The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

Sophie’s POV

~ Meeting Arrick for the first time ~

I drop the wooden spoon in the bowl as batter splashes back in my face and recoil in disgust, wiping the wet mess out of my eye and huff stroppily. Temper riling slightly because I cannot get the knack of this at all. Sylvana laughs at my expression and tends to my face with a dish towel she has over her shoulder, dabbing at me lightly to clean it off. That gentle motherly smile and soft manner that soothes my temper tantrum and I calm slightly at her ever-tender touch to my fiery moods, warming inside at her easy manner.

“Oh, Sophie, Bambino.... Don’t be so aggressive with stirring. Be gentle with the batter, or you will pound the air out of the mixture.” She smiles softly and picks the spoon back up to hand to me encouragingly, pushing the bowl back against me on the wooden surface with an eyebrow lift that is meant to endear me to try again. I frown at the heavy ceramic beast and make another attempt at this, sighing heavily and setting my frown to one of determination.

I attack with a lot less grace than the first attempt, and in my overzealous efforts, I get it splashed up my Unicorn t-shirt, alarmingly. I sigh and glare at the mess splattered over twinkles, my unicorn compadre.

I love this top. I’m totally gutted that I defiled him with raw cake mix.

“I really don’t think baking is my thing.” I point out defeatedly, mood taking a nosedive and leaving me feeling heavy and listless. This is another cooking lesson with ‘Mamma Carrero’ that I am failing at. I’ve a skill for spectacular failings in the kitchen department and it never ceases to amaze me how much I suck at cooking. We have one every few days; she calls it ‘bonding time’, to quiz me on how I am settling in with the foster parents she has placed me with, and without fail I make something awful.

She has so much patience and no ends to supplies that I make inedible; it’s a wonder she still even tries, although I like that she’s keeping tabs on me, cares enough to check that I am okay in my new life. At least I know this time I have someone to run to if my life turns out as awful as it was with my biological parents. I trust her.

She reminds me of her son, Jake, so much. She has his eyes and his easy manner, and I feel like I can relax with her, the way I relax with Jake and Emma. Knowing that all of them have the same genuine goal, to keep me safe, to look after me and I really appreciate it. Blessed to be given this new chance in life.

Sylvana found me a home with people who live close by and so far, so good. They seem to like me, they even let me put a lock on my door, so I feel safe around them. They are pretty awesome people, if not a little too caring. I guess in time I can maybe relax around them and stop questioning if this is all real all the time. I have siblings for the first time in my life and even though they all seem nice, I’m just not ready to bond with any of them yet. I mean this could be temporary, it’s just a foster home after all. I don’t want to get my hopes up yet and start to care about people that might not stay in my life for long. I like Sylvana though, she doesn’t make me feel like I’m anything different. Anything broken.

She doesn’t bring up the stuff I don’t want to talk about, even though I know it’s part of her job. I mean, the support worker I see weekly is from her own charity... he told me she is the reason I got homed so fast. It’s almost unheard of for a fourteen-year-old runaway to find a family like the Huntsbergers so easily, especially coming from poverty. I guess I owe all this to her, and Jake, and Emma. I owe them everything. Although I know it probably won’t last. I’m a lot to handle at times and know sometimes when something is too good to be true, then it is, so, I aim to enjoy it while I can. Build up my strength in case I need to run or go back to the streets again and fend for myself.

and feel so much love for her. I just wish I knew how to express it all a little better than I do as it’s not particularly easy for me to show emotion. It’s easier with Emma... she gets me,

sounds so much like Jake, echoes down the hall and I falter, my mixing poised as I freeze. I am not good with strangers, yet this one sounds like Jake, so I’m not sure if it’s him or not. There’s something different in the voice though, only slightly, and my heart beats faster as Sylvana walks

elevating, and breathing getting a little shallower as nerves crash through me at the sudden intrusion on our time. Still not good at coping with my anxiety, but I’m learning to hide it and get on top of it more. I breathe slowly to combat the suffocating feeling in my chest and focus on slow stirs

bambino.” Sylvana walks forward into a tall frame, concealed behind her body, who embraces her tightly. I can see sandy hair over her head and wide shoulders over her own

is low and husky, that same Jake depth of tone and I wonder if this is the elusive brother I have been told about. Sylvana talks about Arrick a lot, but he’s always away at college or travelling; he does it a lot apparently. This is the first time he’s been here while I have, it would make sense, seeing as he’s clearly

introduce him, and I feel the panic start to rise in my throat. Hands going cold and body icing with apprehension at meeting a new male, a new stranger. They both move as she turns to me and I duck my eyes back to what I’m doing, overcome with shyness and unable to look up as my gut twists in my body. Trying to hold myself in

voice pulls me up, almost like hypnotic magic, clever with her spells of persuasion and I find myself connecting to a pair of pretty hazel brown eyes, studying me coolly in a calm and handsome face. Surprised

my liking and instantly feel defensive as my body bristles up in alarm. I barely took in anything but his eyes and can still feel them on

don’t need anyone new to be around me right now. Strangers mean danger. Especially ones who have a weird ability to render me still with just a look; it’s unnerving as hell and my heart doing a rhumba

broad strong shape of a teen, maybe late teens. He isn’t ugly, he’s kind of cute; okay maybe more than cute, except he has Giovanni’s nose, which is a shame because it’s a bit odd at the bridge. I like his hair... it’s spiky and

who care about how they look is an attractive thing, seeing as boys and men I knew never did. He has nice taste in clothes anyway; jeans, sneakers and a tight grey t-shirt with some fighting club or something on the front, which highlights the fact he works out. Casual, good looking and relaxed; a dangerous combo for most young girls

I respond flatly and look back down at what I’m doing. Not interested. He looks too cocky, too chatty, too smiley. He will be like every other guy on the planet who has

makes me squirm because it’s kind of nice in a completely awful

Ughhh.

I don’t. He is way too old for me, I mean, I’m not even fifteen yet and he looks.... well not fifteen. Maybe eighteen. I don’t know. He has a young look, but then again, there’s something

for coffee pots at every opportunity, and it’s plain weird. I hate the smell of the stuff, it makes me think of things I really don’t

and spoon and jump back as though he’s scolded me. Even though he didn’t touch me, my heart lurches to my mouth in knee jerk fear. He doesn’t react, hand still in the bowl, eyes come to me and his face straightens a little. A slight frown as he slowly draws away and smiles softly, movements extremely

poised to run if he tries to get any closer. My heart racing as embarrassment flows over me, and I look away, moving back to grab the spoon at speed and die of shame that I reacted so noticeably. I can’t help it. I hate people coming too close, especially men and that’s what he is, even though he’s young. He’s a threat. He’s male and he’s obviously a guy who can pull girls easily with a smile and a wink. Just not me, never me. I inhale deeply and swallow down hard, regaining outward control while my insides are a shuddering mess and try to return to that silent moody aura, I