The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

“Serves you right,” he mumbles under his breath, lifting brows and grinning at me. He looks back over his shoulder to see she hasn’t heard and gets back to downing his food like a starved dog. I wonder if he’s perfected the art of wolfing it down, so he doesn’t taste it.

“Here, drink slowly. Do you need me to pat your back?” Natasha appears at the side of me, flapping around me and sliding my glass in front of my face as though she really thinks she needs to manually make me drink it. I take it from her with a weird squint her way.

Yeah, calm yourself, Mom.

“Sure I can drink this just fine; it’s passed anyway; must have just gone down the wrong way.” I fake smile brightly and clear my throat, already feeling his judgy eyes on me in case I offend his stupid woman again and picking up on my sarcastic tone, even when veiled in super sweetness.

“She’s fine Tasha, sit and eat. You came over and cooked all this. At least sit and eat with us.” Arrick beams her way warmly, her face at once softening from maternal hen squawking around me to smitten doe eyes that make me want to gag. She can never conceal that bleurgh over the top adoration she has for him, and honestly, it’s kind of pathetic.

“No really, I told you I ate before coming over. You two enjoy while I clean up. I just didn’t want you leaving with an empty stomach for such a long drive.” She leans down kissing him on the cheek in a weirdly juvenile way before scurrying back to her domain, no doubt to shine the pots and steam the chrome cooker. I swear that chick could be in a Febreze ad.

clear she has never heard of a

cool set of hazels to my face, a little subtle reminder that he wants me to play nice and behave once again. He nods at the food and smiles

him silently,

answers back under his breath and carries on eating. This time I catch a flicker of a grimace when he takes a mouthful and I’m done

hurt feelings himself. I don’t care if she knows I think her cooking

at me, He’s almost done with his food. He glances over his shoulder to see Natasha engrossed in looking under the sink for something, and he switches our plates, smoothly and soundlessly, without looking this way again until the swap is done seamlessly. I get that

the almost done scraps in front of me, he takes my untouched plate himself and picks up my fork to start eating it. He throws me that ‘you owe me’ look and then digs into the food easily, obviously used to it, and has probably built up a stomach of steel and fire to deal with it. I know he

and use it to draw patterns in the leftover yogurt, bored already and wanting to get going. Because now he has to stop and find me something to actually eat before we head to Amber’s apartment

you, to save you,” I whisper at

Arrick tries so hard to be quiet

her, guilt from him and deadpan from me. Arrick, at least, has