L.T. Marshall
Sophia
I’m trawling my phone messages after we finish eating, my sister reminding me of her anniversary party this coming month. Leila has been married only three years, but this is an annual event that no one misses if they want to remain physically unharmed. Sort of the highlight of everyone’s year and a chance to glam up and get the party groove on. I reply, informing her I’ll be coming with two guests, Jenny and Christian, as they have promised to be my strength at a party I know he will be at. Even the Carreros never miss Leila’s parties, what with the two families being almost family in themselves, and the last thing I need is to rock up alone and come face to face with the dream couple acting like they never knew me at all.
Yeah, that won’t be awkward at all. Or painful in the slightest!
“You done, kitten?” Christian’s smiling my way, throwing down his napkin after settling the bill, despite all my pre-warning that this was on me. He’s a sneaky boy, always diving in with that damn chivalry that I used to love so much about someone else. It irks me right now.
“Hey, I said I was paying!” I protest as I spy the receipt on the plate, but he only grins back devilishly. Christian’s family is much like mine in that I never want for anything. Well off and generous to a fault; we both come from wealthy homes and have more than comfortable allowances to live on.
“I pay for my girls.” He smiles again, but I only eye roll, as Christian constantly implies that Jenny and I are his “women.” However, we all know he has been secretly dating a senior fashion student a couple of years above us, who has not yet come out of the closet. James is his blue-eyed boy with a severe fear of being “outed.”
Christian holds his hand out to me as he slides from the table, impeccably dressed in jeans and a button-down that only emphasizes his toned body. He’s not overly tall for a guy, around five feet ten, but he’s perfectly proportioned and muscular. I take it graciously and let him pull me to his side, keeping our fingers entwined. Christian is a very affectionate soul. He loves nothing more than manhandling Jenny and me constantly and likes to walk everywhere arm in arm, or hand in hand, usually with one of us on each side. He reminds me of Arrick that way, and I’m forever trying to stop making that connection.
“Is my princess ready to go?” He glances down at my chair, checking I have everything as I nod with a huge smile. Christian always makes me feel like smiling. He’s one of those friends who put sunshine in your day just by being there. Always a gentleman and a lot of lovely. When he’s not being an overly dramatic nightmare of a queen, of course.
“I am.” I giggle at him as he tugs me against him to settle my arm in his like an old biddy and links fingers loosely, ready to walk out of the restaurant. He moves the chair aside and guides me towards the door, away from our table and onto the wide walkway that clears up the center.
“Sophie?” A male voice halts me from behind, my body bristling at the familiarity of it. The undeniable tone and hoarse sexiness send my stomach into an instant nosedive, and my nerves immediately tingle. I can barely conceal my reaction, tensing on Christian’s arm as I wince in something similar to pain. I turn towards the source impulsively, my heart thudding heavily, even though every part of me tells me to walk away.
My heart is pounding like it’s gone into shock as I turn slowly, tense and scared at what I know will hurt worse to see. Months of nothing at all, and the one day he’s been plaguing my head mercilessly, more than any other day, he physically appears.
Arrick Carrero is standing straight as a rod a few feet away, obviously just arriving with two men behind him, all casually dressed, and I recognize one of them as someone he regularly hangs out with. The familiar face casts a friendly smile, a nod of recognition that I return with a half-smile before bringing my focus back to Arry. I don’t know how to react, so I grip Christian’s fingers harder, begging him to help me. He squeezes them back silently. His little show of support.
“Hi.” I breathe weakly, unable to hold the gaze of those perfect hazel eyes in that flawless, clean-shaven face. Not a thing about his appearance has changed, and he’s still as devastating to my soul. He looks like the guy I miss in every little tiny way, and it only hurts me irreversibly that he seems so normal and unaffected by finally seeing me again. There is definite weirdness and uncertainty in how I should act, and I feel like I don’t know him anymore. My heart is playing the rhumba, and my legs go weak as blood courses to my heart in a stupendous fashion. Physically I’m dying. Outwardly I am still and cool like he always was.
