《The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)》 Chapter 1: 1 Chapter 1: 1 Arrick Carrero Arrick nced down at his phone lighting up in the center console of his car and sighed as Sophie''s name shed on screen. That air of irritation and anxiety mingling together and pushing solidly to the surface. He was runningte as it was, which he hated like crazy, but he knew for a fact that whatever she wanted he would give in to. Sophie just had a way of getting under his skin, even when she was being as infuriating as in the past months, and try as he might, he had no willpower when it came to her. Hitting his dash, that connected to his phone, her voice rang around the interior of the car as soon as he pressed it. ¡°Arrick ¡­ Arry? Are you there?¡± She was slurring badly, most likely way too drunk again, and he couldn¡¯t do anything but sigh and reel in the urge to be mad at her, picturing her in his mind¡¯s eye and getting stressed. He hated knowing she was out there in that state; calling him meant she was probably alone and those sad act, so-called friends of hers, had yet again ditched her. His temper rose internally, heart rate rising, and muscles started to tense. ¡°Yes, Sophs, I¡¯m here. Where are you this time?¡± He knew why she was calling, she needed picking up again and as he checked his dash for the time, he cursed quietly. Natasha would be waiting for him, it was another ten minutes to her apartment, and he could guarantee Sophie would be in the opposite direction, back in the city. Once again, he would have to choose between his girlfriend and Sophie, and they all knew he would always go where she needed him, without hesitation. Lately, Natasha and he had argued way more about how much time he spent running after Sophie, but he couldn¡¯t help it. He felt responsible for her, after years of being the one person she turned to, he cared about her so damned much that the thought of her being drunk and vulnerable out there somewhere, was making him sweat. Sophie was a weakness, one that he had never truly understood. Putting it down to years of seeing her vulnerable and in need of being taken care of, and him being a protective person who cared a little too much about what happened to her. She was the closest thing he had to a sister, and he always figured that¡¯s what this was. ¡°I¡¯m at Randy¡¯s club alone, Arry ¡­ I lost everyone and I can¡¯t find my bag.¡± She sounded so young and vulnerable, sucker punching him in the gut, winding him around her little finger effortlessly. All it took was a tearful tone and he could picture those Bambi eyes, all huge and soft blue like a wounded kitten, and that perfectly pouted mouth trembling, ready to cry. He gritted his teeth as the stab of anxiety hit him hard. Sophie was young and beautiful, a little too beautiful if he was being honest, and a prime target for assholes and creeps who tended to seek her out. She just attracted trouble without even trying. Randy¡¯s club was a twenty-minute drive back, if he picked Natasha up first there would be a catfight in here for sure. Despite the numerous times he had them together, neither seemed to warm to the other. He also didn¡¯t like the thought of leaving Sophie in that god-awful ce longer than he had to and picking Tash up first would do just that. He had no energy for another ¡®Tasha-Sophs¡¯ scene and was already U-turning his car in the street, back to her without hesitation. His hands already making the choice even when he¡¯d still been mulling it over. This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org. Natasha would understand, she would moan at first and get upset, but ultimately, she had to ept that Sophie would always be a part of his life, and he would never stop taking care of her. She was his best friend; someone he had spent six years being a rock for when she had faced reliving the trauma of her own childhood at the hands of an abusive parent. Sophie was a part of him, a bond formed over years of helping her find her feet in her new life in her new adoptive family¡¯s home, and in a safe environment. They had clicked, somewhere between looking at him like she didn¡¯t trust him and wanting him to fall into a crater, and the first time she allowed him to buy her a milkshake without acting like she wanted to punch him in the balls. ¡°I¡¯m on my way, Sophs, go back in the club and stay there until Ie get you.¡± He sounded pissed, hell, he was pissed, even if he was trying not to show it. She was getting too damned frequent with these situations she put herself in, and she no longer even listened to him, or to reason anymore. It just made him sick to his stomach to think how many close calls or dumb situations she¡¯d gotten herself into that she didn¡¯t call him for. Turning neenst year had somehow seemed to flick a switch in her head that she should live wild and party like Le, her sister, used to do. It was simpler when she was just a kid, hanging out and easy to guide, being happy to just chill and watch a movie, rather than go out getting drunk andid. And that part was something he just didn¡¯t allow himself to think about at all; Sophie and sex were two topics he never wanted to link in