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
“Sit.” Arrick pushes me down on the long mink colored fabric couch and then scoops down to unbuckle my shoes. I sink down obediently, lifting cold aching legs as warm hands encircle my ankles, and he slides down to rest himself on his own thighs. Lifting one foot at a time onto his knee, he unlatches me from my self-inflicted restraints and sets my burning feet free. I swear I love my shoes, but sometimes they just kill me. Whoever said fashion isn’t pain is a liar. He takes my shoes and moves off to lay them on the floor, pulling his jacket from my shoulders and throws it towards one of the armchairs.“Thanks.” I grin at him sleepily, more than aware he is only doing it as I moaned every step of the way from his car to the elevator about the agony I was enduring, my tiredness, my inability to stand to be upright anymore, and then used him as a crutch while wai
“Are you hungry? I’m starving! I was supposed to be at dinner now, a late one with Tasha.” He glances my way, catches my eye, and cutely furrows his brows at me.‘’I’m sorry. You can still go and leave me here. I promise I’ll just go to bed while you salvage your dinner plans. Go … I mean it.” I urge him warily, watching the lack of change in his expression, just intent on what he’s doing, and he shrugs with one shoulder as if to dismiss my suggestion. I feel worse than bad knowing he ruined his whole night to come scrape me off a club floor. Again.“I can call us a pizza or something. What do you fancy?” He completely blanks my suggestion about leaving me here, and I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want to go or if he thinks I can’t be trusted, and the second he leaves I will hightail it back to a nightclub. I watch his face for a second to analyze which it may be and se
“I believe you. I know you. Stubborn and headstrong and sometimes stupidly impulsive, but when you make a decision, Sophie, it is pretty hard to sway you at all. If you’re telling me that this ends here, tonight, that you want to go home and sort yourself out, then I’m with you. I believe you. I know you would never tell me just what I want to hear.” He glances across my face, letting go of my hand so he can brush my hair back and tucks it behind my ear tenderly, still close enough to breathe me in and I impulsively lean my head back against his shoulder.“I’m tired. I just want to think about one step at a time and let it all go. Let the pieces start falling into place tomorrow.” I sigh pleadingly, fully fatigued as waves of exhaustion flow over me to remind me how dead on my feet I am and curl my legs up under me to get comfy.“How about we just make like we used to? Pizza, a movie, and chill on the couch for the rest o
I wake up with a dry mouth, burning eyes and pounding head as the sound of music assaults my senses. Arrick has tunes pounding through the floors as I blink awake and realize I am still on the couch, face down, and the blanket is wrapped around my legs like freaking restraints. I feel like utter shit, and the table is littered with cold pizza and the scraps of a weird middle of the night scramble for food. We ate, fell asleep and woke up at the same time. Well actually, stretching out and slapping the back of my hand in his face was the catalyst for his grumpy rise from the dead, and he did try to push me off the sofa in retaliation.We raided the kitchen for munchies, watched another movie for like an hour while grumpily arguing over absolute pointless crap because we were both tired, and in my opinion, Tom Cruise is far hotter with an Irish accent and boxing gloves, than he is in either T
Arrick’s sat on the couch looking equally sparkly and clean this morning, I guess he used the shower in the spare room seeing as I was hogging his, and is dressed in a white tee that fits a little too well over black jeans. He has on black socks, but no shoes, and is sitting focused on his phone texting while he props his heels on the coffee table, looking like a kid himself like this. He smiles up at me when he sees me.“You look better, less crime scene massacre and more innocent little Sophabelle.” He pats the seat next to him and I notice the smoothie on the table beside his coffee. He always used to make me a morning smoothie when I stayed here, as he knows I am not a morning coffee drinker in the least. I can tell by the color that it’s banana and strawberry, my favorite. I beam his way, giddy on all that makes me happy today, now that the shower got me out of my grumpy ass morning mood.“Thanks for the ego boost.” I w