It’s only then, I release the loud moaning and groaning noises coming from the TV are people having loud and very detailed sex. The movie I have hit upon seems to be some cheesy porn type flick, that has hit the ground running with an orgy of like six people. I literally freeze and stare straight at the screen in open mouthed mortification and suddenly cannot find the remote at all. Faced with a close up, and personal view, of some lady’s orifice being licked clean by some mutt ugly guy, I feel shame and embarrassment stain my face in complete open-mouthed disbelief.
I start wriggling around, now finally getting his little hint that I should switch the channel, looking desperately for it and realise its slid between the cushions when he landed on the seat. Arrick and I both go for it at the same time and collide facially as I panic scramble, our noses hit, our foreheads too, and there’s a moment of awkward pause as I catch him looking at my mouth like he seriously maybe thought about kissing me then. So many messages translating between us now that were sitting pretty much on top of each other, while scrambling for the remote, and his face is like an inch from me
What the fuck? Dude?
I don’t know even how to react to that and all I can feel are Natasha’s trusting eyes on us as we both act like guilty kids whose mum just caught them dry humping on the couch. I grab it from him as we both catch it, and click on any button my finger hits. Only it’s worse, and it is actual porn this time, with an up close and personal view of some one’s ass being violated by the worlds hugest penis. Arrick has one of those dumb TV’s with internet crap, and buttons for crazy things. It would seem he has a direct link to porn on this damn demon like contraption, that actually surprises me. He didn’t seem like the porn type. I throw him a seriously questioning, if a little accusatory, frown.
‘For the love of god.’ Arrick groans and slides the thing from my hand to try and do some damage limitation, flicking it off whatever crazy menu I have managed to navigate onto and switching to Pulp Fiction instead, a movie favourite. I can literally feel my face flaming with shame. He just raises a brow my way and sort of shrugs unapologetically.
Natasha looks wholly uncomfortable and probably traumatised, not that I blame her, she does look like she is a missionary sort of girl, who only has sex on Sundays. That guys dick had been abnormally huge and that girl’s ass had been like, totally not equipped for that kind of torture. I’m not exactly a prude, but even I am flustered by that little get up and have no idea how to react.
Arrick hands me wine, seemingly intent on pushing us into drink, to cover up whatever the hell just happened and I take it gratefully, unable to meet his face, aware that he has shifted a foot away from me and the heat erupting all over me has me feeling like some wanton whore, who obviously has a porn addiction.
‘Interesting movie choices you have.’ Natasha is still trying to make polite conversation on the most ridiculous of topics, and I literally have to double take her face to see if she’s being serious. I see her trying to curb a smile and can’t help but smile too, impulsively, then laugh, stupidly; like a crazed loon, because the tension inside of me breaking loose makes me feel like I have seriously just lost the plot. As we both burst into giggles I feel Arrick relax too, he chuckles, and then we stop, weird atmosphere abated, and the return to the actual fact that this is the craziest scene of all time. There’s the return of awkward silence and I have no clue what I am even doing here anymore.
‘Maybe I should leave you two alone.’ I interject and make a move, but it’s Arrick’s concealed grab on my hand that halts me. I throw him a look and see nothing in his expression. He looks completely dead pan, like he hasn’t even just stopped me from getting up, and then he smiles across the top of me, at her. I’m seriously confused by what he’s doing. I feel like one of those dumb kids in school who miss out on all the in jokes the popular kids throw around, and yet try to act like they know what the hell is going on.
‘We should go, Natasha.‘ He smiles at her and it just makes me feel suddenly sick to my stomach, confusion written all over me. Natasha looks instantly wary, like she thinks he is about to throw her out and that tearful look she gets in her eye obviously affects him, because I see that subtle jaw tense tell of his that he feels shitty.
‘We could go for a drink and maybe talk somewhere else.’ He looks right at her, like I’m not even here and I can’t help but see that adoring puppy dog look she has for him shining through, melting visibly in front of me, because Arrick has offered her a lifeline. I shove him back out of my way aggressively, curbing the urge to glare in his face and slide up, getting out from between them harshly and almost unable to curb the jealous pang of pain that just punched me in the gut.