any way, shape or form, and he sure as hell didn¡¯t want to meet any of the assholes she dated. It was a hell of a lot easier when she was a big-eyed fifteen-year-old who followed him around obediently and looked up to him for advice, hanging on his every word. He missed that girl like crazy; he often thought about her and longed for the days when the two of them used to be able to just chill, sofa surf and share junk food, with that easy effortless quality time together. Natasha wasn¡¯t one for any of that; she hated most of the stuff that Sophie and he loved, and the fact she didn¡¯t see what he did in her made things more strained. There was nomon ground between the two women. He knew he wasn¡¯t around as much for Sophie as he had been in the past because of it, andtely, all he did was pick her up from bars and clubs and take her home to recover when she was a mess. They barely talked about anything at all when he saw her. He was too old for this shit now. He was turning twenty-six in a few months, and thest thing he needed anymore was all this drama, every week of his life with her. He missed the Sophie who used to be happy to go out with him, go away together or just hang out doing normal stuff, like jet skiing, ying Xbox, snowboarding, watching foreign cartoons and vegetating, or any of the other pastimes they had shared in the past few years. He missed the small things, before she started dating assholes, and living on the edge of wild. He just missed her, endlessly. What he wouldn¡¯t give for a sober call, and that sweet voice on the other end just asking him how his day was, instead of crying for another rescue. He had no clue how they had even got here. ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± Her crestfallen tone and the start of tears made him instantly guilty, that ache in his stomach and pang in his chest. Sophie wasn¡¯t much of a crier unless she thought Arrick was pissed at her and he never understood why she fell to pieces when he was mad. She sure as hell didn¡¯t give a shit if any of her adoptive family got pissed at her, especially not her sister or Mom, whom she had been closest to. To his recollection, she didn¡¯t really get upset when her own friends did, but then Sophie had found keeping friends outside of the family hard, especially with her past and all the demons it held. She didn¡¯t really trust people enough to form real bonds, so he knew how important it was that he stayed in her life, even when she was behaving like a train wreck on a path to destruction. Not that he had a choice; life had a way of feeling empty when he didn¡¯t hear from her for weeks, and thankfully he had only endured that a couple of times. ¡°No, Mimmo, I¡¯m not mad, Sophie. Go inside, stay warm and wait for me.¡± He tried to soften his tone, soothing her drunken ruffled feathers gently, in a bid to coerce her to do as he wanted. When she was like this, she was an overgrown child he needed to manage carefully; that internal spitfire of hers ready to overreact and bite, even if it only hurt herself. Sophie was someone who was easily pushed into the defensive, closing up andshing out at those who mattered, when trying to protect herself, and being drunk escted it tenfold. She had always been that way and very few had his skill at knowing how to handle her. Too stubborn to think logically or realize she was cutting off her nose to spite her face sometimes. He upped his speed, putting his new car through its paces to get to her a little quicker as the tension in his body escted. It waste, almost ten p.m. and the city was aglow with the usual never-ending illumination of New York, as his sleek steel gray Mercedes slid through the night effortlessly. He was biting his lip as his eyes roamed the traffic impatiently, checking his mirrors as he shifted in his seat. Chapter 2: 2 Chapter 2: 2 She always made him feel anxious when she was like this, so many scenarios running through his head of what could happen to her, and his inner body twisting the tango of uptight anxiety. Sophie was naive at the best of times, but drunk, she waspletely oblivious to danger, considering her past, and seemed to have a knack for attracting it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry ¡­ Arry?¡± She started to sob, and he just felt worse. He hadn¡¯t even yelled at her this time, so he had no idea why she was crying. He had stopped yelling at her months ago when he realized it no longer had any effect on her behavior, and he hated Sophie crying; it made him feel like a shitty human being when those hurt doe eyes hit him, right in the stomach. He had seen enough of her tears over the years in connection to what her sick perverted father had done to her and that¡¯s all he saw now. That vulnerable broken face, racked with scars and pain from a childhood that could have destroyed her. Arrick stiffened as that stab of rage spiked inside like a fiery hot spear. Whenever he thought of that asshole he wanted to kill him; the fact he could take someone as innocent and sweet as her and ruthlessly abuse her for years made him want to rip the guy¡¯s spine out and ram it down his throat. He was fiercely protective of