The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

I catch that tiny tensing of his jaw deepen, muscle twitching under his cheekbone, and know for certain he is more than just a little mad with me. He’s in closed off, livid as hell mode. My stomach sinks again, breathing slowly to push back the effects of the night’s drinking and the new waves of hurt that are directly connected to him.

“Leave it alone, Sophs, I’m not in the mood.” He sighs, shifting in his seat to pull his arm away from me, resting his hand on top of the wheel instead to show we’re not doing the touchy thing right now. He doesn’t even look my way, just that frown he does to show he wants me to leave him be and stares straight ahead. I bite on my lower lip anxiously, pushing down the knot of apprehension.

“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.” I sniff back the threatening downpour, pleased to hear I’ve lost more of my slur and my voice sounds pretty normal. My throat starts to burn with the effort of holding back the floodgates, chewing on my lip more severely in a bid to keep it all down inside. He hates when I cry, and I hate letting him see me cry.

Arrick frowns harder, even from the side I can see his brows dipping, his eyes darken almost instantly, even in the semi-darkness of the car, and I know from memory the green will have taken over more of the brown. The windows to his moods, sometimes they are the only tell-tale sign.

“Then stop acting like some spoiled brat in self-destruct mode, Sophs. This isn’t you. He gestures down my body frostily. The short denim skirt that barely covers anything much when I am sitting this way and the low-cut strappy top that is completely open at the back. I get that he doesn’t like this outfit or any I have ever worn like it, but these were rare finds. I spent hours in line to get this skirt at the recent Dior release. Even if it’s barely a scrap of fabric.

“This is the current trend, this top was a steal from a little unknown designer making waves in the fashion world, and someone I think’s going to be a hot topic next season. You wait and see, and I don’t see you telling your girlfriends to cover up when they walk around half dressed,” I snap, pushing myself lower in the seat so I can prop my knees on his dash in a stroppy pose, letting my feet dangle to ease the ache from being on them all evening. I shimmy myself so I can get my skirt lower on my hips to cover the flesh I am flashing and catch him glaring my way. That look just pushes my anger buttons; the look he loves to throw at me when he thinks I’m being childish and it’s all he seems to be offering right now.

reeled back in beneath that deadpan demeanor once more, like a well-oiled machine, sliding it back down, despite the moment of weakness in that cool armor of his. I hate that he has become this way with me. The Arry I knew and loved never had need to keep himself under that perfect check. He would yell if he needed to, smile way more than I have seen him do in a while and frown at me with every little annoying thing I did. This right here is one of the reasons I hate HER so much, she makes him this way. To me, it just signals that he isn’t happy, he’s not himself anymore and that maybe she is

breaking in my throat. I wriggle myself awkwardly in the smooth leather upholstery, back into an upright position, as my full rage and sadness collides in the middle of my chest from his criticism. Frustrated with how he’s being, emotion bubbling from the last few hours of my life, and general hostility at everything. Of all people, I can never take anything negative from Arry, it devastates me. My raging hot temper flashes up to stick its nose

pity party hitting home as my voice croaks. Thinking about dickheads who cheat and so-called friends they fuck. Best friends who

control of that inner wave that I have been trying to hold in, becoming completely drunk dramatic, and it starts pouring down my face hurting way more when it’s let loose. I screw my face up to try and gain control of that biting pain that consumes my chest and throat. Feeling stupid for

side of the road, curbing a sidewalk and slamming to a halt in a dramatic fashion, especially for him of late. He turns to me suddenly, so angrily that it makes me jump in fright. It’s so

My heart beating a little too painfully as atmosphere clouds the car between us. “If I didn’t give a shit, then tell me why I drop everything in my life the second you need me, huh? Why your family has been trying to get you home for weeks after you walked out on them, and never give up trying to contact you. Why Leila, your sister, has been crying nonstop over how wild and reckless

he hates being this way with anyone, especially me. That in itself pisses him off

he snaps, which is rarer than rain in the desert. It’s like that inner child in me gets

bursts with raw agony, and once again tears trickle down my face involuntarily. I feel stupid and immature as my lip trembles and I want to be

Running.