Pull yourself together, it’s ‘Natasha’ the girl you despise!
‘I’m not really a fan of babies…I don’t know how you do it. I mean, I like my family’s kids, I love them. But I’m not overly fond of little babies and kids in general, I don’t see that happening for me for a long, long time, or even if ever.’ I say matter of factly, my nerves and combined guilt giving me verbal diarrhoea, and Arrick’s insistence on carrying on a conversation with Nathan, making me feel like I should fill the awkward gap between Natasha and I.
‘You sound like him.’ She prods Arrick in the arm and he looks down at us nonplussed.
‘What? What sounds like me?’ He’s obviously caught the tail end of what we are talking about and leans in as she repeats it, to hear her over the thrum of music that’s getting a little louder from the dancefloor below this VIP area.
‘That you don’t seem too hyped about babies in the near future.’ She smiles up at him shyly, eyes not concealing the sheer utter adoration and infatuation she has for him, and yet his face falters.
‘I’m too young for babies, marriage, and all that stuff yet, I have a brother who keeps me in enough kids to keep me more than satisfied, and zero desire to follow him down that path anytime soon.’ He frowns, half smiling, half not, and catches my eye before he looks away. Unreadable, like good old Arry. I notice the crushed expression hit Natasha’s face, and the way blush creeps up her cheeks at how much he has dashed some feeble woman hope in her heart. The sense of sadness that reverberates around the circle from her makes me feel instantly awful. Something inside, that nice part of me, seems to react impulsively.
‘But he will one day… All men say that. Jake was the absolute worst and now look at him.’ I laugh to cover the awkwardness and notice Nathan seems to be peeling his beer label off, shifting from one foot to the other, and I wonder what exactly I am missing, what exactly they have been passing in terms of psychic ‘bro’ messages to one another. Arrick and he pass some sort of look, I only catch it because I know both of them well enough to see the Arry, Nate, mode of ‘communico’ going stealth mode, under the radar, serious man communications, and then he turns to me.
‘I’ll be a few minutes, Nate wants to talk shop. Are you two okay here?’ He looks at us, one after the other. Seems my new mature niceness towards her has wiped out his need to always chaperone our meetings, and I have no desire to be left with this girl, even if I am wussing out on my feelings of repulsion towards her.
I give him a flash of ‘Don’t you dare’ but he frowns back, giving me the pleading look, the ‘do as I ask and I will explain later’ face that he knows I have no defences for. I smart, but I have no choice than to be left with her. Seeing Natasha looking like she is about to burst into a flood of tears makes me hesitate, I scan the women behind her, hoping to god one of her actual friends comes to pull her away, but for now I have no choice.
‘We’ll be fine, just having some girly chat. Maybe compare shoes or something.’ She smiles at him a little too brightly, I guess to cover his complete lack of attention towards her since she walked up and I have to admit. I am wondering what the hell is up with that. He has never really been overly demonstrative with her, when I have been around, but I am getting weird distant vibes from him where she is concerned right now. A part of me should be cartwheeling at that fact, but it’s not. I just feel torn, confused and selfish, and right now with that desolate lost look of shattered hope on her face, I feel actually, really strangely, wrong, about this whole scenario.
We watch them walk off among other people from this crowd, Natasha’s eyes linger longer than mine and when she turns back, her eyes are moisture glazed. It has the same effect as a punch in the gut, knocking me for six with a sharp intake of heavy breath. I am more than shocked at how this hits me and down my drink a little too quickly, in one gulping go.
‘Maybe we should dance?’ I say brightly, hoping that loud music and crushing bodies on the floor will mean no more chatter, and no more of this weak girly shit going on inside of me, for someone who I vowed was my sworn enemy, long ago. I need to get my head together; this mess is sending my sane into non-existent right now.
‘I don’t really dance.’ She mutters awkwardly.
‘I’m not very coordinated.’ Her half smile and downward glance has me putting my glass down on the nearby table bossily. Impulsively acting, drink hitting me fast and making me a little giddy and cheerful.