her, knowing everything he knew, being there for every therapy appointment and tearful outpouring when she needed to talk. Sophie had let him in in ways that no one else had been allowed, and the depth of her dark confessions ripped his soul out repeatedly, at the misery she endured. Listening to it almost ended him, so he had no idea how she ever endured it and stayed sane. He vowed long ago that he would always protect her, that he would destroy any guy who dared to every hands on her against her will again, and it was an oath he would uphold for an eternity. Sophie was his warrior! Despite all of it, she had risen through the memories like an invincible me, and she had blossomed despite that asshole. He had never known anyone as strong as her; pride washing through him at her achievement as he thought of how much she overcame in a bid to move on. Arrick inhaled heavily, calming his outward persona as affection for her reigned supreme. ¡°Come on, Sophs. Don¡¯t. You know I can¡¯t handle it when you cry. I¡¯ll be there in twenty minutes or less. Go, be a good girl and get back in the club for me.¡± He could make out the noise of the street around her and the tell-tale shake of her voice that she was shivering. Frowning hard again, at something else she was doing to herself with zero care for her own wellbeing-, and it just angered him crazily. She had probablye out without a jacket again, wearing something way too short and skimpy, and not giving a crap that it waste in the season and exposure was something that could kill her. The girl needed constant supervision. Her love of current fashion irritated him when trends were all skimp and skin. Right now, women were wearing less and less, and he hated that Sophie followed the trend of leaving little to the imagination. She was aplete fashion addict; clothes were her life, even when they were barely scraps of fabric on her. She had a body that attracted eyes, long legs, and a perfect petite frame with curves that even someone like him couldn¡¯t ignore. She was growing up way too fast and seemed to hit puberty from the second he met her. No matter how hard he had tried to not see the changes and ignore how much she was bing a head turner, he had to admit, Sophie was irresistible to most men. He could only imagine how many sleazy perverts had been scoping her out already. ¡°Okay ¡­ I¡¯ll be at the back, in the booths lying down.¡± She sniffed some more, gaining control again, and he cursed internally, frustration biting hard and stilling him from snapping. Biting down to curb the urge to yell at her as anger bristled. ¡°Don¡¯t lie down near the back, stay up front.¡± He ground out through gritted teeth, fighting to sound normal and cool. He knew only too well what kind of men preyed on young girls like her in the shadows at the back of Randy¡¯s club. It was a ce he used to frequent with Jake, his older brother, a long time ago, and hadpletely gone downhill in recent years with the clientele bing seedier. The crew Sophie hung around with seemed to favor it, despite both Arrick and Jake telling her repeatedly to steer clear, and it only made him tten metal to the floor in a bid to get there faster, his pulse quickening. He didn¡¯t care if he got a ticket; he couldn¡¯t stand the thought of her passing out in a dark corner of a club that was notorious for women being assaulted. ¡°I¡¯m tired, I need to lie down.¡± She slurred again, all tears gone, and he could recognize the noise of the club approaching as though she was walking back inside. Arrick¡¯s panic rose in his throat at her completeck of any sense in this, heart hammering and dodging cars on the road as he drove a little erratically. ¡°You can sleep in my car, Sophie. I¡¯m warning you. Stay out near the front where I can find you, and on your feet. I¡¯m almost halfway. Do not lie down!¡± He was stern; his tone less controlled and huskier at the thought of anything happening to her, praying to God she listened tonight. Trying to keep his temper because he knew she could be a boiling pot of childishness like this, and thest thing he needed was her telling him to fuck off and disappearing on him. She had a habit of up and running when she couldn¡¯t deal with something, and it had spurred her to leave home months ago. Sophie sighed dramatically and then was obscured by the sudden thumping noise of the music surrounding her before it was disconnected. The club had an awful signal inside and he had just lost her as she went back to the dance floor. Shit. Arrick flinched with the cold pulse that ran through him, anxiety, and fear colliding with every worst-case scenario in his head. He tried her cell again quickly, but got nothing but her answer machine, cursing out loud this time. He would lecture her when he got there, shake the shit out of her. No doubt he¡¯d have to carry her out likest weekend and this time he was sitting her down for a serious heart-to-heart. He was done with whatever this was. Done with the drunken calls, putting herself in constant danger, the argumentative stroppy behavior and difficult attitude ofte. He understood that her past sometimes meant she was hard to handle, even at her best she had