Christian lets go of my arm, unhooks his fingers, and slings a supportive arm around my shoulders. He knows who Arrick Carrero is; any hot-blooded admirer of gorgeous men in New York knows who he is, and he knows the backstory between Arrick and me only too well. A night of wine and movies ended up with my sobbing my heart out and confessing the whole sorry story to the two of them at stupid o’clock one Saturday night. They know every detail and decided he should earn the crown of “idiot of the century” for letting me go.
Arrick narrows his eyes a fraction, a slight tension to his jaw as he tries not to run his eyes over the way Christian is draped around me. I see the subtle tells. Not sure how to take it at all. Not sure I should even care if he doesn’t like it. I owe him nothing anymore.
He hurt you, remember. Discarded you like you meant nothing.
“How have you been?” He clears his throat as his two companions wander off further in the direction of their table, leaving him alone with us. It’s wholly awkward, and I resist the urge to fidget, aware of how my heart and soul quiver at his mere presence and alert me to the fact that three months have not changed a lot between us. I still fall to pieces at the sight of him, my heart aching, and the sudden sadness of realizing I still love him hits me in the gut. No matter how often I’ve told myself I’d never need him again, never want to… Here we are.
He looks like him. Flawlessly pulled together, emotionally cool, and stunning as he always was. Hair spiked on top, lighter in color, freshly cut, clean-shaven, while those brown eyes are a lot greener today. Then I guess seeing me would stress him out, especially if he swore to Natasha that he would never have anything to do with me again. He doesn’t go back on his word, ever.
Well, unless it comes to me. I guess promises made to me don’t mean anything when it comes to her.
“I’m good, just getting on, and you know? … I have school.” I answer unsurely, lost for words, my voice noticeably young. Christian seems to sense my unease and leans past, extending a hand. I almost forgot he was draped around me, only seeing Arrick in this place, as though everyone and everything else faded into non-existence.
“Hi, I’m Christian, Sophie’s told me about you being childhood besties, and I have to say I’m an admirer of your fighting skills, Arrick. I see you had another knockout victory two weeks back against Tiger Marse.” Christian lays on the straight guy act super thickly, and I cringe inwardly. I hate when he plays the macho guy, it doesn’t suit him.
Arrick regards his outstretched hand a moment, and I think he might ignore it. He seems strangely torn before shaking it firmly, and a little too firmly, judging by Christian’s tensing body. I note that both have gone into guy mode, voices a tad huskier and mannerisms a little more rugged, like an alpha male tug of war or some nonsense. I don’t get it, but Christian seems to be in the zone with his pretend play and pulls his hand back to his side.
“Thanks. Nice to meet you, Christian.” Arrick goes to say more, but one of his friends calls on him, making him look back with a frown. He turns around with an unreadable expression, and there’s another awkward pause between us as his eyes take me in quickly. His gaze travels over me as though his hands skimmed me instead, and every part of me warms crazily. Standing in my floral dress and dainty flats, completely vulnerable to him. I know I must look different from the last time he saw me. I’ve found a new girly style again, with floaty short dresses and sweet shrugs that are not so severe as the glamour chic that Camilla inspired. My hair is longer and softer in its grown out, stripped back to blonde, light bob style, and my makeup is natural.
“You look good, Sophs. You always were more beautiful as a blonde. I like this on you, the sweet girl look … It’s more you.” His eyes come to rest on my hair, a steady look that translates so much, yet so little, and it only deepens the heavy feeling in my heart to an almost unbearable level.
“Thanks. You too. I mean … you look good.” I blush shyly, looking down at my hands as the emotion in my throat builds up to choke me. The man nearby, the unfamiliar one, calls on Arrick again, and this time Arry signals at him to wait another two minutes with a hand gesture. He turns back to me, all but ignoring Christian’s presence. Christian is being strangely silent for a guy who normally never shuts up.
“I need to go, Sophs; are you going to Leila’s party?” Arrick seems rooted to the spot as if he has no intention of moving, but Christian is quick off the mark, sensing my growing inability to function the longer we stand here. I’m getting quieter and more nervous, unsure how to talk to him as my throat closes on me. My body is starting to tremble subtly, and I’m pretty sure I’m losing the use of my legs. This extreme physical reaction only happens with him, and I hate that he still has this effect on me.