‘I’m going for a shower anyway…So knock yourself out.’ I snap and spill my overly full glass of red wine all down my clothes stupidly. I avoid his eyes on me, even though I can feel them burning into my face.
‘Shit.’ I lay it on the table and make a grab for the towel that’s been sitting on the table all day, for no apparent reason, pretty sure it was me who left it here and start dabbing it off my prized dress. Arrick’s on his feet and grabbing the towel to help me, almost in my face and I realise he’s trying to translate some sort of look at me. Silent messages of some sort and I lose my temper instantly. Sick of whatever this is and snap at him.
‘I can do it. Just go out and go do whatever you’re going to fucking do, with your girlfriend.’ I pull the towel fully from him, turn on my heel and storm into the nearest room, heading for a sink. Except it happens to be his room, and not mine, and I just feel like tonight I am seriously a contender for complete moron of the century. I head straight for his bathroom and start sponging the red mess from my clothes hopelessly. It’s only a few shades darker than my dress, but it will stain and be like a permanent scar. I love this dress, it cost me half my allowance and I don’t want it to go to ruin with a stupid spillage of wine.
‘Take it off and I’ll soak it.’ Natasha’s voice behind me startles me. She comes in and holds out her hand expectedly, like a bossy mother with a no-nonsense tone; the impulse to tell her where to go evades me, and I find myself pulling off my dress by shimmying out of it expertly and handing it to her instead. Un-shy about standing in my new Victoria secret two piece of sexy lace lingerie, and definitely not caring if I am standing here like a swimwear model, watching her warily and wondering why the hell she followed me in here at all; why tonight she seems to be all over my ass. She moves by me and starts filling the sink with cold water, squirting a little of the hand wash into it and swirling it around.
‘If we soak it out then it shouldn’t stain.’ She smiles up at me, nothing in her expression to suggest anything at all that is out of the ordinary, other than my behaviour. I stand in my underwear and bare feet and watch her, not sure what else to do, and feeling like maybe I am in the throes of the weirdest day of my life.
‘I’m sure I could have done it myself.’ I add and then see her pause; a tear fills her eye and she looks at me in the mirror of the vanity for a moment. I am like a deer caught in the headlights and have no choice but to meet her eyes. That unexpected reaction thaws my ice a little, a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach making the cool attitude of my façade soften guiltily.
‘You’re his best friend.’ She sighs, and my heart pounds instantly through my chest. I falter and for a moment, wonder if she has guessed what this even is. Hold my breath.
‘I know he tells you everything.’ She carries on as a tear rolls down her cheek painfully; I stand dumbfounded, looking around in hope that he too will wander in here and save me from whatever this is, but he seems to be staying away.
‘Not everything.’ I reply stiltedly. Not sure what else to say, or what to do. I don’t even know if this is how murdering a side chick begins, a sane person washing out your clothes, who then turns the nail file into a fatal weapon in a moment of broken hearted fury. I really have no clue if I should be running right now.
‘Has he said
anything to you about why he’s doing this? Why he’s suddenly so confused about what we are?’ She looks directly at me this time, so much pain and sadness in her face that it actually halts the breath in my chest, to the point of being unable to inhale and I literally have no response. I never liked her, never cared, but right now while she’s looking at me like that, asking me this. I feel nothing but a huge pit of shameful guilt hitting me hard.
‘I….I…’ My palms get sweaty and I lose the ability to talk. Nerves overtaking me, a ball of heavy pain consuming my innards.
‘Of course you can’t tell me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask you, I shouldn’t put you in that position. I’m sorry Sophie. I’m just going out of my mind and feeling like every second I am losing more of him. I just don’t know what else to do. I love him so much.’ She begins to cry softly, her mascara running down her face and I feel my own eyes fill with tears in some knee jerk reaction to a girl in pain. I can practically hear that devil on my shoulder poking me in the face and repeating the word ‘GUILTY’ over and over.
