The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

I pick up my bag and wander across the street to collect my shoes, looking up at my apartment with cold emptiness. I’m numb, feet aching, tears streaming down my face and wander slowly into the building, letting myself in and getting up to my floor via the stairs. It’s deathly silent, around two am or thereabouts and I try not to make too much noise that will disturb my neighbors.

I only sat on the cold sidewalk for a minute, before self-preservation kicked in, my numbness, made me move and walk inside. I can’t stop sobbing, but I feel dead inside. I don’t think I can handle this pain if I sit and ponder it, so I have decided to walk, anywhere, anyplace, until my legs fall off, so that I do not sit here and cry over his leaving me.

Again.

When I get into my apartment, I throw my bag and coat and shoes aside, find sneakers and a hoody and pull them over the top of my dress, tuck my hair behind my ears and head back out. I don’t want to be here surrounded by everything that reminds me of him; the unicorns he bought me lying everywhere, the memories of every part of this place he has inhabited or touched, or even the fact one of his jerseys are hanging on the handle of my bedroom door.

I pull my phone from my bag and turn it onto silent mode, not that he’ll call but it’s part of how I’m feeling. I ponder leaving it behind, but he ingrained into every part of me for so long that I should always have it with me, in case I need help, and I take it, despite myself.

I don’t want pings from my social media or anything to infiltrate my head right now. I want to walk and cry myself out, so I will come back and sleep and try to forget all of this. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him when I see him again, if he ever sees me again. I don’t even know if this was a fight or a breakup anymore; it’s all such a mess in my head and I can’t think straight.

He seemed like he was closing a door on me, emotionally, physically. I’m not sure how I come back from that anymore, especially when I don’t know if I can ever trust him the way I want to. Knowing she was in Miami has hurt me irreversibly.

He left me, again. I’m so heartbroken and mad, and yet empty.

I know I over-reacted and acted crazy; jealousy and insecurity spiking, knowing he fueled it by keeping the fact she came to Miami from me. It still hurt to think he would do that, how he couldn’t understand why this would upset me.

I have every reason to feel insecure when it comes to Natasha, he has no clue what it’s like to feel this way or how much it screws you up inside. I know I just acted like an idiot and more so when that stupid bitch Miranda started on me. But he has to see his blame in the final eruption of everything I have been holding inside of me.

I’m done with drinking; I always make an idiot of myself and I get way too volatile and emotional. It’s great until something sparks us off and then we are completely wrong for each other. We can go either way; either lust crazed, all over each other, crazily in love or at each other’s throats and hurting one another stupidly.

I get outside and make my way down the steps. Tears making my face ache and my head hurt. I want to get myself together and not feel anything; maybe if I sober up, I will be able to calm the chaos and right now, I just want to walk. The streets will be quiet now and the air will do me good, help the alcohol work its way out of my system for a while.

***

It’s been an hour or two, I’m not even sure anymore; the sky has lost the darkness and we are moving into dull grey light. I’m freezing, my nose is numb, legs like Jell-O from the amount of walking I’ve done in the last hours. Shivering and decide I maybe should head back to my apartment to heat up, maybe think about what I am going to do if this is really it for us. I guess it must be nearing four or maybe even five am and it’s dumb for me to keep walking the streets all night like some sad homeless nomad.

I pull out my phone from the pocket of my hoody to check the time as I walk the street, signs of life starting around me as the garbage trucks and traffic get a little more frequent and people start milling around with early morning chores. I skip over someone sweeping out a shop door and swipe my screen.

My heart lurches when I see I have seventeen missed calls from Arrick, ten texts too, even voicemails, which he never leaves. My stomach lurches with sudden butterflies of fear. I stare at my phone, unable to contemplate even reading them or calling him back while I’m still a mess and my hands are numb, yet I don’t know what to do. If he’s calling to end things properly, give me all the reasons that we are not working, then I don’t know if he would try this hard. Maybe he’s calling to have a go and fight some more, chew me out on exactly how I behaved, now that he is soberer and knows I will be too. My hands tremble and I stare numbly at his name in duplicate on the row of missed calls, so broken up inside.

I’m in bed asleep, so it can only be awful; possibly telling me all the reasons he wants to be free of

with a hood pulled over her head, dressed in black and obviously homeless. She walks right into me, even though I try to dodge her, with an ‘ooft’ and then skip out of the way with a mumble. I slide my phone back into the pocket of my hoody protectively, it’s not

accent that comes from under the black hood is crazily familiar, I turn and glare

I call out impulsively, the head of the hood spinning as the face which I haven’t seen since that night in the club, turns my way in surprise. Wide eyed and free of makeup, Camilla

color it has, and I stalk towards her, seeing nothing but rage and anger, bubbling up from somewhere deep and after a night like mine, she gets the brunt of my turmoil. I punch her square

proud of the perfectly poised and formed knuckle duster I deliver, just as he taught me, sending her reeling on her ass across the path, her hood knocking back to reveal that bright red messy hair that stands out like a beacon. She grabs her face; blood instantly running from her nose and

the hell

broken every one of my knuckles and maybe my thumb as stinging, dull ache spreads over them alarmingly and knocks the fight out of my sails. I clutch my hand to my chest in agony and yet still feel a

tries to yell, but it’s muffled by her hands and the fact she has red liquid running down her face. I feel strangely better, at my

She deserves worse.

my foot, in a bid to goad her to get up and face me. Arrick always told me I should fight fair, and if this bitch wants to get up and go, I am so in the mood to have a girly punch up. I’ve enough anger

from me like a coward, unable to face me, and

girl and be this pathetic.” I follow her and watch in irritation as

back as

It’s burning like hell and already starting to bruise, and I really could use some

can’t help myself from turning, despite hating her, my inquisitive side gets the better

you talking about?” I glare at her, trying not to care, but she seems so desperate that for

cry, pathetic little silent tears rolling down her face and I’m torn between keeping on going, forgetting I ever saw her, and turning back to her. It’s clear she wants someone to listen and I’m sorry she picked probably

beyond

men rape and abuse girls like me?” I yell at her, stomping back, despite my inner protests and face her now she is back on her feet. So much anger still bristling inside of me and I need

for that apartment, meeting you in the city… All the time I invested in you. The other girls do it willingly, for drugs and the men pay to have a good time, with girls who are a little more class than street pushers.” She sniffs, wipes her face on her sleeve and lets go of the mess. Sadly, it’s not as bad as it looked, just a bloody nose and a little redness and I doubt it’s even broken. I’m disappointed

of them, her family has money. Why would she need to offer sex for drugs?” I ask drily, hardly convinced that her little story is even legit, and

The girls get hooked on my product and when mummy and daddy stop paying, they become one of my party girls. Sex on tap for wealthy men who get to do whatever they want to them. Lucrative little business deal until I took on the wrong girl.” Camilla cries some more, then wipes the tears away coolly, that strength I

a very non-surprised

in her entire life, but I feel nothing for her. I don’t know if it’s the emptiness because of what’s happened with Arry or if it’s what she did to me, but I struggle to feel even

sneer at her, satisfied that

of the city, out of the state. Going anywhere they can’t find me. I owe them too much money and they don’t like lame excuses.” She’s rambling at me, I guess I’m probably the first human contact since she went into hiding and by the looks of her, it’s been a rough