“We sure will be, won’t we, sweetheart? Can’t wait to meet Daniel and, of course, Leila. Her parents have told me she’s the family fireball.” Christian squeezes my shoulders, and I throw him a mild frown. I know what he’s doing, and I’m not sure I like it. Arrick looks away, again his cool unreadable facade back in place, that tiny muscle in his jaw making the slightest of movements. A little Arrick tell that he’s not as unaffected as he likes to pretend. The master of indifference is back and even feeling this estranged from him. I can still sense some of his moods.
“Guess I’ll see you both there then.” Arrick smiles my way tightly, eyes locking briefly, and it’s like a thunderbolt to my heart. That devastating half-smile that can crush souls with a tiny flash, dimples hinting, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks somehow deflated. I wonder if life with Natasha is back to what it once was, seeing as this is how he always used to seem with her. I guess the lack of my problematic self means he has everything back under control and boringly normal.
Just how he wanted it, right?
“Guess you will.” I smile quickly. My face tenses because it’s completely unnatural, and I look down, away from that gaze with a heavy sigh. It’s beyond me how one person can affect every tiny part of you with the smallest of efforts.
“I better go before they kick off and eat the tablecloths.” He motions casually toward his two friends at a nearby table, and I nod, my stomach twisting in two. Hating that he still makes me feel this way and wishing I hadn’t seen him again, but at the same time, wishing I was alone, wishing he hadn’t thought Christian was my boyfriend and he would have given me an old Arrick hug, like the old days to wipe the slate clean. I can’t deny that seeing him has only emphasized how much I miss him and how much I would have him back, even as friends, because this distance is worse than hell. Seeing him only reminds me of how much I still need him, and it hurts more than any pain I ever knew I could feel. I’m torn, knowing we should leave, but my feet don’t want to move. It’s like my brain desperately wants to cling to him in any way it can, even if he did rip my heart out.
God, I am so pathetic.
“I suppose, bye, then,” I answer softly, close to tears. I let Christian tug me away, obviously realizing that I can’t do it myself, throwing a casual wave and smile and acting as he owns me as Arrick watches me go. Throwing me one last look as our eyes connect, and for a mere second, I swear I catch a hint of raw unguarded regret and a subtle sigh. Arrick looks hurt, maybe. His eyes lose focus on me, his brows dip for a moment as he frowns and seems to lose that façade momentarily, a slight sag in his posture, but then it’s gone, and I’m being ushered out of the restaurant by Christian, and into the afternoon sun and fresh zingy air.
“He’s far sexier in person. Damn, I would tap that ass if he played for my field.” Christian cuts into my thoughts of imprinting Arrick’s voice and face to memory, whether I want to or not, placing a hand over his heart dramatically.
“You better cut that out if you’re still trying to convince him I’m your bitch, Chris. You’re looking decidedly camp right now.” I throw him an eyebrow lift, and he smiles cheekily. I don’t know whether I’m scolding him or light-heartedly telling him off. I’m so confused about how I should feel over Arry thinking Christian is my beau. I’m still reeling from the shock of seeing him and not sure how I should feel in general. I need to get away from the restaurant so that I can think.
“You mad at me, princess?” He hauls me into his chest and wraps his arms around my head before planting a kiss on top of it. I struggle free, borderline suffocating and having my face squished into oblivion, aware that we are still in front of the huge windows of the eatery and Arrick can most likely still see us from wherever he is. I try not to make it obvious that I’m untangling myself and pushing him off. Heaving breaths in and rubbing my poor face in the process.
“Why let him think that you and I are together?” I pout, obviously irritated, rubbing the bridge of my nose as he leans in and pins an apologetic kiss on the tip with a wink.
“Because, my love, if that guy has any sense at all, then the green-eyed goddess we call jealousy will be poking his gorgeous pride. I could smell the regret swarming off him in droves when he caught sight of my sexy girl.” Christian catches my hand and twirls me under his arm, almost colliding with people on the sidewalk who are innocently strolling by and setting me off balance. I giggle and shove him playfully in the chest, caught in his arms as he rights me again.