always been hard to handle, but thistely was beyond a joke. His nerves couldn¡¯t take much more of this and his rtionship with Natasha was falling to pieces because of it. Tonight, she wasing home with him and sobering up to get the third degree. Enough was enough, and if anyone could get through to her and convince her to go home to her family, then it was him. He had been avoiding this conflict for too long and he couldn¡¯t avoid it anymore; that stubborn mindset hitting him hard that he wasn¡¯t going to keep going through this anxiety over her safety anymore. The agony. This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?. She had up and left home a few months before, after a heated fight concerning her drunken lifestyle; another night he scraped her off a sidewalk and taken her back from the city to the Hamptons. Her family had lost all control by then, and Arrick had been the only one left she still clung to in any way. He had been treating her with kid gloves ever since, in fear she would cut him loose too, and that had been his biggest mistake. He had listened to Natasha over his own gut; he should have trusted that he had always known how to handle Sophie and not gone for the softly, softly approach at her bidding. Natasha only knew the bare facts and nothing more, she only saw Sophie as a broken child and had convinced him to go against his own reasoning in every way. Arrick should never have listened, he knew her better than anyone. She needed his stern side back. Sophie needed real help and understanding, someone to reel her in a little before she got herself into a situation that only ended badly. Arrick knew, that despite Natasha¡¯s feelings on the matter, that the only person with a chance of pulling his girl back out of whatever this was and bringing back some of the girl he missed crazily, was him. His way. Sophie and he had a bond like no other, and even though the past months had seen them changing towards each other, he knew his girl was still in there somewhere, and he needed to find her again. For his own sanity, as well as hers, as all of this was slowly killing him. He hated seeing her messed up and unhappy, and he knew he had to do something before he lost her too. Despite always calling on him, he felt like he had been losing her for a long time and was the root of his stress for months now. The possible stomach ulcer too. Arrick picked up his cell phone and scrolled to his most recent calls, hitting Natasha¡¯s name,ying it back down in the console, eyes glued to the road, frowning. He hated driving in mid-town traffic past eight p.m.; the hustle and bustle of people hitting the nightlife always made it a headache to navigate. Chapter 3: 3 Chapter 3: 3 ¡°Hey, Darling, are you almost here?¡± Natasha had a soft feminine voice that made her sound like a child most of the time, and he was hit with that pang of guilt at the fact he was doing this to her again. ¡°Hey, Tash. Look ¡­ I¡¯m sorry, but I need to cancel our ns tonight. You go and meet everyone and enjoy dinner. I need to go deal with Sophie.¡± He waited with paused breath at the long silence which stretched between them, zero response as she took it in, and he could already picture the hurt expression on her face. Knowing that she was taking a moment to choose her words wisely and think about her reaction. Natasha was always someone who remainedposed and liked to see everything from everyone¡¯s perspective before flying off the handle. She was the picture of mature and refined, outwardly calm like him, and he guessed it¡¯s why they got on so well. Theplete opposite to Sophie, and usually why Sophie was the one to start major rows with her, pushing her buttons and making her snap, despite it going against Natasha¡¯s nature. ¡°Again?¡± She inhaled desperately, no real anger in her even tone, only disappointment. He took a long slow breath, exhaling even more slowly, knowing that this wasn¡¯t fair on her; it never was. Yet d she was taking it well, despite bailing when he was supposed to be there already. Natasha had put up with so much in the past eighteen months that was causally rted to Sophie. ¡°She¡¯s a mess, and she¡¯s alone at Randy¡¯s bar. I can¡¯t leave her there and I think it¡¯s best if shees back to my apartment tonight for a real talk. I can¡¯t keep ignoring this.¡± He hated the second stretch of silence, knowing Natasha was seriously upset with him, but the anxiety concerning Sophie vulnerable out there far outweighed anything else. ¡°What good does talking do? She has been getting worse over thest year, and thest couple months she has had you run after her almost three nights a week, every week.¡± Natasha¡¯s voice wobbled when she finally responded, and he knew the tears had started. He felt like shit for letting her down, but in this, he had made up his mind. He could see his friends and her another night when Sophie was safely back where she belonged, and nowhere near any form of danger. ¡°I haven¡¯t actually sat her down alone in a long time and just tried ¡­ I need to do this my way. I¡¯m worried about her, Tash, and I can¡¯t just let her go on living like this.