CHAPTER470
A loud buzzing noise rouses me from the hazy darkness when I realize I am in a bed that’s not mine, a familiar arm tossed casually across my waist and sheets pulled up over me to my chin. Confused and disorientated, I blink my eyes open, blurriness clouding my instinct to be concerned and begin looking for the god-awful noise with a groan.
Arrick groans next to me, reaching out to smack a nearby alarm clock and sends it crashing to the ground, except the noise perseveres and the next thing to meet hard floor is his cell as he swipes it off into the room, bringing silence once more.
I sigh, a moment of relief, followed by the sudden realization that I am in bed with him, his bed, in his old room at his parents” house, and completely naked. Filtering through snippets of being kissed, undressed and “oh, my God” he had his tongue on my …
I woosh awake fully, in utter shock, eyes snapping open properly as I turn my head to get a complete eyeful of toned and tattooed shoulder concealing half of his face, which is very still. His eyes still closed, despite killing the clock and his cell. He sighs heavily, shifts his head so he faces away and tenses his arm across my waist after a moment, as though suddenly realizing he has someone in bed with him.
Touché.
I pause, holding my breath as last night filters through my sleep-addled and still drunk brain. That immediate pang of anxiety at the memories I conjure up and knowing this is going to be awkward as hell. It seems he too has suddenly been reminded as his hand tenses again across me and he lifts his head suddenly, turning my way and blinking as he gets his bearings, looking half asleep and still drunk too. His hazy eyes focus on me, looking very hazel this morning and his face crumbles to a frown.
“Fuck!” He mutters under his breath in alarm, drops his face back down into his pillow, pulling in his arms to cradle his face and lets out a frustrated moan. He scoots across the bed and starts fishing down the side for what I guess is the cell he launched a moment ago. It’s like being sucker-punched in the heart and I react as though he has done just that.
“Gee, thanks for that.” I snap, despite the room still spinning, I throw back the sheets and jump out of bed angrily. Slamming around to find my discarded dress and underwear which was thrown around the room in last night’s crazy entrance. A combination of rage, hurt and complete fucking disappointment in myself for ever believing in him again, has me stamping my feet and acting like a psycho fueled with rage.
“Sophie, I didn’t mean it like that.” He croaks, pulling himself up to turn, seeing me naked and storming around the room, he looks away again with another moan.
“Jesus, Sophie, cover up for God’s sake, I can barely function as it is and that isn’t going to help me in the slightest.” He groans louder, dropping his face back down on the pillow and grappling with the sheets to try and wrap around his nakedness, using his face as a lever while he lifts his torso to pull it around himself.
“Fuck you! Weren’t complaining when you got me naked last night!” I snap again, a flicker of memory coming back at me, but still a little elusive. This time tears stinging in the back of my eyes and emotion threatening to choke me. Consumed with an agony that feels like glass shards tearing through my soul. I feel so fucking dumb. I should have known that last night was too good to be true, and here we are, back to square one and I’m waiting on him telling me it was all just another mistake.
I search for my panties but cannot locate them, giving up and continuing with my dress, sliding it over my head hastily, concealing my body. Arrick manages to haul himself up, wrapping the sheets fully like a toga around his waist before turning my way once more, a look of relief that this time I am dressed as I still search for my bag and shoes.
Where the hell are my fucking shoes?
“I didn’t mean it like that, this is …” He is cut off by the shrill tone of his phone ringing again and he curses under his breath, face a picture of complete bewilderment and looking around until he finds his cell on the floor under the edge of the bed. He reject buttons whoever is calling as I locate my bag by the door and find my bra under his side unit, stuffing it in my bag roughly. Glaring at him angrily, feeling stupid that I even woke up here with him, after telling myself I would never let him close to me again.
I feel like such a fucking idiot.
He moves as if to say something, but his phone bursts into life once more, whoever is calling is persistent and obviously desperate to get hold of him. He sighs, looking down at the screen in his hand and then back at me with an imploring look. He hesitates, does a double-take from cell to me and then looks like he may cry while I keep glaring at him as though I detest every single tiny part of him.
“I need to answer this. Please, just wait, gimme a second … it’s Natasha.” His voice drops dramatically and I almost bawl, right there, in that second, as it confirms my worst fear. Natasha is still a factor, and nothing has changed except disastrous drunken sex that he clearly regrets. If we can even call what happened that.
I dreamt last night of fighting and lashing out at an attacker in the dark and found myself encased in arms and legs as he was trying to calm me more than once. I don’t know how much was a dream and how much was what happened in my moment of zoning out or if I had slept fitfully and he had, in fact, kept consoling me.
“Go to hell.” I spit, emotion catching in my throat, so my voice sounds strangled. I turn on my heel and storm for the door, turning to say something scathing in departing, and pause as he holds out a palm, miming for me to wait and be quiet and I realize he is already on the phone. It only angers me more, as if I am a dirty little secret he is trying to hush up and boss around like he has any goddamn right.
He can go fuck himself.
“Tasha, hey.” He says softly, still motioning at me to wait frantically, but I only shake my head at him in utter disgust and look him up and down as though I am seeing him for the first time and don’t like what stands before me. Rage and broken ache tearing through me at speed, making me feel dirty and worthless in one fell swoop."
