The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

Chapter 119

Nate wanders towards me after finally taking his throw and surprisingly smashing a strike, grins at me and pinches my cheek in passing.

“Green is not a good color on you, kiddo. Arry ain’t a guy that deals with it either.” He reminds me and wanders off to pick Jenny up and throw a kiss on her; unusual for a guy who normally keeps his dates hanging on him and acts like he doesn’t give a toss. I start to wonder how much he feels for her after all. Clearly happy with his crappy bowling score and being weirdly affectionate for a fuck buddy.

I scowl his way, catch sight of Natasha throwing a hug on Arrick in the background, all smiles and doe eyes and he seems to endure it rather than give one back, but I spin away regardless, in a rage again. This time I really cannot control the wave of hate towards her, for even touching him, the urge to stomp over there and kick her multiple times in the face overwhelms me.

“Fuck you.” I spit back under my breath, not sure which male it’s intended for and seething so bad I almost pierce my palms with my nails. Christian lets me go, throws me a pained expression of solidarity, and turns too.

“Calm down. He is one hundred percent head over heels for you. She’s history and it’s pretty obvious to everyone. Arry would never go back there.” Claire cuts in, coming back to my side and nudges me softly, flanked by the two of them and Christian smiles at her.

“Smitten kitten alright, he manhandles this puppy more than most men handle their family jewels.” Christian beams at me with that deliciously wicked face and then saunters forward to retrieve his drink, leaving us momentarily alone. I frown a smile after him, not sure if what he said is meant to appease me. He is a funny one. Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

“I hate that he was with her in the first place.” I admit stupidly, suddenly realizing this is the first time I have come out and said it to someone. Strange that I pick Claire, she’s never been someone I confided in really. I always liked her and felt at ease with her though.

“We all know Arry, all saw what they were like as a couple. You have nothing to worry about, babe. He’s just being him, not an asshole like most of the men are in here. Right, Nate?” Claire tosses Nate a challenging look; no doubt an ex conquest of his from years ago, and he grins back, throwing an arm around Jenny’s shoulder with an uncaring shrug.

“What was he like with her?” Christian asks innocently, returning to my side with a pink fluffy cocktail in his hand that is dripping with glitter and I elbow him in the ribs; warning him with a scowl that this is not a cool topic, especially when I am in head ripping mood. I’m brimming on the psychotic here with a torrent of heavy rage waves ripping through my soul, despite the calm façade I have going on.

“Ooh, me, me, me.” The small blonde girl named Anna, sitting nearby and obviously listening in shamelessly, jumps up and joins our little gossip group, sniffing out a hint of turmoil no doubt. She seems like the type of girl who is always in the fold of a good drama.

“I’m totally in on this.” She giggles childishly, leaning in conspiratorially and very clearly in her element. I regard her coolly and realize she’s one that I have met before but hasn’t been around for long stints at a time. I wonder what she could know to be honest.

“Anna is the gossip queen.” Claire eye rolls with disdain, then laughs as Christian switches his arm from me to her and smiles wider, giving her the ‘you are my new BFF’ devious look and smarming over her a little too obviously. He is a shameless flirt when he has someone to extract information from and probably even more of a drama lover than Anna here.

“Spill it, Sista.” He winks at her and hits her with his sexiest ‘I know I am hot’ jaw-dropping smile that seems to melt her into a gooey puddle. She obviously missed the ‘I am Gay’ T-shirt he is wearing and the pink cocktail to hand. If James were here tonight, I am pretty sure he could be straddling him, and Anna would still fail to see the signs.

“Completely not happy. I mean, look at him, and look at her. Totally unmatched in every way. Arry is a wild little thing, seriously good in the sack ... According to rumors.” She blinks at me innocently, blushing a little and looking a little panicked that I may beat her around the head. I seriously do not want to know if he did, or didn’t, bang any of these women in here. I don’t want that thought to cross my mind at all, but I know it’s probably likely that at one point he has. Most of the girls in this group came from dating one of them and stayed when they either formed real friendships or started dating the one they stayed with. His past is his past and it is not going to get to me at all. I have no desire to be upset over stuff he did before me. Ironic really, seeing as I can’t seem to do the same with Natasha.

