me last night at all, and she wants to check on you. Make sure you’re okay, and because she’s sweet and this is something she wants to do.’ Arrick answers me with that edgy tone. The one which screams ‘Yes I know you dislike my girlfriend – live with it’. He carries on with whatever he’s typing, speed tapping like a pro.
I roll my eyes and pull the smoothie forward towards me. Biting down the urge to say something sarcastic in relation to her and think better of it. He has zero sense of humour when it comes to miss starched pants and I have only hostility when it comes to talking about her.
‘Well, hope she can cook pancakes, because that’s what I want.’ I gulp the best smoothie I have had in a long time and smile when I get that creamy after taste. He put an ice cream scoop or two in, just for me. Despite always moaning at me about how much crap I eat and my lack of healthy diet. He really is the ‘bestest’ best friend ever and right now I can forgive him for his diabolical taste in life partners.
‘Yeah, figured you would, so I told her already.’ He is still looking at his phone, typing again and I guess Natasha is a speed responder too. I wonder what they could have to talk about if all they are discussing is pancakes and her inevitable little run over here like a good little puppy. I have a complete urge to snoop over his shoulder and see what lame things the queen of boring has to say, but instead focus on my smoothie and push at the table with a sock clad toe.
‘What’s the plan for today then?’ I nudge his shoulder, annoyed that he’s only half with me and half engrossed in typing. Nudging him again, annoyingly, when he frowns and ignores me, I lift my toe and shove at his foot instead, until he sighs and pauses with the phone tapping.
‘Food. Your place for your stuff, and then a long ass drive home to see our families.’ He looks at me this time, nudges me back with an air of irritation and drops his phone into his lap. Annoyed or not, I still managed to get him to ditch the bitch and give me his full undivided attention, mid text. I know it’s juvenile but I give myself a mental high five that I still have more sway over him than she does. His phone vibrates but he just shifts it to the couch and lays it face down. I lay my drink down too.
‘Why don’t you have a plane, like Jake, at your beck and call to get home a heck of a lot faster than driving?’ I sigh and flop down on my back childishly, not relishing the four-hour journey at all. Even with him as company, it’s crazily long and boring to be sat in a car all that time, with nothing to do or look at and I know he hates constant chatter when he’s concentrating, so usually just sticks the radio on.
‘I do, it’s the family plane, and I happen to prefer driving. Besides, I thought I was your ‘mostest’, ‘bestest’, ‘favouritest’, person ever. Why would you want to shorten the time you spend with me?’ He raises joking brows, smiling wickedly and before I can even defend myself he shoves his finger in my ear. I react in the way I always do, lashing back and cringing like crazy. Aiming my slaps at his face as he expertly swipes them aside and ends up on top of me in the blink of an eye with that crazy speed of his reflexes. He pins me down under his thighs and tucks my wrists under his knees as he straddles me, flat on my back, and laughs down at the extreme pissed expression on my face at his quick manoeuvre. He’s super heavy and doesn’t seem to care if he’s crushing me right now, right into the soft plushness of his couch.
‘Arrriiiickkkk.’ I whine petulantly, unable to move or fight him off and pretty much unable to struggle at all. He just laughs at me and starts poking me in the upper chest mercilessly with harsh jabs just under my collar bone.
‘This is called a typewriter.’ He continues to poke me in the chest then gently shoves my face to the side as though pushing along a type writer roller. Laughing at my curses of outrage. I try to buck and wriggle to no avail, feeling that deep anger rising in me the more he enjoys this.
‘Get off me you freak. You’re a total bully.’ I wiggle some more, trying hard to bounce him up while he continues this to
rture and am met with just a wider smile and that mischievous twinkle in his eye.
‘That won’t work…. Freak? I kinda like that one……I’ll stop on one condition.’ He smirks, holding his hands over me and looking down at me from his straight seated height. He just looks like he is liking his seat of power and dominance a little too much, payback for all my bratty behaviour.
‘Whaaat?’ I gasp in frustration, hating being confined this way and getting madder by the second. Hating that I know he will only keep doing this until I break anyway and I am too hungover for this kind of crap right now. My normally happy giggly response is dead, I am tired, suffering and the asshole made me wake up way before I was ready.
‘When Tash comes, you play nice, nicer than you have ever played. Because I don’t need any drama before we head out and I am in no mood for a Tasha-Sophie squabble scene, under any circumstances. She puts up with a lot of shit for you Soph’s.’ He wiggles his fingers near me and smiles when I struggle some more.
‘Okaaaay, Okay!!’ I wriggle more. Trying to avoid those cruel hands and shaking my head from side to side in futility. Desperate to be free as the overwhelming rage of my claustrophobic self starts rising up. He knows I hate being pinned down, uses it to his advantage in every way, whenever he wants something. He’s a mean dickhead sometimes and I stick my tongue out at him.
‘I’ll cut that off.’ He frowns at me and I can only eyeroll back at him.
‘I agree, I promise…Whatever. God, I’ll even write it in blood if you just get off, me for god’s sake.’ I can barely breathe with the weight of a guy twice my size sitting on me like I am some sort of occasional throw pillow.
‘In blood… Might need to see that.’ He grins again and softly pats my cheek a couple times to emphasise that he has won and worn me down.
‘Good girl. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? ‘ He slides up to release my arms from under him and I take the opportunity to shove him back hard as I yank out my legs from under his, he falls back on the couch, grabbing the back to stop himself from toppling right over and bursts into boyish laughter. Amused that he has made me this fucking mad at him right now.
The Carrero Heart_Beginning_Arrick and Sophie Page 7