CHAPTER398
I’m in my bedroom, after showering and pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, after breakfast, looking a lot more like the wholesome kid of days gone by, rather than the hot mess of clubbing from days ago. My hair is up on top of my head in a messy bun of sorts, and I am texting back a so-called girlfriend ‘Sissy’ in New York. Finally, my absence has been noted, and now that I am clear-headed and have some distance, I can now see how shallow these people really are.
She didn’t text to see how or where I was, she only wanted to know if I was bringing my gold card to the next party to fuel the champagne supply. I have only ever been a source of freeloading for these girls; taking my designer clothes and shoes, which I take great pride in hunting down with every new season release and crashing in Ambers’ apartment anytime they saw fit. I haven’t heard from Terry, not that I expected I would, or even care, or any of the guys from my old group of friends and throw my phone aside in irritation. I flop back on the bed, pulling my fluffy pink unicorn, Princess Snuggles, over my face and sighing out loud.
How I went months, blind to these people and how little they give a shit about me, is crazy. It’s no wonder I was falling to pieces and feeling worthless when I was surrounded by self-centered dickheads who used me and discarded me effortlessly. I was looking for completion and set myself up for serious loneliness. I squeeze the stuffed toy tightly and quell the urge to scream into its little soft belly.
“You could replace the bear with me. I hug back.” The familiar male voice catches me off guard as I yank the unicorn away and snap my eyes to the open door with a heart hammering jolt. Arrick stands leaning against the door jamb a little sheepishly, and I have to stop myself from having a visible reaction. My heart catapults into my mouth at speed suddenly, as nervousness I have never known around him, envelopes me. I pull myself to sitting and tighten the hair bobble on top of my head. Averting my eyes to the toy I’m now picking at awkwardly while trying to appear completely normal.
“Why would I want to do that?” I murmur quietly, torn between still being hurt and mad at him, and not knowing how to behave anymore. I was so sure he’d gone back to the city by now, to her, and not standing in my bedroom doorway, looking every bit like a fantasy man in a casual T-shirt, jeans and sneakers. Devastating my insides in ways I have no way of dealing with now I not what it is. Having something made crystal clear for you changes everything you do after, and right now, my entire body is only too aware that what I am feeling is in direct connection to knowing I love him.
Fuck.
“Because I could do with a forgiveness hug after being an asshole yesterday. Saying things I didn’t mean. Tell me what you need to forgive me, Sophs.” He smiles my way, voice remorseful and eyes a little soft. I catch his eye and glance away shyly, completely freaking out with how not normal this feels and how crazily cute he is when he’s being this way. All I am seeing is hazy brown eyes over dimpled sexiness and my heart is an instant mass of freakin butterflies.
Jesus. H. Christ.
“Maybe I don’t forgive you,” I whisper, resisting the urge to recoil when he walks over and climbs on the bed, close to me. He stays on his knees a moment, so he towers over me, his hand coming out to mess with my hair childishly. I slap his hand away and pull my knees in, cuddling Princess Snuggles into my abdomen in a bid to feel more in control, less likely to you know, lick his abs or throw myself at his mouth.
God, why have I never noticed just how kissable those perfect pouted lips are?
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Looking like a kid again, Sophs. Are you back to sulking like one, and making me suffer for being a shithead?” He flops down on the bed beside me, so he’s sat on his butt and more level with my height, while trying to hook an arm over my shoulder, but I lean away so he misses, and try not to jump off the bed like a loony whose pants are on fire. I feel like an absolute freak. Hating that three little words can destroy the peace and calm I always felt with him. “Don’t stay mad at me. I hate it when you’re pissed at me.” His husky deep voice is even lower today, gentle, and somehow even more devastating to me as he tilts his face in tantalizingly close. I can smell everything that is good about him and my heart lurches in pain making me immediately claustrophobic with the five thousand sensor alarms going off in my body. I literally think I may have another panic attack at this rate.
“I’m not mad at you anymore.” My voice breaks and I slide away fast, out of reach of his embrace, unable to bear his touch anymore and afraid of him trying. He’s always just effortlessly touched me with innocent touches. Except now, to me, the innocence is gone, and I know a single touch will cause me pain.
“What’s wrong then? You’re acting weird as hell if you’re not sulking. Didn’t you sleep?” He watches me move around the room, primping and preening items that are already neat and tidy, just an excuse to wander. I don’t want to turn and look at him, casually nestled on my bed like he belongs there, sitting all wide shouldered and muscular, with strong thighs and way too many male hormones for a pink and fluffy bedroom.
“Yeah, I’m tired,” I reply flatly. Not sure how else to explain the absolute weird way I know that I am behaving. It’s like I have lost all ability to even talk to him anymore. My voice clogging up in my throat with a surge of overwhelming pain at his presence. I try to avoid looking at him and just will him to leave until I can at least pull myself together.