‘Well that’s just the worst excuse I have ever heard. You can obviously walk; therefore, you have coordination, and the rest is just confidence. Come on… I’ll get you dancing.’ I smile sassily, grab her little soft hand in mine, ignoring how fragile she feels, and yank her with me towards the stairs. Natasha gives no resistance to my pulling, her timid little body no match for my taller and curvier strength; I catch sight of a couple of her friend looks this way, but neither follow and I am left to drag the girl, I thought I hated, with me, to bond over awful dancefloor antics. I have no clue where Sophie has gone and right now, I don’t even care. Dancing is one of my favourite pastimes, and even though deep down, that little voice of guilt is telling me how wrong this is, I actually want to help her forget about her heartbreak for five little minutes of her time here.
You’ve gone soft girl!
* * *
Natasha really cannot dance, it’s so bad, its actually painful, but yet she seems to embrace it like a champ and we end up giggling ridiculously. I try showing her how to shimmy, getting that she just can’t, how to sexy wiggle, which is worse than bad, and even for the life of me, I try showing her how to just sway side to side and fake a dance, each and every attempt is just hopeless. I have never known a woman have so little fluidity to her movements as her, and she seems so prim and proper out there that I have to rescue her before this starts to become embarrassing. I shake my head when it’s clear the new faster beat to the next song is beyond her capabilities and drag her back to the bar above, back into the fold of all Arrick’s friends in a happier mood, strangely light and forgetting everything else for a minute.
When we get back up the stair I notice he’s standing at the bank of windows with Nathan and a couple of other men, they have been watching the floor below, while they chat and drink, meaning he’s most likely been watching me hopelessly trying to teach his girlfriend, not girlfriend, how to dance and his turning our way expectantly, proves he knew we were coming back in here. He smiles our way and I get the weird look he’s giving off at me, hard to miss when you are as homed in on him as I am, aware of his every little gesture
I know what he’s thinking, same thing that hit me as I walked in here with her and she placed a little, innocent, delicate hand, in the crook of my arm, and looked up at me with sheer misguided trust.
This is so fucking wrong.
It felt easier when I hated her.
It was less complicated.
I just feel like I am leading a puppy to the slaughter, and all of this is all so sordid and two faced and that somehow, I am painting myself as some bitch mistress, while the doting wife is innocently oblivious. It’s callous, and just not who I am.
Looking at him now, watching him go from her to me subtly, eyes flickering and confusion over his face, I can already tell what he’s thinking. He’s asking himself if he can really do this to her, he’s asking himself if he’s got it in him to keep hurting her and keep both of us dangling in this weird nothing of grey area. I can tell by the thousands of tiny flickers across the seemingly calm face, that he’s been mulling this over the whole time he has watched us dance.
And then he looks at me again and the expression changes, and so does his train of thought. And I know he’s thinking the same thing as me as his eyes land on how Natasha is clinging desperately to me, like some sort of shield to her pain.
Everything about this is so wrong right now.
Arrick makes a move from his group and heads our way, an intense look of purpose on his face and he seems to avoid my eyes. My hear
t jumps a little, unsure what to read from that little mannerism, knowing nothing good ever comes of him going into evasive manoeuvres. He closes the gap between us quickly, still looking anywhere but at me, and comes to face us both. My stomach lurches with tension, hollow ache of instinct, that I am not going to like this.
‘Natasha, maybe we should go talk over there, alone.’ He looks at her intensely and then throws me a devastating nervous glance, he’s uncomfortable, practically coming off him in swathes and my gut is telling me that he’s making decisions, drunk decisions based on guilt and the last few minutes of whatever this is. Whatever Nathan wanted to talk to him about has flipped a switch, watching her cosy up to me, seeing us have a moment of actual niceness of the dancefloor, and I feel the panic rise inside of me. Natasha slides out of my arm and goes towards him coquettishly, nodding and leaning into say something softly. I don’t react or move, my eyes steady on him and as he dodges my eye contact again, I feel the temper rise.
He’s going back to her.
He’s impulsively trying to make this situation right. His moral code overruling everything in his heart.
