The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

Arrick’s POV

~ Leila’s party ~

Leila’s party is losing its sparkle for me. Too drunk, too miserable at having to see Sophs swanning around with golden boy Christian all night and I am done with being here. I’ve said my goodbyes to my brother and I’m leaving before I do something stupid I’m going to totally regret concerning ‘boyfriend’ and drag Sophs into a dark corner to kiss the shit out of her if I stay here. Seeing her looking this beautiful, this happy with someone else is killing me.

I spy Sophs, Leila, and Daniel huddled together at the front door as I head that way, a little too late due to not watching where I was going and swerve at the last second before she spots me. My heart lurching at running into her again when I’m already a complete emotional wreck. Hating that even still, my initial reaction to seeing her is a swift kick in the gut. Almost keeling sideways because I am way too drunk for this shit and my balance is fucked as it is. I should never have downed so much booze in a bid to numb out my heartbreak.

“I just need to make sure my baby sister is okay, you know, cos I love her more than life, and the world, and the earth, and the …” Leila’s slurring, commanding, cutesy voice sways my way as I make to escape but someone grabs me in passing and hauls me backwards with a firm tug. No sense of balance whatsoever means I stumble backwards comically, arms flailing for a second before I’m righted by my main man Daniel, who seems sober. My head spinning with the effort and growl as I turn on that blonde little fireball known as Leelou. Hating that she brought me right back beside the object of all my pain and the reason I was fleeing. I’m more than aware of Sophs standing looking like my idea of a fantasy in a sparkly little silver dress, big beautiful blue eyes in smoky makeup and that gorgeous blonde hair which brings back so many painful happy memories.

“Arree!” Leila chants and startles me with her ninja-style maneuver, she’s waaaaay drunker than I’m and being held up by her husband, seeing as I seem to have trouble standing still. I clear my throat painfully as instinct pulls my eyes to Sophs, because I can never control that part that’s always drawn to her, hating that she blushes and immediately turns away to avoid the contact. My heart clenches in my chest and my palms immediately get clammy at her proximity again. I still haven’t recovered from dancing with her earlier.

“What, Leeloo?” I lean in and bop her on the head, loving the bones of one of closest friends and amused she’s this hammered at her own party. I sway in and almost bang her face to face and have to right myself before Daniel ends up holding us both up again. Everything is swaying and I am overly aware of the sexy, beautiful crazy little distraction to my left. All I want to do is touch her.

“Take Sophie home and look after her. She needs a real man to take care of her, not that gay guy she hangs about with, making moon eyes at my husband.” Leila is slurring and her words don’t make sense. I frown as I decipher and repeat it slowly in my brain once more, picking out the two most important words ‘gay guy’ and throwing a questioning look at her. Instantly confused as something in the back of my mind jumps to attention.

“What gay guy?” I lean in and try to get her full attention, but Daniel starts pulling her in the direction of the door, in a bid to control her wandering body and she throws me a deep frown, like I’m thick. A sweet look of ‘duh’ on her pretty face.

“Christian! He’s lovely and all, but Sophie needs a real boyfriend, Arrick. Why don’t you love my sister? She’s awesome and beautiful, and she adores you. You would make such cute babies and look; we would be like a real brother and sister.” Leila grabs my face clumsily and plants a kiss on my nose, in a mortifyingly cute, yet kind of gruesome way as her words reverberate through my skull and I stand like a shocked silent moron as they filter through. Daniel has obviously had enough, and starts pushing her outwards, throwing some sort of weird glance Sophs way which only heightens my suspicion and I throw her a look that asks ‘why?’

Heart racing as I take in what Leila said, body instantly stiffer as my drunk haze is kicked aside a little to really grasp the weight and clarity of those words. I almost can’t inhale and have to swallow hard to really let it sink in that Christian is gay. That ‘boyfriend’; touchy feely, hands on my Sophs, with her every second of every minute of her days, shadowing her in her life, is into men … so that means …

“Come on you.” Daniel lifts and scoops Leila up into his arms, looking mighty fucking guilty for a so-called mate and he avoids my glare. Confirming Leila isn’t lying and is not being drunk and mental. Christian is fucking gay! I stand rooted to the spot for a second, chest hammering and breathing shallow as it really hits home that I wasted months without her, because of him! Christian!

“Leila, I’m staying here. I don’t need anyone to look after me and I don’t need a boyfriend. I’m fine.” Sophs offers sweetly, her eyes homed in on her sister and avoiding me as I stare at her side profile, eating into her face to try and pull out answers, knowing fine well she’s been caught out. I can see it all over her. The guilt because she’s never been dishonest with me.

She lied to me.

