CHAPTER552
I glare at him and don’t even let him finish
“Forget it, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to lie down.” My tone is deflated and obviously emotion torn. I don’t want to fight, I don’t want to burst into tears, even though it’s brimming under the surface. I want to get away from him and clear my brain and maybe after a nap, it won’t feel this huge of a deal. I make a move to head to the door which I remember is the master bedroom from the floor plans, further down the hall, but he’s fast and in front of me first.
“That’s not what I did. She was showing me a bunch of designs and shit and you were stressed already. I just okayed a color palette and said make it like our home. I didn’t ask her to leave out anything you picked… I swear. I just asked her to tone down all the sparkly, fluffy, unicorn stuff, so that you could add your own later.” He’s completely serious, giving me puppy eyes and I shake my head at him angrily.
Tone down the Sophie?!?!?! What the actual ….
For the love of… Arghhhh
“What about the stuff I gave her? Things I wanted, things you agreed to? I GAVE HER THOSE! What about my feelings and choices, huh? What about the god damn mood boards she made us fill up? And the items I bookmarked on websites! What the fuck was all that for? I spent weeks on those; weeks I should have been studying instead of doing crap I clearly never needed to.” I’m closer to tears now he’s stopping me; hating this dumb stupid room already as he slides his arms around me, slowly, cautiously. He’s annoyingly calm and treading lightly, but it makes me madder.
“I didn’t think she would disregard all that. I guess I never made it clear… Look, we can redecorate, we can start over if you really hate it that much. I’ll call her and tell her I want everything you picked out, pay her to do it all again.” He lowers his face to me to push his forehead to mine, the way he does when he’s trying to win me around or coerce me into making out. I shove him in the abs, making him flinch. Anger spiking from deep down inside of me like a hot volcano suddenly letting rip.
Like I want that stupid bitch back pawing at him at every opportunity, just to disappoint me again. If she spent more time listening instead of checking him out, then maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“You hate it all don’t you? What I’ve done to your apartment?” I blink up at that oblivious expression, wounded that I’ve lived with him for a full year and not once has he said, ‘Sophie you have shit taste in décor, and I hate it.’ I wish he would have just been honest with me, instead of this crap right here. If he had just said ‘Sophie, less of the unicorns and I fucking hate glitter’ and gave me some sort of heads up.
I’m crushed in this moment. My stomach and chest ache at the effort of trying not to bawl and he’s being his infuriating emotionless calm self that makes me want to throat punch him. He just doesn’t get the depth of this issue right here.
“No… I love your little touches.” He looks insincere, a tiny twinge in that sexy squared jawline that conceals a smile. He thinks I’m being dramatic, and my temper rises. Cute boy looks, and soft hazel eyes are doing nothing for him right now. That smug little twinkle is a huge tell because he’s a bare faced lying asshole!
“Oh my god… You do hate it!” I yell it at him, blanching, as I shove him away harder and the instant shock on his face goes from insincere to guilty as hell, increasing my rage. Stomping away, glaring hatefully and right now I actually do want to punch him in the head. It’s so close I can almost taste it.
“It’s not that I don’t like the fluffy cushions and three hundred identical throws… or the army of silver unicorns and excessive amounts of candles we never light but…” It’s the slight tone of sarcasm that gets me, that hint of indulgent attitude and my temper heightens. He’s trying to be cute and sass me, confirming his dislike of all my décor choices.
Boy does he have no clue who the sassy one is in this relationship.
“I swear, if you finish that sentence, I will hurt you.” I glare at him coldly, incensed, outraged that after a whole year he’s coming out with this shit. A whole year of letting me fill our space with things I like… The truth comes out now! He stifles a smile, because he thinks it’s cute when I get mad over ‘weird stuff’ and tries to avoid my glare as I erupt.
“You’re an asshole… you said you liked what I was adding to the apartment. You said I made it feel homelier, that I was bringing life to the place, making it cozy! You’re such a fucking liar.” I spit at him, trying to simmer my inner outbursts as I stomp over to the nearby bookcase. Seeing a row of old novels and vague titles that neither of us would ever read, I shove them back, so a couple fall behind the space, not caring if I’m being childish. I need a physical outlet, a form of venting. I’m wounded. My boyfriend is one huge, lying dick head of a man, and he can go back to New York and leave me alone. He can take his ugly décor with him and I can be done with both and be left alone here to make it as fucking sparkly, pink, unicorn infested as I like, and wallpaper with pink glitzy faux fur for all I care.