I glare his way as he meets mine for a second and then looks away, I can’t even hear what her response is as the bubbling rage of blood bursting through my head is drowning everything else out, and I just lift that chin a little higher. Ache and pain drowning me inside, chest heavy with the sudden weight of how much this hurts and yet I stand my ground. Dry eyed and tight lipped. I won’t let him see that he’s hurting me again.
‘Don’t mind me…. I can amuse myself, plenty of booze, men, and dancing, down there to keep me occupied for the rest of my night.’ I say it steadily, impressed with the ability to keep the emotion out of my voice, but the intent is there. Arrick’s brows furrow as he pulls her away from me by the arm and guides her towards the side of us. Nodding towards the booths and private seating in the far corner. He swallows noticeably, eyes still not able to meet mine for more than seconds, and I see him hesitate, struggling to form words as she takes the hint and moves off without a backwards glance.
Today had been an all too familiar day of us just hanging out, and maybe, instead of telling him that we fit, that we work together, it told him that he should never let it stray from that. The tension on the way here, the flirty looks and definite sexual sizzle had obviously not swayed him. Faced with the girl he doesn’t want to hurt and the magnitude of how wrong it is to see her and I together, has done something to that stupid fucked up Carrero brain and I feel like slapping him. Head over fucking heart, logic prevails, and he wants to shelf everything neatly so that everyone is happy. Everyone except me.
Why does he never think about what this does to me?
‘I just need some time to talk to her, and then I’ll come find you.’ He says it quietly, Natasha is already getting comfy at the seats and giving us space, without even realising we need any.
So stupidly trusting.
I swallow down my pride, already sure I know what it is he is going to talk to her about, already sure I know he has decided to try and claw back what they once had, and I feel that frosty ice queen inside of me rise up; in that good old fucking sanctimonious self defence mechanism of mine. Like shooting myself in the head to prove a fucking point.
Thanks shitty childhood, for making me this way.
‘Don’t bother…. Enjoy your night. I’m pretty sure I’m a big girl who can handle it.’ I turn on my heel and falter when he catches my wrist in his, he moves in behind me closely, so that his body heat touches every part of the back of my body, from heels to top of my head and his breath on my exposed shoulder makes me tingle painfully. I almost fall to pieces at something so nothing. Inside I’m unravelling, breath hitching and tears biting at my eyes painfully.
‘We were never going to work. Not if we have to hurt people to even try this, Sophie. I can’t just throw it all away. We can salvage what we are, it doesn’t need to be a choice of you or her. We can get past this.’
I feel the crushing pain in my stomach rip through at a hundred miles an hour, disappointed that I predicted this, knew what he was thinking from just looks. Tears prickle in my eyes and I bite on my lip hard to curb any sort of noticeable reaction from him. Stronger than this and unwilling to let him break me this way.
Struggling to stay in control and completely devastated by this heart wrenching turn around, I tug myself away from him harshly, yanking my wrist free, to rid myself from his infernal touch on my skin. There are no words right now and I just walk off fast, knowing he can’t follow me while she’s waiting, and taking the chance to slide away into the stairwell, back down to the pumping crowd before I literally fall to pieces.
Chapter 24
I have been down here for the best part of an hour, not as drunk as I want to be, despite downing a few, but I just cannot shake this awful soul-destroying ache in my chest. I don’t let the tears fall, knowing the mess it will make of my face, and just make me look pathetic. Instead I do what I do best, I lift that chin, crush the pain down behind the block of ice that is now lodged in my chest, and swear I will never say his name again
I find some of his friends down here and dance like my feet are burning, paste on my party face and revert to Sophie of the city. Able to function while a black hole overtakes my soul, smiling and acting like nothing phases me. I chat to people I recognise and run into a few faces I know myself, a good little act at being okay while the wall of mirrored glass above my head conceals the man who has pretty much taken another huge dump on my heart.
Pushing through the crowd to make my way to the ladies’ room to cool off, I get into the quieter, closed off hall of the corridor to the bathrooms. Glad of the air and really contemplating just getting a cab home. I have a key card to his apartment and right now, bed is calling me, along with solitude to just put this pain to rest for a while. Gone is the girl who used to use booze as a crutch and mindless overuse of it to get through her woes, I just want to up and leave, like a boring, mature asshole, with a heavy rock in my stomach.