Sort of. I mean, okay she didn’t say he was her…. but it was implied. It looked like… and Jake told me… Mother fucking assholes!

banking my family knew too, and I’m the only idiot who was kept in the dark, suffering because I thought she’d moved on. Jake is going to get a broken face for letting me believe it this, for letting me pine and suffer when I should have been chasing her to the ends

as she loses a shoe and follows them, scooping it up and avoiding what’s probably my death glare, aimed at her head as it all sinks in that these last months, she hasn’t been dating Christian… he’s nothing more than her friend and she’s been single this entire

head when we step outside and she waves them off. So small and petite and looking every bit like the other half to my soul. Even if she’s one who fucking lies

why the fuck she let me believe otherwise. Why the charade, why the weeks of agony when I could have just …. I could have fixed us. I

veer around me to go back inside. I am in no mood for avoidance, not when I find out the girl, I am crazy about

that she kept the truth from me. To hurt me? To fuck me up? Yeah, I deserved it, but it still sucks that it cuts this deep and she has no idea what it’s stopped me from doing these past months. How many times I stood outside her apartment and didn’t come to her, didn’t try harder to reach out or get to her. How much I have pined, ached, and longed to see her. He’s all

gay friends who pretend to be boyfriends in an attempt to keep her away from me. So not in the mood for interference when I have a lot to say and I’m drunk enough to do it. Moving fast, paced with anger and aware of her struggling to keep up. She tries to get her wrist free from me but in no way am I letting her go until we have

down. To remember why Sophs no longer has anything to do with me and why I’m dragging her petite little ass across the street like a

her heart. To make sure I stayed out of her life because of what I did. To convince me she didn’t need me anymore and show me she had

me worse. Her struggling to get away from me and making it clear that all this time, she chose to keep me thinking she had moved on with another guy. It cuts me to

side of my home and she stumbles into my sudden halt, falling off her ridiculously high shoes and into my chest. She goes over her ankle and yelps, grabbing onto my arm

Stupid shoes.

of old and tending to her so she can stand on the soft grass without breaking her leg, and drop them beside her before straightening up to glare at her for answers. Heart racing, body poised because so much importance rides on this little tiny fact. I’m almost crippled with a low guttural fear that maybe he isn’t gay, and she does love him

minor pain to all out Sophie rage, bristling up, little warrior posture pulling free and she shoves me hard in the

I was with him in that way, not once! Don’t you dare hit me with this shit!” she spits angrily; my fiery little diva hitting full throttle as she squares up to me, enraged that I have accused her of something she has clearly done. For a moment that swell of pride and warmth

cycling between anger, real fear, and fucking despair. Heart pounding through my chest as logic starts to push in and the very real chance that Sophs might not have moved on at all, and instead of hopeless unrequited love, she might actually still have a modicum of feeling for me and I should be begging her, not yelling at her. Then there are the doubts that he’s not gay, I’m being

me so desperate for real answers and no bluffs, lies or games. Anger subsiding when faced with the enraged woman I would

drop my hands when faced with the version of her I used to see often. Blown away by the appearance of my hurricane. There’s not one version of her that I could ever dislike. She’s my beautiful storm, who has the power

Winded by the very real evidence that my hurting her has left her just as messed up as I’ve been for months. My anger fully sizzles away to nothing at all when faced with sheer fury and

late?” I lock my focus on that beautiful face, seeing the tears well in her eyes, the stubborn jut of that chin and all the little tells that the Sophie wall is fully functioning and up around

… To say this to me!” it’s spat in accusation, shielding heartbreak and only because I know her the way I do, I see it. The fire, the venom, the tough girl lashing at me and hating me because I hurt her. I broke my angel, and this is the fall out that I deserve. I recoil inwardly, all anger dying when I realize I should never have started this with rage. I should have come at her on my knees and asked for forgiveness. She’s not as fierce as she likes people to think and I pushed her into a corner without stopping to treat her heart delicately. I forced this reaction. I’m a dumbass,

right to be mad at her for protecting herself against me. I deserved it. I don’t want to fight with her, I don’t care if she let me believe it

leaving. I panic, not willing to let her go ever again and not ready to be done with this conversation when I haven’t had a chance to say half the shit spiraling in my mind, now we’re here. Cold icy terror grasping my guts with the very real possibility she might walk off.

ever fucking touch me again.” She screeches at me viscously; raw pain on show as tears cascade down her face, an expression that rips my soul in two because it’s exactly the same as the night I shredded her heart and rejected her once and for all. That undeniable heartache that I caused her, and it makes me bleed. Everything inside of me crumbles to dust and I’m left with panging, throbbing ache. So

touch her. I know her mind and how she is when in extreme pain. The no touching, give me space or I’ll lash out self-defense mode and I hate that I initiated it. It’s in full throttle and she’s verging on an all-out freak out if I keep pushing her. She begins pacing

again! Go away.” It’s a spew of tear sodden venomous words, thrown for maximum wounding impact and it does. Truth has a way of slicing your soul. It cripples my heart and I wince like she’s stabbed me with a fishing pole right through the chest because I did all that to her, like a dumb fucking moron who had no idea what he was losing at the time. I don’t have a second to react, or respond, when she spins on her heel