¡± The visual of Sophie crossed his mind and that same rise of anxiety that he was still stuck in traffic and not there yet. All he could picture was her big tear stained blue eyes and terrified face and he tapped his hand impatiently. ¡°Fine! You know you¡¯ll do whatever you want anyway when ites to her. Good luck, I guess. If you think it will make a difference then try, but we can¡¯t keep on like this. I can¡¯t keep on like this.¡± Natasha sniffed softly, no real anger; picturing her wiping her eyes, he frowned hard at the cab in front, willing it to move with more aggressive steering wheel tapping. She was pissed at him, disappointed in ruining their night, but he knew she would get over it quickly. Deep down Natasha was apassionate person, and in the end, she always agreed that he couldn¡¯t leave Sophie to her own devices. Anytime the two women argued it had always been Sophie who sparked the girl-on-girl feud, and despite it all, Natasha just wanted to like her and get along for all their sakes. Natasha was a sweetheart and he knew she didn¡¯t deserve this at all, she didn¡¯t deserve the hard time Sophie always gave her. ¡°I know, and that¡¯s partly the reason I need to do this. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll call you tomorrow. Have a good night with Nate and the guys; wish Lydia a happy birthday for me.¡± Arrick growled at the Cab driver in the guy¡¯s mirror, urging him to move now the lights had changed, and getting hostile as hell, rapping his fingers loudly. He heard her sigh, resigned to the fact that he wasn¡¯ting, and not really the kind of girl to have a go when at the heart of this was Arrick¡¯s caring side, his loyalty for his friend. She couldn¡¯t be angry at that, even if it did interfere with them. ¡°I love you, Arrick.¡± Natasha added hesitantly that tender affection she said often, and it tugged at his guilt, his chest aching a little, knowing she hated being mad at him and this was her way of saying she understood. ¡°You too, Tash. Now go. Tell me how it went tomorrow. I¡¯ll hopefully get through to her and have something positive to tell you.¡± He red harder at the car in front and resisted the urge to hit his horn. His feet were ready to ram the gas. ¡°Goodbye, honey,¡± she breathed gently, lingering. ¡°Bye, Tash,¡± he answered distractedly. He hung up before she did, getting seriously pissed with the yellow car now, weaving in and out and making it impossible to pass. If it weren¡¯t for this asshole, he would have been there minutes ago and already scooping her up and out of harm¡¯s way. He mmed his horn angrily and sighed with relief when the car pulled into the side to let him pass. Thank fuck! *** Sophie Huntsberger I drag myself heavily through the crowded club once more, everything moving and tipping like I¡¯m at sea, disorientated and foggy, although I¡¯m less drunk than I was. My phone is still glued to my ear, even though I seem to have lost Arrick and hear nothing but silence. Pulling my cell down to look at the nk screen I realize my battery has died and I just sigh inplete detion. Fed up with how my life is turning outtely as nothing seems to go right anymore. Taking a long deep breath to try to center myself into sobriety, my body sagging, drying my face halfheartedly with the back of my hand now that my tears have once again subsided, and my heart has resorted to numb emptiness. I don¡¯t even care if my makeup is smeared or even cried off. Arrick has seen me worse so many times. I let my cell drop in my hand, beside my body and hold it loosely, too disconnected to really feel anything but heavy fatigue from stupidly sobbing, swaying from being under the influence and bumping into things clumsily. I¡¯m just empty and done,pletely over my night and not caring that it isn¡¯t even late enough to be bailing. ¡°Hey, sexy ¡­ wanna dance?¡± Some husky male voice assaults my senses as I try to fight my way through the heaving, dancing crowd, that is more like a sea of tar, shrugging by without a response and hoping he leaves me alone. He taps my shoulder as though I haven¡¯t heard him, and the rise of hairs and goosebumps run across my skin in automatic response. That internal rearing ache in my stomach that happens anytime a guy touches me. I long ago identified it as repulsion. I shrug it off and keep going, eyes forward, not reacting in any way, body simmering with that restless cranky energy that seems to gue me ofte. My steps arebored, and off bnce and I know that even if I take off my heels, I won¡¯t be able to keep walking around before face nting the floor. Everything aches, legs like rubber, my feet are burning and sore in my new Jimmy Choos and now I¡¯m irritated and nauseous beyond belief. Everything is surreal and yet shittily familiar. It¡¯s fair to say my mood has seen better days and I really cannot be assed with this shit anymore. A hot iron-gripped hand catches my upper arm, startling me and halting my progression through sweaty bodies; biting into my naked flesh and pulls me back ungracefully, so that I almost go over my heels. My heart jumps at the action. This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org. ¡°Hey, I was asking you a question!