‘He still loves you.’ I croak painfully, knowing it’s not a lie, even if it hurts me. I don’t even know why I feel like I should console her in some way. Maybe it’s the devastated way she is sobbing into the sink, while scrubbing my dress and looking like the most pitiful being I have ever encountered. It really would be like stabbing a kitten with a hot poker right now, I have a little humanity in me, even for her.
‘I know he does… He told me he does… But I don’t know if he’s still in love with me. I think there is maybe someone else.’ She looks my way again and the sheer trusting ache in those pleading eyes tells me that she truly does not look at me and see a threat. She has no idea that he could look that way at me, and it only kills me more. I feel my throat dry up, my body gets clammy and my skin cools as blood drains from me. I stammer, clear my throat to get a grip on my voice and then a deep breath.
‘Have you asked him?’ I force out, gulping hard, trying to evade this conversation, yet caught in it with no chance of escape. She shakes her head sadly.
‘I’m too terrified that the answer might be yes… And then what will I do? I’ll die without him.’ She sobs some more and I feel myself willing like crazy for him to come and save me from this conversation. I have no idea what to say or how to act. It’s like she has pinned me into a corner, where every answer could potentially open the trap door beneath my feet, with one wrong word.
‘Maybe you two are just not really happy together…Or working as well as you think?’ I am trying so hard to be diplomatic, look for a way out of this, but now standing in my bra I have no way of escape. I can hardly walk out there like this, while she’s here. She would wonder how many times he’s seen me in my underwear for a start, question the innocence in that. If I stay in here she’s going to keep on with this excruciating conversation and I feel myself start to get anxious, sweating buckets and breathing shallowly, to the point I may actually have a panic attack.
‘We were happy…I mean, maybe he wasn’t ready for me to move in, and he avoids marriage and kid talks, like the plague. But we were happy and content. I don’t understand what changed.’ She pulls my dress out of the sink absentmindedly and starts wringing it out, inspecting it for left over traces of red wine and regards it blankly for a moment.
‘I don’t know what to do…Tell me what to do.’ She turns to me with make up running down her face, tears streaming uncontrollably and I just open my mouth and falter. Nothing comes out, nothing but breathless panic and complete awkward guilt. I feel my stomach turn over as knots and lurching commence, grasping at air to find something to say.
I sigh with complete relief when I hear the chap on the bedroom outer door.
‘Natasha? Sophie? Are you in here?’ Arrick moves into the room warily, I wonder where the hell he has been and see he’s carrying a clean dress for me, through the open door. Looking down I remember I am seriously indecent and standing in the open bathroom in his full line of view from here. His eyes stop on me, startled for a second as he takes in the extremely skimpy and maybe a little see through attire, I grab for a towel and use it to shield what he has already seen, as Natasha makes a panicked attempt at fixing the mess on her face and dumping my dress back in the sink. Arrick turns around so he has his back to us and seems to be messing with the dress in his hand, more than a little rattled.
‘I need a minute.’ She cries out in alarm and goes to shut the door, with me stuck in here with her.
‘He has clothes for me.’ I grab at the door in sheer panic, a half smile on my face and cheeks flushed as though to say ‘sorry, I need clothes’. Edging out to try and escape, but she catches my wrist and pulls me back sharply to meet her eyes.
‘Please don’t say anything to him, don’t tell him I talked to you.’ She whispers in my face, and I get an up close and personal view of dark brown eyes, smudgy make up and real pain pouring down her streaky cheeks. I shake my head, frowning as I do so and slide out as quickly as I can, without losing the towel in the process. I snatch my dress from him without looking his way, aware that the back of me is still on full view and more than aware that his eyes are following me out the door. I make to high tail it out of there for my room and start pulling on the dress, over my head, as I fast pace through the lounge towards my own room, throwing the towel aside, unaware he’s close on my heels until I feel his hand catch my wrist and stop me at my door.
