Chapter 198


    Sophie’s POV


    ~ Meeting Arrick for the first time ~


    I drop the wooden spoon in the bowl as batter sshes back in my face and recoil in disgust, wiping


    the wet mess out of my eye and huff stroppily. Temper riling slightly because I cannot get the knack of


    this at all. Sylvanaughs at my expression and tends to my face with a dish towel she has over her


    shoulder, dabbing at me lightly to clean it off. That gentle motherly smile and soft manner that soothes


    my temper tantrum and I calm slightly at her ever-tender touch to my fiery moods, warming inside at


    her easy manner.


    “Oh, Sophie, Bambino.... Don’t be so aggressive with stirring. Be gentle with the batter, or you will


    pound the air out of the mixture.” She smiles softly and picks the spoon back up to hand to me


    encouragingly, pushing the bowl back against me on the wooden surface with an eyebrow lift that is


    meant to endear me to try again. I frown at the heavy ceramic beast and make another attempt at this,


    sighing heavily and setting my frown to one of determination.


    I attack with a lot less grace than the first attempt, and in my overzealous efforts, I get it sshed up


    my Unicorn t-shirt, rmingly. I sigh and re at the mess sttered over twinkles, my unicorn


    compadre.


    I love this top. I’m totally gutted that I defiled him with raw cake mix.


    “I really don’t think baking is my thing.” I point out defeatedly, mood taking a nosedive and leaving me


    feeling heavy and listless. This is another cooking lesson with ‘Mamma Carrero’ that I am failing at. I’ve


    a skill for spectacr failings in the kitchen department and it never ceases to amaze me how much I


    suck at cooking. We have one every few days; she calls it ‘bonding time’, to quiz me on how I am


    settling in with the foster parents she has ced me with, and without fail I make something awful.N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive ? material.


    She has so much patience and no ends to supplies that I make inedible; it’s a wonder she still even


    tries, although I like that she’s keeping tabs on me, cares enough to check that I am okay in my new


    life. At least I know this time I have someone to run to if my life turns out as awful as it was with my


    biological parents. I trust her.


    She reminds me of her son, Jake, so much. She has his eyes and his easy manner, and I feel like I can


    rx with her, the way I rx with Jake and Emma. Knowing that all of them have the same genuine


    goal, to keep me safe, to look after me and I really appreciate it. Blessed to be given this new chance in


    life.


    Sylvana found me a home with people who live close by and so far, so good. They seem to like me,


    they even let me put a lock on my door, so I feel safe around them. They are pretty awesome people, if


    not a little too caring. I guess in time I can maybe rx around them and stop questioning if this is all


    real all the time. I have siblings for the first time in my life and even though they all seem nice, I’m just


    not ready to bond with any of them yet. I mean this could be temporary, it’s just a foster home after all. I


    don’t want to get my hopes up yet and start to care about people that might not stay in my life for long. I


    like Sylvana though, she doesn’t make me feel like I’m anything different. Anything broken.


    She doesn’t bring up the stuff I don’t want to talk about, even though I know it’s part of her job. I mean,


    the support worker I see weekly is from her own charity... he told me she is the reason I got homed so


    fast. It’s almost unheard of for a fourteen-year-old runaway to find a family like the Huntsbergers so


    easily, especiallying from poverty. I guess I owe all this to her, and Jake, and Emma. I owe them


    everything. Although I know it probably won’tst. I’m a lot to handle at times and know sometimes


    when something is too good to be true, then it is, so, I aim to enjoy it while I can. Build up my strength


    in case I need to run or go back to the streets again and fend for myself.


    I look at Sylvana and feel so much love for her. I just wish I knew how to express it all a little better than


    I do as it’s not particrly easy for me to show emotion. It’s easier with Emma... she gets me, she


    doesn’t expect me to say anything. She just knows. Sylvana is apletely different kind of person


    and even though she works with kids like me, I don’t think she has ever been through what we have.


    “Mamma. Where are you? I’m home.” A male voice that sounds so much like Jake, echoes down the


    hall and I falter, my mixing poised as I freeze. I am not good with strangers, yet this one sounds like


    Jake, so I’m not sure if it’s him or not. There’s something different in the voice though, only slightly, and


    my heart beats faster as Sylvana walks to the kitchen door, patting the flour from her dress as she


    greets the voice.


    I drop my eyes to the bowl and continue with the mess I’m making, gripping the spoon tight and hoping


    whoever it is, doesn’t stay long. Heart rate elevating, and breathing getting a little shallower as nerves


    crash through me at the sudden intrusion on our time. Still not good at coping with my anxiety, but I’m


    learning to hide it and get on top of it more. I breathe slowly tobat the suffocating feeling in my


    chest and focus on slow stirs to concentrate.