¡± He yells right into my ear to be heard above the thrum of noise, as he catches up and puts himself right against my ass, heat hitting me, apanied by that familiar rising panic from deep within. The inner psycho bristling up to take on another sleazy asshole who thinks he has a right to touch me. I inwardly recoil at the unwanted contact. Annoyed at the nerve of the creep and outraged at my near trip, I sh an angry re his way over my shoulder and yank myself free. Responding into aggressive mode as rage spikes inside of me like a hot fiery spear. That inner fury, which always bubbles below the surface drunk, and has been ingrained since childhood, sparks up to take on the world. Shoving him hard in the chest with the t of my palm, putting every ounce of strength into it and almost knocking myself off bnce too. I want him to go away and leave me alone, shaking my hand to remove the sensation of his hot mmy body when I manage to gain the space I need. Chapter 4: 4 Chapter 4: 4 He disappears into the crowd with the force of my assault and I move fast, knowing better than to stick around for him toe back, trying to get out of sight before he gets back to his original spot. Heart racing a little as adrenaline flows and sense tells me to duck and weave faster to the safety of the dark, back wall of the club. Men in this club are known for being aggressive and perverted at the best of times, and I¡¯ve been groped on more than one asion to know it¡¯s true. One weekend had seen too close a call with one hot-tempered asshole who wouldn¡¯t take no for an answer. Arrick had shown up just in time and broken his nose when he had refused to back down. Arry my pro boxing hero. ¡°Leave me alone!¡± I yell back as an afterthought, almost coherently, to the general direction he¡¯s fallen back; my slurring voice non-existent under the thumping house music and intent on just finding a quiet ce to get off my tired legs to hide. I¡¯m exhausted. I wish Arry was here already and helping me out to his car, so I can lie down and go to sleep. The thought of himing for me is all that is keeping me sane right now; alcohol and tears are never a good mix. I¡¯m disheveled, out of ce and vulnerable. I¡¯m not sure if I should even tell him about why I¡¯m upset this time, why I have been crying. Arrick hates my friends, not that I can¡¯t see why, as they¡¯re all pretty pathetic and really just the crowd I fell into when I came here. I can¡¯t ever seem to form real friendships with people, no matter how hard I try, and I know it¡¯s because I don¡¯t ever let them past my outer wall. It¡¯s the same with men I date. I hide who I really am behind that mask of party girl and reckless persona and attract the wrong kind. Arrick hates the men I date almost as much as I hate his girlfriend Natasha, and another sob story about how hard done to I am by one of them again, will just annoy him. I can¡¯t say that I me him; it annoys me too, that I¡¯ve be this pathetic doormat that men wipe their feet on, and I let them. My stomach churns like a washing machine, my throat aches, painfully parched. I sobbed for an hour before even calling him this time, letting the hazy flurry of booze clear a little so I didn¡¯t slur as much on the phone to him, and it¡¯s left me feeling raw and woozy. I have no idea where my so-called friends are, andst time I saw my handbag it was in the hands of that slimy prick Terry. I left him to hold it for me when I¡¯d gone to dance. Terry is the guy I¡¯ve been dating, on and off, most recently, nothing serious. Just looking for that guy who may be different this time, maybe care more than thest. Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org. Now very much off, due to the fact I ventured to the bathroom and walked right in on him snorting coke from that whore Dionne¡¯s naked breasts while banging her up against a vanity. At first, the disbelief made me stand in open-mouthed silence, before shock, and then outrage hit me. Reacting like a crazy jealous bitch, I yanked him off her and reined a flurry of ps and abuse at his upper shoulders and head, blinded by overwhelming ck rage as my heart twisted itself into a contortion of pain. They both scrambled for discarded clothes and belongings, before scurrying off like cowardly assholes, and I only realized my bag was with him after I slumped down on a closed toilet and cried my eyes out. Completely betrayed by two people I should have been able to trust, with more heartache to add to my ever-growing memory album. I sobbed until this numbness took effect and wiped me out, although I¡¯m still feeling fragile, I¡¯m mostly just empty. Dionne yed the role of girly best friend for weeks. Looking back, I now see that she was milking me for anything she could get; a never-ending stream of money on tick with promises to pay it back. My clothes, my shoes and now my man. Luckily, my cell was in the back pocket of my denim skirt, a habit Arry drilled into me from an early age. To always keep my cell phone on me in case I ever need him ¡­ no matter what. My lifeline to my boy. My other friends seem to have vanished as quickly. As soon as I stumbled out of thedies¡¯ room, tear- stained and lightheaded to find them, I realized