“I didn’t lie to you, baby. I do… I just like when things are less … sparkly.” He’s trying to soothe with his tone, but his words are not helping. His submissive pose and pleading cute boy face; the one he pulls out whenever he’s pissed me off. None of that is helping him, especially when I know him well enough to know it’s all an act. He is saying what he thinks will smooth my mood and pat down my ruffled feathers.
King of all assholes.
I storm from the shelves before I get the urge to throw something at him and grab a throw pillow from the couch instead. It’s made from some sort of fur, like real fur; flat, smooth rawhide kind of fur and I grimace as I touch it. It’s awful and I am so anti real fur!
I turn and throw that at him in disgust instead, trying to vent some of this spiraling energy inside of me that’s fit to burst out. He dodges and frowns, still trying not to smile and I do not see what is funny about this at all. Never understood his complete infatuation with my tantrummy side, or that he finds it both cute and amusing when I am on the verge of causing him bodily harm.
He is so fucking weird.
“You can keep your shitty apartment then. You want it this way, you can have it back this way. Pretty sure I can still get mine back, seeing as Jake rented it out and never sold it. Go home and take it back … bin all my sparkly shit and burn my fucking Unicorns.” I sulk, tears hitting now, because I’m tired and when I’m tired, I’m an emotional nightmare. Even I know I’m being psychotic, but sometimes, Arry just brings it out of me. And this shit here, this apartment. It just sucks.
I hate it. Hate what it represents. That my boyfriend thinks my décor tastes are sucky, and clearly hates our home that I thought we were happy in for the past twelve months.
Arry stands for a moment, typically cool and visually unaffected, like always. He picks up the cushion as he sighs and stares at me contemplatively. Unsure whether he should say anything or not. He has that look which says, ‘trying to choose between acting scared, or being indulgent’. It’s filtering into that thick head that I’m serious about this and it’s not just jet lag or Sophie being her grumpy tired asshole self, or ‘hangry’, even though I am also starving. Food won’t fix this! I’m genuinely distraught.
“I didn’t think it would upset you this much… I figured you wouldn’t notice and that you would probably fill it up with stuff you bought here anyway.” The soft voice, the smooth tone of a guy trying to appease me, because he knows he fucked up. I know him too well and I turn my back on him. I hate that since we got together, it’s so much easier for him to hurt me in such dumb, stupid, meaningless ways. Being in love with him, gives him way too many tools to wound me. Best friend Sophie was way more emotionally stable and immune to the stupid shit he did.
“I’m sorry, baby… I don’t know what else to say. I’m an insensitive jerk and I never thought about how you would take this.” He moves to me, his body heat seeping through my thin cotton dress as he gets painfully close, his breath on the back of my neck and I tense. Warning him not to touch me. I really will knee him in the balls if he thinks touchy and cuddly will sway me.
“Yeah. Cos telling me that you hate my taste and don’t actually like what I’ve done to your apartment is not hurtful at all.” I sniff as tears hit my cheeks, despite my efforts to hold them, shaking my head at all of this. He sighs heavily, the warmth of his breath flutters down the back of my dress, telling me he is right behind me and I shiver with the sensation. My skin goosebumps involuntarily and makes my stomach flip with little butterflies. Even mad at him, he still makes every part of my body react to him so effortlessly.
“I love you, and I’m an asshole.” His fingers come up and gently trace the back neckline of my dress, moving my hair and making my skin erupt in tingles. I know what he’s doing. What he always does when he upsets me and is trying to make amends. He wins me round with soft touches, sweet words and gentle Arry that I normally have no resistance to. I’m stronger than that and this is one step too far. It’s not just a stupid thing, it’s a huge thing, that I can’t just let him brush away.
“Sometimes I hate you.” I sulk back. Refusing to let him weaken me, retorting in good old-fashioned childishness.
“Ouch, that stings. You know how to make me bleed, baby… Hate me even if I let you fill every room with sparkly, pink, fluffy, unicorn themed and a million candles you forbid me from lighting?” the lighter tone in his voice, the “I’m sorry” huskiness gets me and I lift my chin a little higher in stubbornness, stiffening my spine. Refusing to sway so easily over something this big. He won’t win me round with sweet boy antics this time.
“Why? Just so you can hate this place too?” I mumble drily as I move forward, to get his fingers off my skin, his breath off my neck. I’m stronger when he’s not making me react to his proximity and more able to withstand his power over me.
“I don’t hate what you did to our apartment, and it is ours, not mine… Like this place is. I was wrong, baby. I just okayed the first ones she showed me for a quick move. I wouldn’t be happy in our New York pad without all the little Sophie touches. I missed them when they were gone. You do make it feel like home, I love coming home to it, feeling you in every detail and you’ll do the same here.”