    “Ahhh, il mio, bambino.” Sylvana walks forward into a tall frame, concealed behind her body, who


    embraces her tightly. I can see sandy hair over her head and wide shoulders over her own frame,


    strong arms encircling her as they hug. It’s definitely not Jake; the hair color alone is all wrong,


    although he is around the same height.


    “Hey, mamma, mi sei mancato.” The male voice is low and husky, that same Jake depth of tone and I


    wonder if this is the elusive brother I have been told about. Sylvana talks about Arrick a lot, but he’s


    always away at college or travelling; he does it a lot apparently. This is the first time he’s been here


    while I have, it would make sense, seeing as he’s clearly bilingual and called her mom.


    I pause and hold my breath. Waiting. I know she’ll introduce him, and I feel the panic start to rise in my


    throat. Hands going cold and body icing with apprehension at meeting a new male, a new stranger.


    They both move as she turns to me and I duck my eyes back to what I’m doing, ovee with


    shyness and unable to look up as my gut twists in my body. Trying to hold myself in check so I don’t


    make an idiot of myself. I have the urge to check my hair is still tied up, neat in my ponytail, out of the


    way from nervous hands and twitchy habits.


    “Arry, this is Sophabelle, our newest Huntsberger addition.” Sylvana’s voice pulls me up, almost like


    hypnotic magic, clever with her spells of persuasion and I find myself connecting to a pair of pretty


    hazel brown eyes, studying me coolly in a calm and handsome face. Surprised immediately that they


    are not green, like Jake’s, and Sylvana’s, yet somehow these are nicer, warmer, and deeper. Shaking


    myself at the trance he almost causes me, forgetting myself for a second and feeling utterly stupid that


    a boy’s eyes halted me mid breath.


    Heat hits my cheeks as I blush and nce away; his gaze is a little too intense for my liking and


    instantly feel defensive as my body bristles up in rm. I barely took in anything but his eyes and can


    still feel them on me. Studying me.


    “Hey, how you doing?” He speaks to me and I curse that I have to do this. I’m used to the little circle of


    people who have surrounded me for the past weeks, and I don’t need anyone new to be around me


    right now. Strangers mean danger. Especially ones who have a weird ability to render me still with just


    a look; it’s unnerving as hell and my heart doing a rhumba is not exactly weing.


    My hands start shaking like crazy and I have to grip the bowl and spoon to hide it. I flicker up and take


    him in slowly, warily as if he is of no real interest to me. The broad strong shape of a teen, maybete


    teens. He isn’t ugly, he’s kind of cute; okay maybe more than cute, except he has Giovanni’s nose,


    which is a shame because it’s a bit odd at the bridge. I like his hair... it’s spiky and kind of nice in color,


    like sand almost, although variations of dry and wet, and a really nice cut that showcases a strong neck


    and squarish jawline. He seems to spend time styling it too, which I guess I like.


    I think men who care about how they look is an attractive thing, seeing as boys and men I knew never


    did. He has nice taste in clothes anyway; jeans, sneakers and a tight grey t-shirt with some fighting club


    or something on the front, which highlights the fact he works out. Casual, good looking and rxed; a


    dangerousbo for most young girls but not me though. I have no desire to know this Romeo and I


    can tell it is exactly what he is. He looks a little bit like his brother, yet not, and I decide I don’t like him.


    He is too good looking to be a nice guy and poses nothing but a threat to me.


    “Hi.” I respond tly and look back down at what I’m doing. Not interested. He looks too cocky, too


    chatty, too smiley. He will be like every other guy on the who has good genes and knows he’s


    hot. Boring and self-absorbed.


    “You’re a chatty one, aren’t you?” he chuckles, and it makes me squirm because it’s kind of nice in a


    completely awful way, deep, husky, Jake-like, and I re at him for insulting me.


    Ughhh.


    I think he might actually be an asshole now that I think of it. I mean who uses lines like ‘How you


    doing?’ anyway. Pretty sure it’s ame veiled attempt at saying ‘want a date?’. Which I don’t. He is way


    too old for me, I mean, I’m not even fifteen yet and he looks.... well not fifteen. Maybe eighteen. I don’t


    know. He has a young look, but then again, there’s something older in his eyes.


    “Shhh, leave her be. Sophie is fine once she warms to you, stop teasing her.” Sylvana scolds him and


    moves off towards the sink to fill the coffee pot for her newest arrival, which means he is staying.


