CHAPTER494
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."
