The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

Chapter 61

I’m more relaxed after my bath, warm and lazy from the hot soak and wrapped in a fluffy robe, carrying my clothes. I leave his room and head back towards my own for tonight. Head full of things I want to say to him and lost in how I’m going to convince him that going home is not what’s best for me anymore. I’ve managed to push all the other stuff aside, boxed it in the ‘we will evaluate later’ area of my overly crowded brain. I need to prioritize not going home first.

I jump when his voice comes from right behind me.

“It’s late; maybe we should go to bed and talk over breakfast.”

I spin on him as he dumps his car keys on the table and hauls off his hoody to reveal a t-shirt molded to that hunky frame. Tattoos peeking at the neckline and the sleeve down one arm that makes his muscles a little too enticing. I turn away and clear my throat, shocked at how differently my insides react to the familiar sight.

“I guess.” I hesitate, not sure if I should make a stand and make it clear tonight that he has no chance of making me go home, or if I should let him sleep, become more amenable to what I want after some rest. He looks exhausted. There is so much to talk about, so much mess to pick through and I really have no clue where to even start.

“I called my brother and told him you were here. He’s going around to see your parents to let them know you’re with me.” Arrick walks to the kitchen, looking over his shoulder at me. His eyes meeting and sending another bout of strange tingles through my stomach. He seems, not him.

casually wrinkled and about a million times different from how he normally looks. I can’t even begin to dissect why this feels abnormal, why,

need to figure my life out, Arry, and I don’t just mean over us. I need something more. I won’t find it back there.” I answer calmly, more grounded after the

we should go to bed, that maybe he is open for discussion now after all. I sigh and tighten my robe, not sure if I am even up to this

job? You never acted like you wanted one before.” He goes about making the coffee

conversation in the hall back at the other apartment, to be talking so platonically and normal as though nothing has happened at all. Even though I don’t feel like this is usual

couch, keeping a three feet gap between us on the long chair. He watches me silently, then stretches forward and slides one of the mugs further along so I can reach it, trying not to acknowledge

So many times in my past he’s taken on this paternal role and been my sounding board for hopes and dreams; I couldn’t love

me home like he said he would do, and I have a chance of making him listen to

it isn’t just a weak idea or vague possibility like I’m implying. I’ve actually located a couple in

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