    Everyone in these families seems to reach for coffee pots at every opportunity, and it’s in weird. I


    hate the smell of the stuff, it makes me think of things I really don’t want to, and I bite down sudden


    nausea that hits me in the gut with both the realization that Romeo is staying, and the memories coffee


    incites.


    I jump in fright when he appears at the table in front of me, ripping my head back to the present,


    reaching in to dip his hand in what I’m mixing, and I drop the bowl and spoon and jump back as though


    he’s scolded me. Even though he didn’t touch me, my heart lurches to my mouth in knee jerk fear. He


    doesn’t react, hand still in the bowl, eyese to me and his face straightens a little. A slight frown as


    he slowly draws away and smiles softly, movements extremely controlled like he senses he shouldn’t


    have done that.


    It does nothing to calm me though and I’m tense all over as I watch him, warily. Body poised to run if he


    tries to get any closer. My heart racing as embarrassment flows over me, and I look away, moving back


    to grab the spoon at speed and die of shame that I reacted so noticeably. I can’t help it. I hate people


    coming too close, especially men and that’s what he is, even though he’s young. He’s a threat. He’s


    male and he’s obviously a guy who can pull girls easily with a smile and a wink. Just not me, never me.


    I inhale deeply and swallow down hard, regaining outward control while my insides are a shuddering


    mess and try to return to that silent moody aura, I had a second ago.


    “Tastes good... you must have the magic touch.” He says it softly, but I notice he’s moved back to give


    me room and I rx a tiny smidgen that he has given me my breathing space back. I don’t answer, but


    stare at the bowl and mix some more, unsure how else to respond. He has me flighty and nervous, my


    toes even trembling with a cold wave of fear coursing through my body.


    “She has if she only had a softer touch and more patience.” Sylvanaughs andes to remove the


    bowl from me swiftly, appearing by my side for a second as she hands me another instead that is filled


    with a new mixture and a fresh spoon. “You can massacre this one if you like.” She giggles beautifully,


    warming my ice a little and reminding me that her presence means safety, no matter who else is here.


    She would never let anything happen to me.


    I nce his way as she moves and catch him looking at me, sort of up and down, as though he’s trying


    to suss me out and I automatically re at him defensively, hating his probing. If he’s looking for an


    easy target, then he will meet his match. I’m not some defenseless little kid who would let some teen


    Romeo have a go. I will burn his pretty face off or stab him with this wooden spoon if I have to. I have


    no interest in boys or men or those that are in-between, like him.


    He smiles at me and I re harder, warning him off. No point leading these types on and giving him the


    wrong idea about what he will get from me. I already met his type at school, the first week here and


    they soon learned that Sophie bites, hard. He picks up an apple from the fruit bowl and leans against


    the kitchen counter, gettingfy as his mom makes fresh coffee and dollops my batter into cake pans


    at the same time. His eyes leave me when he catches my eye, and wanders around the room as he


    takes a bite and crunches noisily.


    Who even eats that loud? Weirdo.


    “You redecorated?” He says to her and I watch that profile for a second.


    Okay, he’s not ugly in anyway, even with a weird nose... he’s actually kind of cute, for a guy, but he’s a


    jackass so what does it matter?


    I go back to mixing aggressively and let out a little of my prickliness on the new mixture, sloshing some


    over the bowl clumsily. I curse under my breath that I’m having real difficulty keeping the contents in the


    damn bowl. His presence is making me antsy and I want him to leave, so we can go back to our


    Sylvana and Sophie time. I’m starting to depend on these visits as part of my routine and he is ruining


    my calm in all kinds of ways.


    “Nope... Just changed a few essories.” Sylvana smiles back at him, then notices my mess, and


    hands him a wet washcloth with a nod towards me. Without hesitation, he puts down his apple and


    leans forward to start cleaning around the bowl I have on the table, straining as though he is trying to


    stay back, which is odd. As his arm gets near mine, I step back again, lifting the bowl to make it look


    like I am giving him space to clean, even though I am really making sure he gets no closer. I catch the


    flicker of his eyes on me, yet he says nothing, just a serious nce that makes my heartbeat faster and


    then looks away. He wipes the surface and hands it back to her as I put the bowl back down and only


    step forward when he moves away fully. Less chaotic on my innards that time and I am a lot less antsy.


    The phone starts ringing and Sylvana takes it from the wall, utters something in Italian then gestures


    two minutes to me and leaves the room. Taking the phone with her as she chats in fluent Italian and


    leaves us to it, oblivious as to why this is not good at all.


    Leaves me with him! Alone and undefended.