“Hmmm.” I huff loudly. Softening despite myself.
“Pretty sure you will also punish me by maxing my credit cards in the next week too, to make up for it. Drag me to every boutique in Paris and carry a shit load of bags and boxes for you.” He moves to me again, this time running his fingers down my arms, making me tremble, and soothing me a little with fast words and offers to let me spend all his money. Arry always knows how to play me and brush away my tantrums and moods, even when I think he has no chance. My tears have stopped, and I wipe them away moodily, still trying to make a show of being unimpressed. He isn’t getting off that lightly.
“Better up your limit… or add a couple more cards.” That heavy ache in my stomach lifts a little as I let go some of the churning hurt and regain control now the shock of arrival is wearing off. Looking around defeatedly and still sighing with how disappointing it is.
It’s not my home.
“This is really going to cost me isn’t it? And I don’t just mean in terms of money.” He sighs too as I turn and glare at him over my shoulder, wickedly. Those beautiful hazel eyes focused on me; that soft look of a guy who is completely smitten and trying to appease his stroppy love. He has become a master of doing just that in the time we’ve been together, and I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes.
Arry can too though, and no one makes me as crazy as he does sometimes. Even if he is still the hottest male I ever encountered on the planet and still has a sexy body that I never tire of looking at. If anything, in the past year he has grown even more manly and matured. He’s beyond irresistible to me.
“Hope your couch that you picked is comfy… The bed’s mine.” I raise a brow and push him back with my butt playfully. Lifting my chin defiantly as I stalk off towards the bedroom once more while trying to kill the smile that’s aching to spread across my face. Smirking at that one little punishment that gets to him every time.
“Baby? Really? … I’m sentenced to the couch? … Sophie? Come on?” He follows me, but not fast enough and I’m in the bedroom down the hall before he is. Shutting the door in his face as he catches up, with a sense of utter satisfaction. I turn to look at what I expect to be another punch in the face room, getting ready for another wave of hurt feelings at decor that I hate, and soften when I see it’s not. In fact, it has the complete opposite effect on me.
It’s a huge bed, with a million furry throws and cushions, surrounded by fairy lights and a whole romantic vibe in here. Same neutral palette that we agreed on, yet the prints I chose are all hanging in here and there’s a mirrored vanity with a display of ornate perfume bottles. Huge candle filled lanterns hanging in one corner at different heights, by a large organza layered window that looks out over the twinkling streets of Paris in a surreal way. There’s even a silver statue of a unicorn nestled on the sill, just peeking out at me like a little surprise treasure. It’s beautiful and exactly what I envisioned when I set up those endless mood boards. My heart somersaults and my mood lifts enough to put a smile on my face at least.
The knock on the door of a guy that knows he’s in the doghouse, makes me grin, interrupting my star struck moment, and I sigh as I look about once more. Trying not to give away that I’m softening a lot after seeing this room as I still think I owe him a little suffering.
Why deny the guy some groveling practice when he’s clearly needing a little work?
So maybe he can be forgiven for his man room out there, if the rest of the apartment looks like this. It’s not so bad. These are things I chose; this room screams of me and exactly what I love, and I can imagine us curled up together in it already.
The door opens slowly, and he edges in, apprehensively; probably bracing himself for something to be thrown at his head and glances at me in mild surprise when he sees me calm and semi smiling. A half smile on his cute face brings out his dimples I adore so much. I have to sometimes remind myself that his pretty face is not a reason to forgive him any time he is a moron, but it’s just so hard. Arry is such a gorgeous specimen and with the right look, dimples on show, I’m weak.
“This room I was a bit more specific about… Seeing as it’s where we do spend most of our time.” He edges closer, testing the water with trailing fingers across my wrist as he comes in behind me, hand sliding around my waist gently and pulling me back against him snugly when he gets no hint of resistance. I surrender a little too easily, even while my stubborn self is telling me to make him suffer a little longer.
“Except you won’t… Cos, you know? Couch!” I cross my arms as his hand edges upwards and block his attempt at a seduction move. Arry does like to cop a feel of my boobs at every opportunity and I’m not in the mood to be yielding to that Carrero libido just yet. I can’t just back down so very quickly, he has to learn that you don’t mess with a woman’s decisions. If I let Arrick get it easy he’ll walk all over me with that stubborn head and messy mind. He needs a little guidance in how to be a good boyfriend. Our whole happy vibe relies on it. He’s a trying man at times and needs me to take him in hand more often than not.
“I am not sleeping on the couch on our first night in our new place.” He nuzzles my neck with his soft teasing mouth, trailing little pecks up towards my hairline, trying to be smooth about his attempts at winning me round."