“Why have you never given us these details lady?” Christian frowns my way dramatically, demanding to know why I’m holding back how good he is in bed when I really don’t know. Not that I will ever admit it to any of them. I shrug coyly and make a locking motion across my mouth as if to say ‘A lady never tells’ and he narrows his eyes at me brutally.

“Go away.” I turn and try my best to ignore them as Christian prods Anna for more details, coaxing and questioning her with his eyes. I try to turn off my ears, avert my attention because I do not want to be a part of this, but I can’t help but listen in.

“She totally hated that about him, she’s a bit of a prude, not that into sex. It’s a wonder he stayed loyal for so long, considering he went from almost daily kinky banging to probably monthly, dutiful missionary style, judging by how pissed off he always seemed.” Anna seems to be relishing the audience she has and now another new girl has joined the mix, someone I don’t know. I think her name may be Susie or Sandra. I try and ignore them all crowding in for the juicy tidbits over my boyfriend and his ex and gawp at the fact that none of them thinks this is inappropriate in the slightest.

I stop and think about how different Arrick seemed over the last two years and don’t like to think it came down to sex or lack of, my head immediately jumping to our lack of and wondering if he wishes he could just find a normal girl. I pick up my food from the table and nestle between Jason, Claire’s husband, and Dave, Anna’s man of the night. Both of them are glued to their phones, silently watching

a basketball game, oblivious to the conversation happening feet away as I stuff more food in my mouth and stare at the little brood of gossipmongers, trying my hardest not to listen or even react. I know Arry would hate this, them all sitting dissecting his personal life, he’s always been so private and introverted when it comes to emotional stuff and I can see why. I hate it too and feel annoyed on his behalf.

“So, he wasn’t getting enough kinky or regular sex, huh? She does look a little ‘sex after marriage’ type.” Christian glances across at her again and I want to throw something at his head for being so obvious and encouraging this bullshit. I hate what they’re talking about, but I would hate to make that known; like some jealous immature girl who can’t accept he has a past. I keep quiet and pretend to be absorbed in my food, feeling sick from what I’m learning and adding to the weight in my chest.

“He’s obviously getting a lot of kinky sex now … judging by his constant good mood of the last month, and his inability to stop pawing Sophie.” Claire cuts in, throwing me a wink, she seems to be equally unimpressed with the topic and is eyeing them all up with a little bit of stern maternal frowning. I recoil inside.

I know she thinks she is reassuring me, because she is a lovely girl, and none of them would ever assume he wasn’t sleeping with me, seeing as he never stops putting his hands all over me. They all know we’ve been inseparable and he’s had some of them over for late-night movies and they know I stay over and share his bed. It’s only natural to assume we are having ourselves nightly aerobics, especially with his reputation for having a high and adventurous sex drive. But all she has done is make me obsess over the fact I’m not giving him anything of the sort. Not even dutiful monthly and boring sex. Nausea rises in my stomach and I push my food down with difficulty, that gut-wrenching pit of anxiety forming in my chest that threatens to flatten my lungs and close me in an airtight box.

I know he said sex wasn’t a big deal and we would come to it again in time, but it’s all that is going on through my head now, thanks to this little lot of nosey assholes and the fixation on his sex life.

If he was really that unhappy with her, how much did sex play a part?

“Hey you, move over.” Arry’s voice catches me off guard as he slides in beside me in what is now an empty seat, putting an arm behind me as he steals some of my fries. I notice the group break up and disperse at his return, guilty as sin and scattering to the wind as Claire gives me a shaking head sigh. I hand him the bowl, suddenly so nauseous that I can’t even stomach looking at them.

“You can have them, I’m not hungry anymore.” I push the hot dog his way too and his face tightens in reaction to my refusal of junk food. A huge neon sign that something is off.

“What’s wrong? It’s not like you to turn down food?” He leans in and brings his face to mine steadily, so he’s almost nose to nose, trying to get me close so he can dissect my expression. Gazing intensely at me.

