The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

Chapter 82

The day rolls by in an oddly familiar way. Arrick reappears after lunch when he hears the buzzer from the food place I ordered from, and I guess the smell of it, considering he eats like a horse and is always hungry. I’ve been sensible for once and picked an organic food deli that does salad and wholesome food spreads, knowing he’s still supposed to be on a strict eating regime and lately he’s been eating really badly, mostly because of me. I really can’t cook, so my attempts at making him anything ‘Tasha’ style would probably result in food poisoning or a serious bout of indigestion at the least. I know my limits, and making food is definitely not one of my skills. I also let him off with the sundae search, feeling guilty that he’d be breaking a food rule just for me.

We play Xbox for two hours, fight over games, controls, and squabble over the fact he’s a huge cheat who never lets me win at anything. I make him eat pillow a few times, and then he sits on me because he cannot have a girl beat him at mortal combat type games as it hurts his male ego. I swear he reverts to a ten year old kid when he thinks there’s a chance of losing at Mario Kart, and being smothered for daring to pass him ends up with me throwing the controller at his head, Sophie tantrum style.

We dump the game and opt for a movie to relax, which is another argument, seeing as I want to watch ‘The Labyrinth’ and he wants to watch ‘Die hard’ because he is clearly a man who has a fetish for action movies and not in touch with his inner child or feminine side at all. I win … I always win at movie time! Arrick just has to listen to me huff and whine for like thirty seconds about how much he is ruining my life by denying me the pleasure of ‘The Labyrinth’ and he always caves. Still got that little puppy wrapped around my ‘little Sophie’ fingers it seems.

So, we watch it, with a huge bowl of sticky popcorn, which really cancels out the healthy lunch I got him, and way too many cokes for a guy on a junk food ban. I swear, maybe I’m a seriously bad influence on him as all he ever eats when Tasha is around is strictly what’s on his diet list on the refrigerator. She takes immense pride in mothering him and making disgusting high protein ‘healthy’ food and snacks, while I obviously do not care enough. I pretty much rely on him making his own food

choices, expecting him to take care of feeding me, and not vice versa. Maybe that’s something I should change, if I want him to think I might be worth more than just a sidekick.

The movie is nice though, laid out together on the couch. We end up cuddling up, no awkwardness or me getting all weirded out for once about it, and just seeing it for what it is; us of old. Me in his arm with my head on his chest as, he rests his feet on the coffee table, and we share the bowl on his lap in complete silence. We have the blackout blinds down and the whole apartment in darkness.

A couple of hours companionable quiet, as the guy who didn’t want to watch my ‘cheesy, shitty, girl flick’ is seriously engrossed and even chuckles along at the funny parts.

It’s been a normal ‘Sophs and Arry’ of old day. Like we’ve put everything aside for just a few short hours with a silent agreement, returned to some sense of us and gave ourselves a break from the reality of our mess for a while. I needed it; I guess he did too, judging by how much of a great mood he’s been in all day.

***

“You ready yet, brat?” Arrick knocks on my door, not waiting for a response as he saunters in, dressed in a navy button down and sexy jeans. He looks every bit the rich playboy like this, and the color of the shirt seems to enhance his own natural coloring. He has his leather jacket in one hand. I admit, I give him a second look and have to stop the panty combusting wave of ‘oooh’ that hits me out of nowhere. I really need to get a hold on what this boy makes me feel nowadays, I cannot keep having these crazy hormonal reactions to him if I’m to survive in his presence. NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

“I can’t pick a dress.” I frown his way; hair and makeup already done and sexy underwear in place. I’m draped in a robe and fiddling with the ties while I stare at the sea of dresses I’ve pulled out and hung up along the wardrobes. It looks like a new season collection of cocktail dresses, and I cannot choose.

“Any of these, they’re all pretty and you would look good in a sack, Sophs.” Arrick meanders along the line of dresses, picking one up and turning it around to see what the back is like; he puts it back when he sees just how low it’s cut at the rear. Risky low and maybe a little obscene if you don’t wear matching underwear. I stifle a giggle at the look of disapproval that crosses his face. He shoves aside two more and then turns to the wardrobe and opens the door where I have a couple more hanging.

“What are you doing?” I watch him lazily, standing with one foot on top of the other in my bare feet, like a child. Relaxed with him again. After our day together I feel more like we used to.

“Taking away your choice and looking for a dress.” He pulls out a black one and does the same thing, turns it to check the back, holds it out in my direction and squints with one eye to picture it on me. I can only guess he is visualizing if it’s too short or not. Sometimes he’s worse than my dad, and I shake an indulgent head at him.

“You do realize, I’m allowed to expose a little skin? It can still be classy with some on show you know.” I point out, moving past him to hook the plum dress he bypassed twice, and hold it against me while I turn to the long wall mirror to my side. He looks me over in the reflection, face taking on that deadpan expression of his.

“I have no issue with you dressing in any of these, but I’m still trying to get used to the fact it’s okay to see you dressed in any of these.” He throws me a grimace that is both endearing and yet frustrating; that look that just reminds me he is one confused cookie.

“That’s lame.” I retort, breaking into a smile because he does too. Somehow killing that tiny tension which has arisen. He nods at the one I’m still holding.

“That one... It’s sexy yet cute, and the color goes with the dark hair.” His eyes run over my locks and I catch that little twinge again. He’s done this like fifty times today and admitted to me more than once that he likes my hair, but he really hates it dark. I guess I look a little too Natasha’esque like this, and

maybe the fact Arrick has dated a lot of blondes in the past is a sign he swings more to my natural hair color.

Good to know.

“Out. If you want me ready fast, then move, so I can strip.” I pull mauve shoes from the space under the bed, with high black heels that are a couple of shades darker than my dress, but I think they’ll work.

“That’s supposed to encourage me to leave?” Arrick grins at me as I straighten back up to face him, cheeky and suggestive with an eyebrow raise. That teen Carrero on display with his good mood still bubbling around. It wasn’t unknown for him to make jokey sexual innuendos in the past, but we have been missing them since this whole messy love thing came between us.

“Stay if you want, but you’re the one trying to stay platonic with everyone.” I throw back with a raised brow and sarcastic smile. His brow dips in an unamused frown that is still boyishly cute, and walks out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. I’m not sure that is the reaction I want, but I’m in too much of a hurry to ponder.