The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

The now arriving others, as Leila does the rounds forcing couples this way are soon starting to surround us, and I try my hardest to relax, tell myself this will not be that bad, that I can endure this. I turn towards him when he draws me to the middle and hesitate, swallowing hard, breathing harder when faced with his body edging against mine and don’t know how else to play this, except look completely out of my depth.

“Relax. It’s just a dance, sure Christian won’t mind.” Arrick says flatly, looking over my head as though watching people come onto the floor behind us. I guess he can see or sense my tension. My expression must be one of shell shock. We stand awkwardly for a moment before he slides his hand to my waist and tugs me into him, softly and slowly. Lifting his free hand and offering it to me, so I get the choice if I want to touch him again or not. I take it without even thinking about it, then stare dumbly at the way my hand fits so delicately in his, like it always did. It hurts me inside, in so many ways, and I bite on my lip to curb the urge to cry. To feel so right and so familiar this way, yet we are now worlds apart.

I assume the pose of waltzing, placing a hand in his and the other on his shoulder, turning my face away as I lean into him, so I can at least not look at him. His cheek comes down beside mine, gently against my temple, sending another wave of butterflies through me, as he starts swaying me in time to the music. It’s not the first time he’s danced this way with me, pretty much every party we ever went to together we danced like this, more than a fair share of times. Just none of them felt as awful as this does. It’s agony!

Held against him, feeling his body so perfectly slotted against mine, surrounded by the smell of him, the way he makes me feel when submissive to his movements. I have to bite down to hold it all in, remind myself how angry at him I should be. Find that inner fire of self-worth to keep my shit together, because at the end of the day… He let me go, and the last thing he will ever deserve is my heartache. My heart constricts, but that inner defiant me jumps up to slap it down, shaking myself back to the reality that he does not deserve my tears.

As much as I love him, he no longer deserves any part of me. He fucked this up, not me.

“How’s school? How’s life?” Arrick says softly, right into my ear, huskily close and crazily sexy. I close my eyes, trying to not feel the devastation that deep tone gives me or the way my skin tingles in response to hearing it right against me. I missed his voice.

“Good … I am doing really well. My tutors seem to love me and I’m making friends … real ones.” I try to focus on the swaying motions and small steps we’re taking in time to the music, not his expanse of chest or submersion into his familiar hold, aware of the crowd of dancers around us now and the cameraman flitting around in a bid to capture everyone. His touch destroys me.

I catch sight of Jake and Emma nearby, nose to nose as Jake says something to her, eyes glued to hers and she’s smiling. Every bit infatuated by him as she has always been, her face glowing with sheer adoration. To me, they are the perfect example of when love goes right, and it just makes me feel even lonelier at this moment. She looks tiny compared to him, but he effortlessly seems wrapped around her, protectively caring of the love of his life and oblivious to anything else when she is in his arms.

Daniel and Leila are further back, swaying. Leila’s arms around his neck, gazing at one another cutely as his hands slide around her waist, before being firmly planted on her butt as he pulls her pelvis in against him a little more snugly. He leans in and kisses her softly, despite the sexual pose it’s clear they are as blatantly smitten as Emma and Jake, in their own way, and I realize I am surrounded by couples who all found their other halves so easily. The only pairing on this floor with no romantic connection is Arry and me and it hits me in the stomach like a blow.

so happy and look so right together. It’s like being stabbed in the chest multiple times repeatedly, while looking up at the one guy I stupidly pinned those hopes on. His cheek is still against my temple, so all I see is perfect male throat and that up close smooth

did you have to

All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. No matter how you got there.” Arrick pulls back to look me in the eye

is still hopelessly in love with him holds onto anger and pain, and right now, he makes me want to throat punch him for being this dumb. Always my most volatile when in pain, and

back to leaning his jaw against my temple, adjusts his hold on me and continues dancing

words is the only thing I can seem to do to take my mind off the way he is expertly moving me around, lost in his control and unable to do anything about it. Trying hard not to find anything in them to relate in any way and

furrowed brows and his gaze locked

but I cannot look back at him. I’m too afraid to show him any hint of weakening resolve. So close to tears, so very close to sobbing and throwing myself at him to make it all better. He opens up every vulnerable part of me and pulls the rug from under my feet. I can’t

will to build it faster. He doesn’t get to see how he affects me, and he doesn’t get to know that I still even care. I will die before I let him know that

burned. Twice doesn’t

looking like he’s trying to find the words. Throwing his arms around my shoulders from behind and kissing me on the cheek by the ear in a rather sloppy way. I try to shrug off the wet slobbery kisses as I catch Arrick frowning and turning away, that Carrero death glare making a real play on his face. He looks out across the room behind him, catching Nathan’s eye and walks off towards him without another word. I watch him go, knowing this is out of character for him; being so rude as to walk off without even a goodbye or a hello to my friend. It goes against all his normal good grace and manners, that he is famed for. I grit my teeth to push everything down and throw on my winning smile as I turn to Chris. Acting like this

taking in the boy in the black James Bond tuxedo, crisp shirt and bow tie and the girl in the clingy red dress who looks a million dollars and most worthy of some Hollywood red carpet. No wonder Nathan was keeping her

and fringing, a high bodice with thin straps, and scoop back. I’ve gone for sexy, sparkly and yet modest. School

on hips and a little wiggle as though to make his point. He’s clearly had a few to drink and he is losing his macho guy act, thankfully. I prefer him like this; this is who he is, who I adore, and I don’t like the pretend cuddling up with him either. I don’t care if Arrick knows anymore. I am getting so tired of the whole charade and how awkward it makes me feel. I want everyone to relax and be who