I¡¯d been abandoned. We all came here to get drunk before our main event; a huge party in some exclusive bar across Manhattan, and my time in the bathroom was long enough to get ditched. Again. This isn¡¯t the first time they have all gone on to the next ce and left me to it. None of them cares about me, they only care that I pay my share, or more, of the booze, and don¡¯t cause drama. No one bothers even looking for me and it¡¯s why I always end up calling on Arry toe find me. He¡¯s the only person I ever really count on. He never lets me down. Whenever I feel this way, he¡¯s all I want, all I need to feel better. That heroing to rescue me and take care of me for a while, that guy who never abandons me, even if he is pissed at me for calling. It¡¯s stopped me falling off the edge of the cliff I¡¯m dangerously walking along many a time. My haven of calm, my ind in a storm, and I miss him so much since our lives started to take different paths. I¡¯m so tired of this scene, tired of the endless, backstabbing, shallow assholes that befriend me and just don¡¯t give an actual shit, and generally tired of life. Tired of being the one left wandering alone and relying on Arry toe find me when I need him and knowing that I¡¯m only pushing him away every time I do. Tired of the way my friends are only around for the party but never the aftermath, and even then, only around as long as my allowance doesn¡¯t run out. Tired of being used and discarded by men when they move on to someone else, as though I¡¯m worth no more than a cheap night out when I am no longer a lure for them. I¡¯m just sick of everything, sick of the life I¡¯ve made for myself and don¡¯t know how to get out of anymore. I feel spent inside and tired, to the point that I know it¡¯s no longer alcohol rted. I¡¯m not happy living this way and chasing this life to make myself happy just doesn¡¯t work out at all. I manage to push and w my way through thest crowded expanse to the empty back seats of the club, into the darkest and quieter shadows, despite Arry telling me never to venture back here alone. Into the depths, but I¡¯m so consumed with needing to sit down and put my head on something to stop it from spinning. I need to just sit and breathe before he gets here. The tears that dried on my cheeks have made my skin tight and sore, my heart is bruised, but it will still beat to fight another day. Neither Terry nor Dionne mean that much to me in the grand scheme of things. This isn¡¯t the first cheating asshole I dated, and the constant nagging to have sex with him won¡¯t be missed any more than he will. I held him off for a month, and I guess not giving him what he wanted is why he clearly found it in someone else. Story of my life. Sex is not an option for me, not now, not ever. Sex is something I doubt I will ever have the urge to share with some random asshole I hook up with. Especially when all they do is pressure me and paw me, even when I tell them I¡¯m not ready. I¡¯ve no idea if I ever will be, and therein lies the problem. What man will want a girl who doesn¡¯t ever want to have sex with him? Years of being abused by my father until I ran away from home at fourteen made sure that it¡¯s only repulsion when a male gets his hands anywhere near my body. My skin crawls with what feels like fire ants running all over me. My stomach turns at the mere thought of hands or body parts down there, touching mine. I can handle kissing, and minor upper body petting, when drunk, if I really force myself. If I have to endure it for whatever guy I¡¯m seeing, but anything below the waist sends me into a panicking mess of fear and fire, igniting that bitch side whoshes out and bes violent. I don¡¯t really suffer from the shbacks or memories anymore, rarely anyway. I dealt with those demons a long while back with Arry¡¯s help. I know how to control letting that sick fuck back in my head, learned how not to let those scars control me. But touch, down there ignites some deep-frozen fear that sends me spiraling into defensive rage impulsively. I know that it¡¯s partly because I trust no one to go down there. So afraid of the memories. What hope is there for any sort of rtionship with that as the oue? I¡¯ve dated so many men in thest months that to an outsider I¡¯m just a slut who switches men, like her underwear, jumping from one handsome guy to another. On the surface, I can flirt, kiss, and dance sexily with any guy. I¡¯ve be amazing at behaving like a mentally normal person who can function in the real world when ites to sex. Chapter 5: 5 Chapter 5: 5 The truth is they all soon drop off my radar when they realize feisty girl about town Sophie, does not put out. Ever. I look the part, blonde and blue-eyed with a slim curvy body and a dress sense that¡¯s sexual because I¡¯m obsessed with clothes and shoes. I love to be both daring and bold and love to use my body to showcase the season¡¯s sexy trends. I don¡¯t have body issues anymore, anyck of self-esteem or confidence concerning how I look. Therapy made sure of that, the best my family could get me, and the support from my family, Emma, and Arry. No vulgar thoughts when I see how I have grown into a woman¡¯s