The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

Arrick’s POV

~ Sophies love confession ~

I wander across the street towards the Huntsbergers, that knot of anxiety that has been plaguing me since Sophie and I fought a couple days ago, and I’ve been unable to leave to go home without fixing this. I hate fighting with her, hate when we’re mad and brooding apart, but sometimes we need time apart to simmer. Sophie can be hard work at the best of times, especially when she is closed up in her usual defensive, keeping everyone at arm’s length, manner. I was tired, lack of sleep had me short with her and I acted like an asshole who should have known better than to bite when she is pushing me away. This is what she does when she needs people the most and I’m a complete ass for not recognizing classic ‘Sophie in pain’ mode.

I guess because it’s been a long while since she pushed me away so viciously. The last couple of days I have pulled her name up in my cell a million times, but my gut told me I owed her a face to face. She’s all I have thought about. Guilt eating away at my stubborn mood and a longing to make things right with us. I can never stay mad or distant with her, ever; the overriding need to reach out and feel her presence always consumes me. The truth is, I can’t ever have her mad at me, because I love her, and I hate fighting with her. Life sucks when Sophs is hating on me.

The Huntsbergers new housekeeper Olivia lets me in, and she motions upstairs when I ask for Soph’s whereabouts. The house seems eerily quiet and I’m glad. If we are about to have an all-out Sophie rage, then I would rather not have an audience. The girl knows how to throw a tantrum and a half, and she can be pretty verbal when she’s pissed at me. I know I deserve it. I dumped her back home, got snide with her and fucked off for an entire day while I simmered.

I don’t even know why I was so mad at her, but I was. A stupid reaction, and it took twenty-four hours minimum, to stop being that pissed. Lately I seem to get so easily mad at her and I don’t know why. It’s not me, it’s not how I have ever been with her, but these past few months she ignites it somehow. It’s almost like the harder she gets to handle, and the wilder her lifestyle, the more she gets inside my head and I react emotionally instead of facing what she needs from me to be okay again. It fucks me up that I can’t fix her.

She needs my help, not my moods and I know I am letting her down by acting like a prize idiot and avoiding her the last couple of days, instead of facing this head on like I used to. I pulled her through worse, handled things more calmly. I need to get back to that, it’s what she always needs.

I woke up this morning and it was clear as the sky. Stop fucking around and go be the best friend she needs. Stop dismissing her when you don’t know how to deal with her; you used to be her everything and now you’re never there for her. Sophie isn’t the problem here, I am. I stopped being her rock and this is my karma.

I scale the stairs at speed and come level with her bedroom door, surprised to see it’s wide open, which is unusual for her. She values her space and privacy a little obsessively sometimes, and I wonder if this is just another sign that she is desperately reaching out for her family to guide her. Welcoming people in easily, without hindrance, and I feel shittier that all the signs are there, and I have been missing them for god knows how long.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, pull on my most appealing expression to grovel for forgiveness I stride into her room with a confidence I definitely do not feel. Sophs mad at me is the same as being scalded by my Mom. It matters a hell of a lot more than it should.

Sophie is curled up on her bed, looking small and cute, her favorite fluffy Unicorn she named something crazily stupid, like ‘Princess Sparkly’, or some shit, is over her face with her arms wrapped around it tightly, blocking out the world. The Sophie pose of self-soothing, and I feel worse that she has needed a hug and I wasn’t around to supply her with one. My stomach sinks with the sight of her; back in kid mode, sweats and ponytails, and cuddly companions. Vulnerable and tiny, not doing so well in her battle against the big bad world and I fucking left her here. My stomach hits the floor with the weight of douchebagness, heart sinking and emotions heavy. This is the girl I’m powerless against. The girl who needs a protector.

attention and alert her to my presence. Meaning every single word as I stand here, desperate to go over and squeeze her half to death. I hate how broken she seems lying there alone. Sophie yanks the teddy down and glares at me with half shock, half outrage, and I have to suppress the urge to smile at that adorable little

still hold a crazy amount of power over me. She looks away

moody little Madame.

isn’t yelling and telling me to fuck off, and stand by the door waiting to see if I should come in. I’m hesitant and wary, knowing she can be unpredictable and the last thing I want is another fight and scope her bedside for missile launchable implements she may feel a need to send my way with that psycho aim of hers, and

to resist her and suddenly overwhelmed with the need to wrap her up and squeeze her to death. I hate when she’s upset, I hate when we are not okay even more. It

I smile her way and catch her eye for a second before she looks away again, crazily evasive for her and wounding my soul. I wonder if she is still mad or if this is awkwardness because

mad at you, Mimmo.

she pulls the Unicorn into her stomach and squeezes tighter. Childlike and irresistible, she knows how to make every part of me feel the full brunt of regret at hurting my girl. And boy, does she? I swear she can psychically kick me in the stomach any time she

without making up, we rarely fight

dodges me. A tiny flicker of wariness on that dainty face and a hint of a glare. Still pissed then. “Don’t

leaving Princess Squishy, or whatever its name discarded on the bed between us. Getting the hell away from me is not a good sign. She’s way madder than even I

Shit.

may prove to be harder than I thought. Even for sulky Sophie, she is acting out of sorts and evasive maneuvers usually mean she is in lock down inside her own head over more than

feet, baggy t-shirt, doing nothing for her figure, yet she looks exactly how I always think of her. In casual

hasn’t slept enough though, and she looks exhausted right now. Again, guilt eats at me that maybe this is down to me and directly related to our fight. The

with me and get up to close the gap between us. Inner gut tense and nerves a little on edge with how she is. I walk up behind her and slide my arms around her slight figure, fitting against her like a second skin. It’s so easy to cuddle Sophs, she’s always felt natural within my arms and I gravitate to touch her anytime we are close

being with her, but I sense her tension suddenly. Her body turning rigid within my hold and she shrugs me off fast. Abhorring my touch is rare, almost non-existent since she was around fifteen, and I get

state. My heart constricts, and stomach tightens achingly at her reaction. She has never weirded out from me touching her before, well not in a long, long time. The way she spun out disrupted the small vanity to the side of her and sent a million cosmetic jars spilling crazily all over. A perfume bottle rolls towards me and I scoop