The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

Natasha’s POV

~ Life after Sophie ~

I watch Arrick push his food around his plate distractedly, eyes on what he’s doing, yet he seems completely detached from the here and now. We’re in a busy restaurant, the food is good, the company not so much; he has barely said two words the whole time we have been here, and he has had about four beers with dinner so far.

Arrick never drinks excessively, normally, but I guess this sums up our life of the past three weeks. I’m irritated, upset but I am trying to keep the pleasantries going. I am trying so hard to not let it get to me, to keep a smile on my face, a positive outlook that we can get through this bump in the road of our relationship, but he makes it so hard.

I try not to watch him too much as I eat my own food and give up on small talk. His nods and ‘hmm’ responses make me want to throw my wine glass at him, and I am trying to avoid all forms of nagging or bickering while things between us are a little fragile. He’s been a vacant, distant nightmare, since I caught him with his face glued to that trampy little bitch, he calls his best friend. I’m glad she’s gone; she has been nothing but an eternal thorn in my side for two years of our life together, always there, like a third wheel, monopolizing his attentions and getting between us, but Arrick being Arrick, you can’t say anything about it, criticize their friendship in any way. You can never criticize Sophie, for all that is holy, it is the one topic that makes the dick side of Arrick come out to play.

I hate her with a passion, I always did. He doesn’t like clingy or jealous girls, abhors them.... that is unless it’s her and she is disgustingly both. A jealous and immature, clingy, needy little girl, that I really never thought would ever have a chance of being the whore who entrapped him with sex.

It completely hit me from the left side, the last thing I ever expected. She always seemed so much like an annoying bratty sister to him; and the way he was with her, the affections which drove me crazy, the little in jokes and touchy feely between them. I hated it, but I never thought it was something I should worry about. I never thought that he would be capable of cheating on me at all, never with her. That child!

He isn’t the type, and I guess I can’t really blame him for looking for sexual gratification in some slut that was only too willing to give. Looking back with open eyes it’s obvious her puppy eyes for him were never innocent. I don’t really like sex, and he does. It’s not that he isn’t good at it, it’s I don’t happen to like it at all, and even though he has given me more than my fair share of orgasms, I just do not hunger for it the way he does. Hate the messiness, the awkwardness, having him face to face and wanting to make out and lay hands on me, in really inappropriate places. Wants to do things with his mouth, that I find wholly shocking. The sweatiness, squirminess and full on suffocating aspect of sex, embarrassing postures, and noises and how long it takes him to actually finish.

I always thought that I would get married before I ever had sex with anyone, after all that is how I was raised, but then I had a teen boyfriend who pushed me into it, and it’s ruined for me, for an eternity. Sex still feels a little bit sinful, very dirty, and shameful when we have it, and I’m holding out hope that after we get married, I’ll lose the guilt and maybe enjoy it a little bit more.

Arrick used to get a little bit dominant, in the beginning of our relationship and sex was all he seemed to think about, drunk usually, as he seemed to party a lot more back then. I just felt pressured to play along, act like I liked it rougher, harder, constant. I didn’t. I would rather read a book, bake a cake, or clean my apartment. He never seemed satisfied after we were done, ready to go again only short hours later and I used to wonder if all men wanted to constantly do that kind of thing.

Over the years he just seemed to accept that I wasn’t really into it, and as long as I gave him sex every so often, in bed, with him on top, then we never brought it up again. I preferred it that way and I learned how to push it along to make him finish quicker. Lack of it certainly cut down his start to finish time, especially if I used my hand first and got him along a bit before allowing him to penetrate. Messy, awkward, but quick, and then he would let me alone to sleep.

misses that part of our relationship, the more adventurous sex, and I’ll be willing to revisit it when we start to get physical again. Right now, we seem to be plodding along and he hasn’t tried to initiate any sort of sex at

he kissed me, with some meaning. It’s

his jacket on. He hasn’t even given me time to finish, or even seems to acknowledge that I have

be groveling to me for what he has done to us yet has the nerve to act the way

to me. I should be used to this side of him, it’s predominant most of the time. Closed up, internalized and emotionally blank. It’s worse than it ever used to be, but he’s always had this way about him. It’s one of the things I always liked. That

if you want.” He looks over my head at nothing, then glances down as he lifts his cell and I catch him scanning the screen with that infuriating frown on his face. He does this about a hundred times a day, since he made her leave; he doesn’t know I am aware of it, but I am. It drives me insane. Always checking his god damn cell, obsessively, always looking disappointed when he picks it up. He’s so transparent in that moment and it riles

temper expertly and remain unchanged outwardly. Why can’t he just forget about her? Let it go? Why can’t he focus on the

answer with a tighter tone, then have to scold myself for losing my cool with him. This isn’t the way to mend things; by being short with him, by being snappy. He hates that, he is more than likely to

throws money on the table and turns to leave. My temper flares at this complete lack of manners. He normally has impeccable manners and I look around at other diners, to see if anyone notices how blatantly rude he is being. I sigh with relief at

I come level with him and crunch my hands into fists when I see him scrolling his cell again, looking at his call list. The knot of anger and upset deep down, moving up my chest like burning hot coals, and for the first time I

I’m meeting Nate for a late-night training session.” He doesn’t look my way, doesn’t even ask if that is okay, or if I even want to go home. Just his decision and I’m being palmed off again. He’s done this almost every time I see him for the last month. Short time together, where he barely speaks about

bottle it up and remind myself that this is just a phase. A little bump in the road, an adjustment period. Time for him to forget that hussy and what she has done to his head. Sophie really has done a number on him. I don’t get it at all; what he saw in her. She was a high maintenance, spoiled child, who tantrummed and stropped, who always demanded her own way and made life a strain. It’s like she weaved a magical spell over him, whenever she was around, and he only ever saw her. Trying to compete with it was futile, the way all his attention would be for her only, the way he changed when she was around; immature,

and he has a name in business, if only he would stop dipping into that awful fighting scene he likes so much and focus on being more like his brother. Jake has it sorted out,

stay with you tonight.” I state bravely as he ushers me out into the cool night air and puts his hand up to hail a cab. He doesn’t look my way, so I continue, holding my breath adding some flirty tones to my voice, lowering my lashes, and fluttering coyly. “We could maybe try and rekindle

I offered it. Not that I did very often.

tomorrow.” He glances at me fleetingly, not really even trying to sound apologetic, and

the one who is

I regret it instantly, losing my cool and baring my temper in such

what he did? What

it, to move on,