“I’m just feeling a bit yucky, that’s all.” I pick up my Pepsi to wash the food out of my mouth and try not to push him away when he kisses me on the cheek. That same old urge to recoil from touch when I’m upset, only I know I’m being stupid about this and he has nothing to be blamed for. He looks completely gorgeous, even for being a thick shithead sometimes and those concerned hazel eyes are boring into my skull and making me feel worse.

“You want me to take you home?” He feels my face as though checking for my temperature and I pull my cheek away in irritation. Agitated as hell that the walls are closing in on me and I need to breathe.

“I’m fine.” I bite snappily, then heat intensifies in my face at how I am being; prize bitch comes to mind. Especially when he is doing nothing but being an attentive boyfriend, like he always is. I sigh heavily and push myself up from the seat in a bid to get some space and get my head together. Avoiding his eyes on me and knowing if I keep this up, we will have another Natasha related squabble in which he will make me feel like crap once more. I don’t want to fight with him, all I wanted tonight was for him to make me feel less messed up and cuddle me in. Now I don’t even want him to touch me.

Why am I such a weirdo?

“Take our next shot, I need to go to the bathroom.” I can feel his eyes on me as I stand, pushing out of our seating area and head for the ladies” room alone. Knowing this is stupid and I am punishing him for basically nothing. Even though he was dumb enough to go talk to his bitch ex and start this idiot bad mood of mine. I just feel completely gutted suddenly, upset, and closed off once more. No idea how to even deal with myself at the moment, so how can I expect him to?

Pushing through strangers and walking into the small enclosed space for air, I push the door open to the ladies’ bathroom at the back of the huge hall. Strolling in confidently, if not a little heavily, I walk to the bank of vanities and look at myself in the mirror. Hair sleek and perfect, makeup flawless and a dress doing a lot to make me look like a twenty-something sex kitten with long legs and curves for once. I look like a girl who is probably giving her boyfriend the best sex of his life, sassy and bold with an air of capability and feel like a fraud as I stare at my reflection numbly. I still have the grace and airs of a girl who knows how to have fun, the cheeky youthful face of a girl who knows how to work sex to her advantage, and the body of someone who gets a lot of attention whether she wants it or not. I look the part, yet he isn’t getting the package he probably thought he was. It just makes me feel worthless.

The cubicle door behind me opens as a girl walks out with her head bowed. I look down from the reflection of her in the mirror and rummage for my lipstick to touch it up while I’m in here, stalling for time so that I can simmer a little and not cause a major bust-up with Arry when I go back out. Trying to claw back my sanity and bring some sense of calm back to my muddled brain.

“Sophie?” Natasha’s familiar voice startles me, and I glance up in alarm, unsure how to react at all when I catch her staring at me in the mirror with wide eyed shock. Last time I saw her properly was the morning after Leila’s party, the only time before that was the night she caught Arrick and I making out, while I was naked, and his mouth was on my breast. I blush instantly, suddenly unsure how to react or what to say, so I go for a little smile instead, eyes glued to hers in the mirror. I drop my lipstick into my bag and fumble to close it, knowing I should make my excuses and get out of here.

She looks me up and down slowly, taking in my outfit, hair, and face with slow deliberation and an expression on her face that tells me nothing. I do the same and notice how odd she looks. Clothes too tight and short for what I’m used to seeing, far more makeup than she ever wore and a sort of trampy look to her entire style that seems messily pulled together. Her hair has been highlighted so it’s not as deep brown, a few inches shorter and she’s wearing heels I owned, like five seasons ago when ‘slut chic’ was actually a thing. She looks like a bad attempt at being me in my wilder stage, only with less class, and curly hair.

“You look … happy.” She says almost bitterly. Pulling her bag up and laying it on the vanity beside me as she starts fussing with her appearance, mirroring me but the atmosphere is suddenly heavy and strained. She has clearly tried to sex up her style and it looks wrong in so many ways. Like she’s playing at being someone else and that, matched with the wild drunk haziness in her eyes makes me a little wary of her. I don’t know this version of her at all.

