The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

I’ve mulled around my room for the last few hours, sitting on my bed and sewing embellishments to a pair of jeans I’ve revamped into a new short denim skirt, trying hard not to get frustrated with the feelings inside. Partly to amuse myself and partly to piss Arrick off after leaving my other one in Amber’s apartment. That childish part always has to win in some way. Too defiant for my own good.

I used to do this sort of stuff when I was bored; customize my clothes and jazz up anything I felt needed it. It has a way of focusing my mind as I watch the small stitches neatly form wherever I work my needle. I forgot how much I missed this.

My sewing box is laid on the bed beside me, my box of assorted trim scattered in front of me and the mess of cut denim and scraps trailing off to one side as the housekeeper finishes unpacking what’s left of my luggage and removes herself with items for the laundry. She smiles my way with a warm affectionate look, and I catch myself smiling back, despite my funk, as I watch her out the door. My mother appears behind and maneuvers around her.

“Sophie, darling, can I come in?” The curvy floral dress she’s wearing suits her bustier figure and I can’t help but notice my mom looks older, with grayer hair and more lines around the eyes. Lingering by the open door for a moment, she regards me with a little hesitation. In the last months we have drifted apart; that close bond suffering badly, and now she isn’t sure how to approach me. I experience that chasm of guilt opening up again like a canyon of fire, and it irritates me, adding to my tetchy mood and inner darkness.

“It’s open, isn’t it?” I huff churlishly and then internally chastise myself at the crushed expression fleeting across my mom’s face. I am so used to being prickly with people around me nowadays, I forget what it is like to have someone, who genuinely loves you, hurt by it. I put down my sewing and straighten up, clearing my throat to try and shove the attitude down where it belongs, and remind myself that this woman is someone who changed my entire life. This woman is my mom in every way, and I need to stop shoving her far away, along with everyone else, like they have all offended me somehow.

She moves into the room slowly and carefully and nestles herself on the end of the high four-poster bed, making the decision to ignore my outburst, and wriggles back until she’s seated comfortably. She seems to be avoiding my gaze and I know it’s while she gathers herself emotionally. She doesn’t want to show me I have wounded her, and it just makes me feel even shittier.

Great job, you’re an asshole, Sophie.

emotion that catches in my throat startles me. I’m not sure if it’s from her caring presence and the way she is looking at me, as though I’m still her lost little girl, or if it’s knowing he didn’t just up and walk out like I thought he did. There’s only confusion at

Arrick can fuck off.

deny that there are emotions I kept buried deep down inside, which are now floating to the surface and some of that outer wall is shaking. Despite everything that has gone on, all I want is to curl up like a child in her arms and have her fix all this mess for me. She used to play with my hair while I laid my head on her lap and sing to me when I was younger. What I wouldn’t give to have her do that right now and act like this was three years ago instead of now. The chasm between us seems huge, and I don’t know how

make a move towards her impulsively, but that old stubborn part of me, self-reliant and protective when in hurt mode, stops me. I wipe my face clean of weakening resolve instead and pick my sewing back up, as though I don’t really care. I know I have reverted to that gangly kid who came here from New York, keeping people on the outside

you what a train wreck existence I was living and how I brought shame on my family?” I sigh heavily, trying to ignore my mother’s pained expression once again, and

that you needed help and time, he told us that you feel lost and empty and don’t know

in my lap again. Irritation grinding inside of me at the

tenfold. Arrick appears in my mind’s eye to make that dull thud in my chest grow larger, the consuming black

getting you out of. That your wall is back up and this time, like everyone else, you’ve put him on the outside too.” She slides off the bed and closes the gap between us by walking around to sit beside me instead, reaching for the child she loves in her memory, but I move back out of reach. I inhale sharply, stabbed with a pain in my heart at his evaluation of

that’s what I am doing, even if it might be true. I hate the fact that even when he’s being an asshole to me, he still seems to understand me, yet still acts like

that? Arrick