‘I went to get you clothes… What did you say to her?’ He looks nervous, maybe even a little bit stressed out, can’t help but notice how his eyes keep flicking up and down me as though he has a mental picture he can’t shake, and I have no more will power left in me. I’m tired and feeling all messed up from being cornered by a tearful broken woman, and I just stare back at him numbly.
‘Nothing. She just wanted to help me get the wine out…She’s crying, over you. Maybe you should go see her, and I don’t know…… Do whatever you do to make her feel better.’ I say it bitterly, but I mean it. Natasha’s unannounced invasion into the bathroom has my head all upside down and messed up about how I feel about her in this moment. I guess I feel sorry for her, and right now, the thought of her sobbing in the bathroom, over what I am the cause of, has me feeling like a complete heartless bitch. I never asked for any of this.
Arrick’s eyes fall on mine steadily, trying to read something in my face I guess, and for once he seems at a loss. At least his eyes are back on my face and not sizing me up like he is clearly trying to picture me back in my underwear, like a typical man. I don’t even know what to do with that at all, I thought it would feel better than this.
‘I’m going to take her home and maybe spend some time with her. I need to talk to her properly.’ He seems to wait for me to give him some sort of permission or to raise an objection, but I have already crawled back into little Sophie mode. Recoiling inside myself and presenting an emotionless blank wall to the world, hiding behind with my pain and tears and letting no one see it.
‘Whatever. I’m going to have a shower and go to bed.’ I answer flatly, pulling my hand out of his as I turn and walk the last few feet into the room and shut the door in his face. My heart is completely torn and for the first time I really get an inkling of why this is so hard for him.
I got a glimpse of what he is dealing with, and I don’t even care about her. He loves her, in some way, maybe he is in love with her still, and I am just a bump in the road or a case of the grass is greener. I don’t know. All I know is that Natasha really loves him and it’s obvious that whether I want him to or not, he cares about her a lot more than I really give him credit for.
Chapter 21
I spend the morning filling out applications and emailing Jake’s assistant back, over apartments she has sent me to look over. Choosing a couple that I think look nice and tell her to set me up viewings for as soon as possible. One of them is small, close to the school and looks kind of cosy and easy to maintain. My instant gut reaction to the pictures w
as that it was more than a possibility.
Arrick came back so late last night that I didn’t even hear him come home, sound asleep and oblivious to what time he did come back, after tossing and turning myself into unconsciousness. I don’t want to know anything about where they were, what was said or what they did. I don’t even want to know what time he showed up, because my mind will probably only point in directions that kill me, about what they could have been doing half the night at her apartment. I am so not able to cope with that kind of agony nowadays, somehow knowing they did that stuff in the past was more manageable. I could ignore it, but now, I think I may actually cry myself to death if he admits that is what he’s been doing all night.
He must have got up before six this morning, for the gym, or to meet his trainer, as he was gone before I surfaced, but signs that he has been here are all over the place. His clothes in the laundry, dishes in the sink from making a smoothie and his bed is all messed up too, not that I went in there to check, just that his door was open when I got up, and I couldn’t help but see.
I assume he’s at the gym or with his trainer still, seeing as it’s now after ten and there is literally no sign of him yet. I thought about calling his cell but really, what point is there? It’s not like I need him to tell me where he is, or see him right now. I have no reason to want to know. Well except that I do…but it’s not my right. He has his own life, he doesn’t answer to me or even need too. He doesn’t even need to tell me if he did have sex with her after all, it’s only my heart that makes me feel like he should. Not his.
I throw my notebook aside, the one I have been doodling dresses in, between answering emails and watching daytime TV listlessly. I feel restless and unsettled and even the arrival of his housekeeper at eight am, for an hour, had done little too amuse me. The woman barely spoke, she nodded and smiled, gave me some pancakes as she left and then that was it. House back to immaculate, beds made, laundry gone, as though he was never home and I am sat like a third wheel in his empty apartment, driving myself crazy with tormenting thoughts about him banging Natasha.
The Carrero Heart_Beginning_Arrick and Sophie Page 32