‘Sophie?’ A familiar female voice is suddenly loud in my left ear, close behind me and I turn rapidly, instantly hauled into an over enthusiastic hug by Camilla and almost choke on her sickly perfume when her throat is shoved in my face aggressively. I reel a little at the sudden embrace and totter on my heels when she lets me go again, surprised to see her, or that she’s even acknowledging my existence, considering the bitch has never gotten back to me.
‘Oooh, my god. I can’t believe I ran into you here of all places.’ Camilla gushes at me, clearly drunk, and obviously completely ignorant of her wall of silence until right now. I just look at her blankly, feeling nothing but mild irritation and no real desire to hang around and chat.
‘Camilla.’ I respond drily and push us apart so I can smooth down my dress that she has just messed up with her enthusiasm.
‘I know your upset, I can tell. I’m such a mega bitch for not calling you, but I was soo mad at you, booboo. You up and left after I sorted out a new pad for us, and I have been sulking my tiny little bottom off. I’m such a baby when I’m hurt.’ Camilla leans in, swaying on her shoes dramatically and gets a little too close to my mouth for comfort. I lift my hands to her bust defensively, and stop the ascent of smudged red lips on mine immediately. Suffocated by her behaviour suddenly and just needing space from everyone.
‘Please forgive me for being such a positive bitch, I mean you obviously needed to go, but I was soooo tantrummy. I miss you so much.’ She tugs at my hair with a red talon hand and smiles at me widely, all seduction and Camilla poise lacking while she’s so obviously smashed. Up close, even her immaculate make up is doing nothing to keep the red rimmed look of ‘overdid the champers’ off her face. I don’t feel any of the awe and dazzle I once felt for her anymore, she just looks tired and overdone.
‘Whatever Cam, does it matter? Really?’ I just feel irritated by her, something that has most definitely changed in me of late. I used to not ca
re how drunk people around me were, used to find it amusing, but I guess Arrick is right. You get to a point that this shit just seems old and no longer something you want to deal with. Camilla is grating on me and I just want to leave now, more than ever, and I am already eyeing up an escape route.
‘So you’re not mad at me Sophiebooooo, I couldn’t forgive myself if you were just even a teensy bit mad still.’ Her heavy English accent is even more drawn out and precise in this state, as though she is really trying to keep control of it. She leans in again and this time narrowly misses bumping noses with me, biting on her lip as she focuses on my mouth a little too intensely. It gives me a weird vibe and I push her back once more, this time stepping back to create more space.
‘Look I’m here with people, and I need to go and find my friends. I haven’t been upstairs in a while and they will be worried.’ I try to extricate myself from Camilla’s sudden grasp on my arms, but she is clinging on needily, drawing me back to her with alarming strength.
‘Nooo, just one dance with me dahling booboo, and you have to meet Richard, my new beau in tow. Please diddums, just a little bitty, ittle dance, with your most favourite girl.’ She giggles, apparently an attempt at cute, wiggling her eyebrows at me and pouting seductively. Her weird, snooty, baby language, has me frowning at the spew of childish shit that has just poured out of her mouth and find myself sighing in resignation. Knowing I am not going to get out of this with any peace, unless I relent a little.
‘Okay, but quickly, as I really do have to find someone.’ I lie, I have no intention of looking for him and interrupting his magnificent reunion with his girlfriend upstairs. Right now, for all I care, he can go fuck himself, and her, if he likes, as long as he stays the hell away from me, for maybe the rest of his life.
Camilla lifts my hand over her head and pulls me back to the dancefloor with a little bouncing wiggle, catching time to the music and leading me away from the long row of bathroom doors and back into the noisy bustling club. I glance up at the windows in the air above us absentmindedly, but I can only see that mirrored glass shining back and the reflection of everyone down here. Anger spiking in my heart, at him, and at myself, for being weak enough to even look up, and I just follow her more confidently.
The Carrero Heart_Beginning_Arrick and Sophie Page 36