“You are a bad boy!” I chide with a genuine smile, losing my doubts and falling into Christian’s constant good mood. He’s eternally playful, sinfully naughty, and somehow always seems to get away with it.
“Oooh, say it again. I like it when you get all sexy and pretend to be mad. If I were into girls, I would totally do you when you call me that.” Christian leans in and plants a kiss on my cheek, ruffling my hair and smacking my ass as he pushes me ahead to head back to school. It’s only two blocks away, and the mild weather means it’s a pleasant walk. No cab is required when it’s a perfectly calm day like this afternoon. Christian takes my arm in his, his expression dropping to become serious, and he eyes me reflectively.
“How was it, though? Seeing him again after so long?” He squeezes my arm reassuringly.
“Hard. Awful.” I swallow down the weird lump that started with the sound of his voice and grew when I laid eyes on him, heating my belly to insane levels. “Much harder than I thought it would be … I still love him.” I sigh sadly, pushing it back down behind that wall of indifference as hard as I can and almost succeeding. Christian frowns at me, dropping my arm and pulling me close with a consoling squeeze around my back, hugging me in like the best friend he is.
“I know, baby girl. It’s his loss. He should have seen what was right in front of him and grabbed on with both hands because you are worth grabbing onto, Sophie. You will find someone who adores the ground you walk on, and I promise you’ll get over him one day.” Christian nudges my shoulder with his and gives me a sympathetic half-smile. He knows this story well enough to know that I do not like talking about this and that I want to appear always in control and emotionally undamaged.
My mask of strength.
“I’ll hold you to that.” I sigh dejectedly and carry on walking, looking ahead so I don’t have to see him studying my expression. My heart calmed to its previous steady beat, although I can’t dislodge how good he looked from my mind’s eye or how he sounded and smelled. Nothing about him has changed, and there isn’t anything about him that doesn’t get to me on every level, even now.
“So, do I continue to be your sexy man at this thing?” Christian eyes me seriously, but I sigh and shake my head at him in defeat.
“My parents would only be confused; they already met you and know we are incompatible. You told my mom about your man troubles, and I have never lied to him, even if we no longer see each other. I don’t want dishonesty between us.” I turn away from his knowing eyebrow wiggle and that cheeky grin plastered across that handsome face.
“You still have it so bad. You could have had fun with this and tortured him a little.” Christian giggles, but I sigh sadly.
“He chose Natasha; she may even be there, so I don’t see how your acting like my boyfriend will make a difference.” I tuck my chin down to hide that my eyes are misting up with this topic, hating that even after three months, he still gets me upset. That her name still hurts me, like being stabbed in the chest with a dull knife.
“Well, maybe you should ask Joey to go with us, that guy has been mooning over you for weeks, and you won’t even go out for a coffee with him.” Christian stops to face me on the sidewalk abruptly, hauling me to him with a devilish air to his tone. Joey is the guy who lives two doors along my hall, he’s asked me out a dozen times, but I only ever find excuses to turn him down. He seems nice enough, tall and dark-haired with grey-blue eyes. I would have seen no problem dating him months back, but he isn’t Arrick, and my heart is struggling to get past that fact.
“I’m not ready.” I sigh, looking at my feet and admiring my pink flats with cute sequin details to distract my aching heart and wandering mind from tall, handsome Carrero men.
“I don’t think you will ever be ready; you need to give him a chance. Grab a coffee, and keep it casual. You have nothing to lose.” Christian is in bossy mode, eyeing me up with his no-nonsense attitude. He has an idea in his head, and like a dog with a bone, he isn’t about to let it go.
“I don’t know, Chris.” I pull him forward as a group of rowdy boys try to slide by on the sidewalk. One of them eyes Christian up with a double glance and blushes as he moves on.
“Nothing to lose, except maybe your heart.” He winks happily, oblivious to the passing “hotty,” and I eye roll, knowing it’s unlikely anytime soon.
To lose your heart, you need to have gotten it back first so that it can let someone else have it, and mine is still most definitely in the tightly gripped hands of one sandy-haired, hazel-eyed heartbreaker of a Carrero.