“I … umm … yeah, I guess.” I stammer awkwardly, the urge to up and run coursing through me but I stand my ground. I’ve never fled from a real fight in my life and I will face her head-on if this is how it’s going to play out. Not that I want that though, despite my issues with her and Arry, I still would rather have some sort of civility between us if I must be here now. As hard as this is, I still owe her some sort of apology too, even if she doesn’t accept it, and as much as I dislike what she was to him and the fact she’s still clinging on like a bad smell, I still harbor some sorrow for how it went down. Especially knowing her father is dying. That clinging guilt inside of me which drives me insane is gnawing at my gut and cooling my temper successfully.

“Look, Natasha … “ I stop when I catch her glaring at me in the mirror frostily. No confusion to the spiteful and hateful look she is focusing on my face, and it takes me aback. I didn’t know she could pull this sort of nasty from her arsenal of pretty and sweet expressions.

“Don’t, okay. Whatever dumb fuck shit is going to come out of your mouth … just leave it. There’s nothing you can ever say to me that will make a difference to how I feel about you.” She slurs; the

swearing, the nasty tone, all of it is like a complete slap in the face from the girl she was before, and I wonder how much is the alcohol she has consumed and how much was waiting inside of her all that time. If sweet Natasha was an act all along to keep Arry under her thumb and this here is the real her, showing her true colors. I don’t want to think she could be that manipulative. Arry may be slow in the uptake in some things, but I know he’s insanely good at reading people sometimes and he wouldn’t have been blinkered for two whole years with just an act of sweetness.

“I only wanted to say I was sorry, that it was never meant to go the way it did.” I blurt out, somewhat in shock and she sneers at me cruelly. I honestly cannot get my head around this version of her and suddenly I don’t feel quite so sorry anymore. The fire in me igniting when faced with a snippy hostile tone and looks that act like daggers in my skull. This isn’t some sweet vulnerable girl facing me down, it’s a hardened bitch who hates me and I am all up in that for a takedown.

“Sure … Whatever. You spent years trying to get him and you finally did. Can’t believe I never fucking saw it until it was too late. You’re a manipulative spineless whore who clearly uses sex to get what she wants from him. I don’t even want to know how many times you two fucked behind my back before I caught you. Was so stupid not to see it and you both deserve each other. Don’t worry though, pretty sure he knows where I am when he gets bored of sex on tap from a slut and wants someone more substantial.” She snarls again, only this time her voice hitches and she stumbles in her shoes; catching the counter to steady herself and I inhale a lungful of alcohol breath coming off her. I resist the urge to shove her over and get satisfaction from watching her tumble off her heels. Instead, I bite down and grit my teeth, clench my fists into my bag to hold the temper in, that’s bubbling inside like hot lava.

“You know what? I was trying to be an adult about this but fuck you.” That good old Sophie temper snap at how she is being; insulted that I was only trying to be nice. I pick up my bag and sling it on my shoulder, make a point of fixing my hair and checking my appearance to show I will not be moved to hurry because of her.

“Maybe if you were fucking him to satisfaction, he wouldn’t have looked elsewhere, Tasha. Clearly something was missing if he had to come to me.” I snarl back, complete bitch mode executed and not caring if none of it is even true. I know I owe this girl a sorry, but I’ll be fucked if I’m going to stand here and take abuse from a snarly faced bitch who has been mercilessly stalking my boyfriend for weeks. I left, and she lost him anyway. That is not down to me, that is down to him, and what he wants.

Which is obviously me!

I turn to storm off and halt in shock as she bursts into a flood of tears in front of the mirror, so unexpected and like having a bucket of icy water thrown over me to cool my heated jets. Her bitchy tone dissipates, and she is nothing but a blubbering mess, grasping for tissues to stop her makeup pouring down her face, and I don’t know how to react. Anger bristling, temper engaged, yet that underlying guilt for her eating away at me and making me stand rooted to the spot when really, I should be storming out of here. I should be throwing back ‘I don’t care’ and sassily butt swaying my way out like a Diva. That’s what younger Sophie would do.

