The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

“Natasha is coming over to make us breakfast,” he states flatly and continues texting. Her, I guess. Who else would have him homed in on his phone like a reject and ignoring my sparkling company?

“Why?” I pout, that inner annoyance creeping up like it always does when she’s involved. I like this new ‘No Natasha’ atmosphere and having him all to myself for once.

“Because she won’t see me for a few days while I take you home, she never saw me last night at all, and she wants to check on you. Make sure you’re okay, and because she’s sweet and this is something she wants to do.” Arrick answers me with that edgy tone. The one which screams ‘Yes I know you dislike my girlfriend, live with it’. He carries on with whatever he’s typing, speed tapping like a pro.

I roll my eyes and pull the smoothie towards me. Biting down the urge to say something sarcastic in relation to her and think better of it. He has zero sense of humor when it comes to Miss. Starched Pants. and I have only hostility when it comes to talking about her.

“Well, hope she can cook pancakes because that’s what I want.” I gulp the best smoothie I have had in a long time and exhale dreamily when I get that creamy aftertaste. He put an ice cream scoop or two in, just for me. Despite always moaning at me about how much crap I eat and my lack of healthy diet. He really is the ‘bestest’ best friend ever and right now I can forgive him for his diabolical taste in life partners.

“Yeah, figured you would, so I told her already.” He is still looking at his phone, typing again and I guess Natasha is a speed responder too. I wonder what they could have to talk about if all they are discussing is pancakes and her inevitable little run over here like a good little puppy. I have a complete urge to snoop over his shoulder and see what lame things the queen of boring has to say, but instead, I focus on my smoothie and push at the table with a sock-clad toe.

“What’s the plan for today then?” I nudge his shoulder, annoyed that he’s only half with me and half engrossed in typing. I nudge him again and when he frowns and ignores me, I lift my toe and shove at his foot instead until he sighs and pauses the phone tapping.

“Food … Your place for your stuff … Then a long drive home to see our families.” He squints at me this time, nudges me back with an air of irritation and drops his phone into his lap. Annoyed or not, I still managed to get him to ditch the bitch and give me his full undivided attention mid-text. I know it’s juvenile, but I give myself a mental high five that I still have more sway over him than she does. His phone vibrates but he just shifts it to the couch and lays it face down. I lay my drink down too.

like Jake, at your beck and call to get home a heck of a lot faster than driving?” I sigh and flop down on my back childishly, not relishing the four-hour journey at all. Even with him

even defend myself, he shoves his finger in my ear. I react in the way I always do, lashing back and cringing like crazy. Aiming my slaps at his face as he expertly swipes them aside and ends up on top of me in the blink of an eye with that crazy speed of his reflexes. He pins me down under his thighs and tucks my wrists under his knees as he straddles me, flat on my back, and laughs down at the extremely pissed off expression on my

pretty much unable to struggle at all. He just laughs at me and starts poking me

me in the chest then gently shoves my face to the side as though pushing along a typewriter roller and goes “Bing!” while laughing

bully.” I wiggle some more, trying hard to bounce him up while he continues

work … Freak? I kinda like that one … I’ll stop on one condition.” He smirks, holding his hands over me, perched to keep jabbing, and gazes down at me from his straight towering

madder by the second. Hating that I know he will only keep doing this until I break anyway, and I am too hungover for this kind of crap. My normally happy giggly response is dead. I am tired, suffering, and the asshole made me wake

drama before we head out, and I am in no mood for a Tasha-Sophie squabble scene, under any circumstances. She puts

be free as the overwhelming rage of my claustrophobic mind starts to rise up. He knows I hate being pinned down, uses it to

frowns at me and I

for God’s sake.” I can barely breathe with the weight

again and softly pats my cheek a