Arrick picked up his cell phone and scrolled to his most recent calls, hitting Natasha’s name, laying it back down in the console, eyes glued to the road, frowning. He hated driving in mid-town traffic past eight p.m.; the hustle and bustle of people hitting the nightlife always made it a headache to navigate.
“Hey, Darling, are you almost here?” Natasha had a soft feminine voice that made her sound like a child most of the time, and he was hit with that pang of guilt at the fact he was doing this to her again.
“Hey, Tash. Look … I’m sorry, but I need to cancel our plans tonight. You go and meet everyone and enjoy dinner. I need to go deal with Sophie.” He waited with paused breath at the long silence which stretched between them, zero response as she took it in, and he could already picture the hurt expression on her face. Knowing that she was taking a moment to choose her words wisely and think about her reaction. Natasha was always someone who remained composed and liked to see everything from everyone’s perspective before flying off the handle. She was the picture of mature and refined, outwardly calm like him, and he guessed it’s why they got on so well. The complete opposite to Sophie, and usually why Sophie was the one to start major rows with her, pushing her buttons and making her snap, despite it going against Natasha’s nature.
“Again?” She inhaled desperately, no real anger in her even tone, only disappointment. He took a long slow breath, exhaling even more slowly, knowing that this wasn’t fair on her; it never was. Yet glad she was taking it well, despite bailing when he was supposed to be there already. Natasha had put up with so much in the past eighteen months that was causally related to Sophie.
“She’s a mess, and she’s alone at Randy’s bar. I can’t leave her there and I think it’s best if she comes back to my apartment tonight for a real talk. I can’t keep ignoring this.” He hated the second stretch of silence, knowing Natasha was seriously upset with him, but the anxiety concerning Sophie vulnerable out there far outweighed anything else.
“What good does talking do? She has been getting worse over the last year, and the last couple months she has had you run after her almost three nights a week, every week.” Natasha’s voice wobbled when she finally responded, and he knew the tears had started. He felt like shit for letting her down, but in this, he had made up his mind. He could see his friends and her another night when Sophie was safely back where she belonged, and nowhere near any form of danger.
“I haven’t actually sat her down alone in a long time and just tried … I need to do this my way. I’m worried about her, Tash, and I can’t just let her go on living like this.” The visual of Sophie crossed his mind and that same rise of anxiety that he was still stuck in traffic and not there yet. All he could picture was her big tear stained blue eyes and terrified face and he tapped his hand impatiently.
“Fine! You know you’ll do whatever you want anyway when it comes to her. Good luck, I guess. If you think it will make a difference then try, but we can’t keep on like this. I can’t keep on like this.” Natasha sniffed softly, no real anger; picturing her wiping her eyes, he frowned hard at the cab in front, willing it to move with more aggressive steering wheel tapping.
She was pissed at him, disappointed in ruining their night, but he knew she would get over it quickly. Deep down Natasha was a compassionate person, and in the end, she always agreed that he couldn’t leave Sophie to her own devices. Anytime the two women argued it had always been Sophie who sparked the girl-on-girl feud, and despite it all, Natasha just wanted to like her and get along for all their sakes. Natasha was a sweetheart and he knew she didn’t deserve this at all, she didn’t deserve the hard time Sophie always gave her.
“I know, and that’s partly the reason I need to do this. I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow. Have a good night with Nate and the guys; wish Lydia a happy birthday for me.” Arrick growled at the Cab driver in the guy’s mirror, urging him to move now the lights had changed, and getting hostile as hell, rapping his fingers loudly. He heard her sigh, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t coming, and not really the kind of girl to have a go when at the heart of this was Arrick’s caring side, his loyalty for his friend. She couldn’t be angry at that, even if it did interfere with them.
“I love you, Arrick.” Natasha added hesitantly that tender affection she said often, and it tugged at his guilt, his chest aching a little, knowing she hated being mad at him and this was her way of saying she understood.
“You too, Tash. Now go. Tell me how it went tomorrow. I’ll hopefully get through to her and have something positive to tell you.” He glared harder at the car in front and resisted the urge to hit his horn. His feet were ready to ram the gas.
“Goodbye, honey,” she breathed gently, lingering.
“Bye, Tash,” he answered distractedly.
He hung up before she did, getting seriously pissed with the yellow car now, weaving in and out and making it impossible to pass. If it weren’t for this asshole, he would have been there minutes ago and already scooping her up and out of harm’s way. He slammed his horn angrily and sighed with relief when the car pulled into the side to let him pass.
Thank fuck!