“Look at what you did to me.” She sobs into her mound of tissues pitifully, like a broken child who has just seen her kitten get run over. “Look at what I have become.” She picks up another wad of tissues and rubs her face manically, staring at her pathetic reflection and sobbing more at the chaos staring her back in the mirror. I turn and take in the mess she is making, feeling stupidly responsible and cursing my inability to embrace my bitch side fully at any given time. I sigh heavily, walking into a cubicle to grab some more and bring them out to dampen in water before handing them to her to clean her face. She regards me for a moment as though I have lost my mind and then takes them cautiously, suspicion evident and yet a tiny hint of gratitude that I even care enough to hand her them. It hits the guilt spot a little harder and I could honestly punch myself in the face for being so weak sometimes.

“I wasn’t having sex with him. Nothing else happened between us. Not until long after you two broke up.” I say with a sigh, hating how pathetic this makes me and not caring anymore about scoring points. I’m not that bitch and I don’t ever want to be. I’ve had a lifetime of being around bitches and I despise

all of them. She glances at me again and sniffs a little, the hate on her face calming a little and hints of the girl she used to be shining through. That air of vulnerability that seals my fate, hits me in the gut harder and I have to look away to regain composure.

“Really?” She seems like a wounded puppy in the reflection staring at me and I cave completely. As much as I dislike everything around us, if I knew her only as a girl I met in the bathroom, then I would probably hug her and console her about her idiot ex for letting her go. I hate complicated, it just bursts my head.

“Really. We kissed, a couple of times and nothing else, and then he chose you and I walked out of his life.” I look away from those interrogating eyes, rummage for wet wipes in my bag and hand her the whole pack in a bid to get her focus off me. Damp tissues are smearing what’s all over her face into a grey sludge and I have no desire to watch this girl look more pitiful with every swipe. I turn on my heel to leave her to her face and go to walk away, pretty sure there is nothing more to talk about anyway. We will never be friends, we never were. I don’t want the added burden of this conversation on my heavy heart tonight and I don’t want any more reason to convince myself that I am immature when it comes to hating her presence in our lives.

“I’m sorry about what I said to you. I trusted both of you, this wasn’t how my life was supposed to turn out.” She sniffs again, voice trembling and weak from behind me, and I weaken some more, heart sinking and body deflating. Hatred for her waning and guilt reigning supreme when faced with genuine heartbreak; I hate that I’m this easy to manipulate at her gentle hands.

“I’m sorry it came down to you or me, it was never the plan. I’m sorry you got hurt, that one of us had to.” I reply sadly, with genuine remorse in my torn tone. Hating the heavy pit in my stomach that is for her. I don’t wait for a response, my eyes misting and face aching with trying not to cry, as I walk out of the bathroom at speed and head back into the bowling alley in a bid to get away from everything she makes me feel.

People in my way, making me even more agitated. I spy Arrick and my friends across the crowded room, still in the booth laughing, having fun and generally oblivious to what’s taken place, feels surreal and I’m no longer in the mood to be here.

“You look serious.” Nate’s voice startles me from the left, carrying a tray of fresh drinks; beers mostly, and I guess they are all moving onto alcohol now everyone’s had enough food. For some reason, every social occurrence with this lot turns into a few drinks when evening hits, not that I mind, it’s just that I’m not in the mood anymore.

“Natasha was in the bathroom when I went in, not exactly the best moment of my life.” I shrug, knowing Nate can be a good ear when he wants to be. Despite his ‘screw everything in sight’ personality. I don’t know why I’m sharing when I don’t even want to regurgitate it. I guess I needed to say it, to let it go.

“Wanna talk about it?” He offers, nudging me towards them, but I hesitate, seeing Arrick in the clearing laughing and pushing Jason over a seat. It makes me fold and start moving towards him, forgetting everything, and seeing my beacon of calm and stable ahead. He is too alluring to not want to go to when I feel this shitty; he just makes it better. His laugh alone has me wanting to be back beside him, wrapped in those arms he always throws my way and I go into blinker mode, setting my sights on where I need to be.

“Nope. Just forget it.” I smile at Nate tightly and then focus on the body that is calling to me like a siren and only becomes more alluring when he catches my eye and throws me a sweet little wink and smile. That little finger gesture that says ‘Come here, baby’ and I’m powerless to do anything but obey.