Moving to the window, looking outside to the sea view to try and hone my thoughts and emotions into one steadier more manageable block, rather than this messy, all over the place shambles. I fall to pieces when his breath tickles the back of my neck, sending a thousand tiny goosebumps across every inch of my skin and flutters in my stomach. I freeze as his arms slide casually around my shoulders from behind and he nestles against me, his jaw against my hair above my ear. I don’t move, afraid to breathe, afraid to let myself react in anyway, and try to push down all the confused signals my body starts sending out in every direction. Suddenly aware of how much we have touched each other over the years, how abnormal this really is for two platonic people who are not related. The lack of boundaries we have considering my past. I’m so confused.
“Sophs, I’m sorry. I know I walked out after saying I would be here for you, but I’m trying to make things right. I hate when we fight. We we’re both tired and emotional and being shitty and impulsive and letting nonsense fall out of our mouths. Can we just start over?”
His body moves around me like a protective shield, but instead of the safe haven and relaxed feeling it used to give me, I shift into high alert, overly aware of where exactly parts of his anatomy are touching me and trying not to. I can pretty much feel his trouser snake nestling in between my butt cheeks in an overly sensual way that makes my stomach erupt in fire and shame. I shrug out of his embrace a tad harshly, heart thumping through my chest and literally feel like I am about to join Leila in the bat shit crazy ranks.
“Stop ... I can’t. It’s fucking with my head.” I blurt out insanely. Pulling myself back against the wall defensively, hoping space will calm the tidal wave of tingles coming from my toes, as I turn on him, disrupting the table beside the window. I send all the trinkets and perfume bottles clattering over noisily and reach out to stop the biggest one smashing.
“Sophs, what the hell has gotten into you?” Arrick frowns hard at me and moves to pick up a bottle that rolls towards his foot. Even watching all that wide muscle and perfect male body scoop and stoop and fluidly straighten up to his tall height and bring that way too handsome face back to me, I snap inside. My body heating in places I have never had it heat, tingles low down around there and suddenly I’m breathless and reeling, and yup, about to have the most god-awful panic attack.
What in the actual fuck?
“Nothing; I think you should go ... I don’t feel well, and I need to lie down.” I stammer, trying to cool my body and calm my breathing from this hormonal overdrive that has erupted inside me, but his gaze only narrows at me. Heat creeping up my face, my hands shaking, and I just need him to move, like five feet backwards to let me breathe.
“Why are you lying to me? You never lie to me.” Arrick looks wounded, moving a step closer as he scrutinizes my face, but all I can do is stop him with a flat palm to his chest. I can’t have him touching me, not anymore.
I really am losing the plot.
“I can’t, please don’t make me.” The sob catches in my throat and my eyes fill with moisture, desperately fighting myself internally and wracked with extreme confusion.
“Sophs, you’re worrying the shit out of me, what’s wrong with you? Don’t make you what? Forgive me? That makes no sense; I can’t force you to not be mad at me.” He half smiles, half frowns with the question, looking down at the splayed hand on his chest and slides it away, by covering my fingers in his and yanking me towards him. “Stop being weird and come here.” He laughs, shaking his head at me and moves to pull me closer, his other hand hooking onto the belt loop at my waist, tugging my pelvis into his groin with a gentle thud. This one little innocent act sends me completely over the edge.
“You can’t touch me like that anymore...It’s not right... we shouldn’t… I mean, it’s not proper … Because, it isn’t, in anyway … because … you just have to not, okay … just don’t… I mean, it’s not cool … when ...I … I … love you!” I blurt it out as panic envelops me and I experience extreme verbal diarrhea, rambling like an insane person as his body molds to mine a little too well. Hysteria catches as I try like crazy to twist myself away from him and separate us from this intimate position.
“What are you talking about? I love you too, Sophs. Touch you in what way?” He’s still trying to angle me in for a hug, completely oblivious that I’m trying like mad to keep parts of his anatomy well away from malfunctioning parts of mine, and seems to think I am probably just struggling because I am still pissed at him. I duck out under his arm and hightail it to my bedside table, breathing hard as tears start falling down my face in utter frustration.
“Sophs, what the hell?” He turns with a smile, but on seeing my tears, stops in his tracks, a concerned frown overtaking those beautiful features. “What is it, Mimmo? Are you really this upset with me? I’m sorry, you know I can be narky sometimes, but it doesn’t mean anything. I didn’t mean anything I said. I’m an asshole.” He moves towards me, but I hold up shaky palms in complete soul-destroying desperation. Panic sweeping me fully.
“I love you.” I almost spell it out to him because I have to, slowly and firmly, voice trembling painfully, raising my eyebrows as I say it carefully, while looking him dead in the eye. I don’t know how else I can make this clear, while still trying to come to terms with it myself. This isn’t something I’m accustomed to, and never thought I would ever be saying it to anyone in this way, let alone him.
“Okay.... You said that ....” Arrick stops after two steps, almost as though something registers mid-stride and his face falls instantly. He seems to take a moment to think, that frown crossing his beautiful face and the slight tense look he gives me. Instant stiffening of his body that says he just clicked. “By love? … Sophs … What do you mean?” A hint of panic washes over his normally tanned skin, lightening to a paler hue as something ripples through that sharp brain."