Sophie HuntsbergerI drag myself heavily through the crowded club once more, everything moving and tipping like I’m at sea, disorientated and foggy, although I’m less drunk than I was. My phone is still glued to my ear, even though I seem to have lost Arrick and hear nothing but silence. Pulling my cell down to look at the blank screen I realize my battery has died and I just sigh in complete deflation. Fed up with how my life is turning out lately as nothing seems to go right anymore.Taking a long deep breath to try to center myself into sobriety, my body sagging, drying my face halfheartedly with the back of my hand now that my tears have once again subsided, and my heart has resorted to numb emptiness. I don’t even care if my makeup is smeared or even cried off. Arrick has seen me worse so many times.I let my cell drop in my hand, beside my body and hold it loosely, too disconnected to really feel anything bu
Dionne played the role of girly best friend for weeks. Looking back, I now see that she was milking me for anything she could get; a never-ending stream of money on tick with promises to pay it back. My clothes, my shoes and now my man. Luckily, my cell was in the back pocket of my denim skirt, a habit Arry drilled into me from an early age. To always keep my cell phone on me in case I ever need him … no matter what. My lifeline to my boy.My other friends seem to have vanished as quickly. As soon as I stumbled out of the ladies’ room, tear-stained and lightheaded to find them, I realized I’d been abandoned. We all came here to get drunk before our main event; a huge party in some exclusive bar across Manhattan, and my time in the bathroom was long enough to get ditched. Again.This isn’t the first time they have all gone on to the next place and left me to it. None of them cares about me, they only care that I pay my share, or more, of t
I dropped out of school because I didn’t see any point in it, none of what I was learning interested me, and I sat drawing clothes, coloring in doodles of shoes in every lesson. My head on getting out and going to max my credit card on whatever hit the boutiques that week, daydreaming over the outfit I wanted to try out when I got home. Besides spending money on clothes, the only other thing which brought me joy was matching outfits for new looks, searching out shoes and accessories that made it all pop. Fashion is everything to me. I adore every aspect of it and love nothing more than customizing things with my own style, teaching myself to sew in my spare time. It’s one of the few genuine joys I seem to have.I broached the subject of fashion school only once; my parents dismissed it as frivolous and pointless and told me that I have the brains to do so much more. As much as I love them, and I really do, it crushes me in a way that they dismiss something I have
Arrick’s aftershave surrounds me like a sudden familiar haven, a solid shield of pure muscle and a beacon in the dark. That wave of cold turns to tingles and internal shakes of sheer relief, my body instantly slumping and falling forwards to lean into him as the adrenaline turns me into a mess of jellified uselessness.“I swear if you don’t turn around and walk off right now, then you’ll be taking all meals from a tube, Dickhead.” Arrick snarls in that husky Carrero tone of the most perfect male voice I’ve ever known. My boy! Like familiar soothing music that just makes you whole. Bristling with aggression and dwarfing the other man with his sheer build of alpha intimidation in all his glory.Arrick is hitting the six-foot-one mark, maybe more nowadays, and his build has gotten a lot wider and stronger since he matured and started professional fighting. He’s a vision of physical perfection that goes so well with the face of mal
Uncertainty sends my already fragile stomach into a washer-like frenzy, hating that being in tune with him means I am so sensitive to exactly this kind of thing.His car has been deposited on the sidewalk neatly, all four gleaming wheels on the concrete, of a sleek gray Mercedes he bought only weeks ago to replace his electric blue sports car. Arrick is growing up, leaving behind that young fast life, and settling down, and I don’t know how to feel about it. He’s changing, has been for a while, and I guess it’s one of the reasons we are not as close as we once were. He’s growing up and I’m too far behind him.We move to the car, where an exceptionally large black-coated bouncer is leaning against it casually, with a beaming smile as he sees us approach.“Arrick, my main man!” He grins and fist bumps him as we close the gap, still holding me firmly, heating up my body despite the chill around us and my lack of jacket. I s
“Arrick?” I glance his way again, hating his ignorance, the silence making it almost unbearable to continue being so quiet. I lean over to let my fingertips trail down his arm, over his black jacket meekly as the little tiny eruptions of anxiety play off inside me like fiery tingles. Trying to attract his attention and knowing he won’t ignore physical touch.I catch that tiny tensing of his jaw deepen, muscle twitching under his cheekbone, and know for certain he is more than just a little mad with me. He’s in closed off, livid as hell mode. My stomach sinks again, breathing slowly to push back the effects of the night’s drinking and the new waves of hurt that are directly connected to him.“Leave it alone, Soph
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Arrick lifts my chin back to him with soft fingers so that we’re nose to nose as he ducks into my much shorter height and bridges the large gap as best he can. He frowns hard at me and studies my expression for a second, before that boyish face completely calms to that softer expression I know and love. His genuine calm.Hints of a face that is so achingly familiar, and for a moment I forget why I am even crying, why I’m mad at him. He sighs slowly as though to reel back and comes at me with a new tactic that is less devastating to my soul.“Sophie? Talk to me,” he whispers, and it only pushes me that little bit further into remorse and hopelessness. I burst into painful heartfelt tears and bury my face in the open front of his jacket, against that expanse of hard chest as his arms come around me protectively, the warmth of his body heat encircling me along with the smell of him that could alw
This has been an aching cavern in my chest for eighteen months, as he slowly drifted away with the first throes of his first committed relationship, and a life in the city that didn’t include me. I’ve been losing him slowly and surely, and it’s contributed in part to why I started dating so many men. I was trying to find someone for me, someone that would care about me as much as he always did. I want someone to make me feel the way he does when he’s around: safe, loved, and secure. Like I’m home.“That’s not true.” Arrick makes to pull me back to him, but I step further away. Slapping his hands away childishly. Immature me peeking out to show face.“Can you name one time in the last year, or more, that you called me to just talk or to hang out; one time that you have been near me while I was sober, and not in need of being rescued? And I don’t mean the party invites or when we run into each other!&rd