figure, and I can pull off the outward confidence like any girl around. I have no problem attracting men of all sorts, but I just want one decent guy, someone like him: My Arry. Someone to take care of me and understand that sex isn¡¯t everything between us. That without it I¡¯m still worthwhile. Someone to see beyond the outer shell and treat me like I matter. Someone who doesn¡¯t see a meal ticket or a quick fuck, or who isn¡¯t abhorred by the past and all the dirty little things that asshole did to me. I sigh heavily, head overcrowded with thoughts and feelings and I know I¡¯m just running my mind ragged, pushing myself into anxiety, making myself depressed and more exhausted. I lean back and rest my head against the padded seat back; the thumping noise and smoky atmosphere are grating on me, even this drunk. I just want to go home, for Arrick to find me soon and take me anywhere but here. I close my eyes to block it all out, stay sitting up so I¡¯m less of an obvious target and start counting down the minutes till he gets here. I am so done with this scene, this life, and it¡¯s never ending bullshit. All I do is party, drink, and have fun. If I can even call it that anymore! It¡¯s been losing its sparkle for weeks. After the first burst of independence wore off; and sitting here for the millionth time alone, tear- stained, and exhausted, I wonder why I ever hungered after this at all. Why I ever thought shallow friends and meaningless rtionships were worth more than genuine love from my family. The emptiness inside of me, which pushed me down this path, is still very much there, growing wider by the month and sucking me inwards like a ck hole with no way out. You can¡¯t drink away the sense of emptiness that gues me, God knows I have tried. There is no curing this with a wild lifestyle anymore. I dropped out of school because I didn¡¯t see any point in it, none of what I was learning interested me, and I sat drawing clothes, coloring in doodles of shoes in every lesson. My head on getting out and going to max my credit card on whatever hit the boutiques that week, daydreaming over the outfit I wanted to try out when I got home. Besides spending money on clothes, the only other thing which brought me joy was matching outfits for new looks, searching out shoes and essories that made it all pop. Fashion is everything to me. I adore every aspect of it and love nothing more than customizing things with my own style, teaching myself to sew in my spare time. It¡¯s one of the few genuine joys I seem to have. I broached the subject of fashion school only once; my parents dismissed it as frivolous and pointless and told me that I have the brains to do so much more. As much as I love them, and I really do, it crushes me in a way that they dismiss something I have a passion for, and even though I have never sought their approval with very much of anything, it made me rip up the brochures I collected concerning fashion schools in the city. I threw them away with the trash and threw away any thoughts of doing anything about it,shing out in my effortlessly juvenile way. ¡°Hey, sexy, can I keep you warm?¡± A slurring male tone pours over me hotly as the stench of alcohol breath runs down my cheek. Repulsion and mistrust stir within. Opening one eye, I catch an up close and personal view of a guy in histe twenties, leaning in invasively. His handes to rest on my naked thigh, just below my vintage styled denim skirt. My skin crawls immediately with that burn of an alien touch that ispletely unwanted. I impulsively shove his fingers away, pulling my knees together as that abdomen lurching reaction hits hard and shift to the side away from him, outraged at both the fact he dares to touch me and that he might ruin my skirt with his grubby meat hands. ¡°No! My boyfriend is on his way to get me and he¡¯ll be pissed if you¡¯re annoying me.¡± I lie expertly; it isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve told men that Arry is my boyfriend. For the most part, it works, and when he shows up, he ys the part effortlessly, always intervening no matter what he walks into and takes me away from it all. He has that scary look of a guy who will beat you to within an inch of your life, gorgeous enough to be usible as my lover, despite the fact I know he keeps his right hook for the training ring normally, and is a pussycat outside of it most of the time. He doesn¡¯t ever brawl in bars or jump to violence if he can help it, he¡¯s too controlled for that crap. Even as a professional MMA fighter. ¡°Who¡¯s annoying you? I just want to keep you cozy.¡± He slides down next to me, pushing against my side intrusively, my body cringing, and hooks his arm around the back of the seat over my head to angle in on me. The stench of stale sweat mixed with cheap aftershave and booze hits me in the face and makes me gag. I hold my breath and tilt my head away from him to get some space and avoid the proximity, nerves creeping up and my body rigid. Everything inside of me shing into instant red alert mode and poised to attack should I need to do so. He isn¡¯t that bad looking, maybe if I¡¯d met him on the dance floor, I¡¯d like him, but he has the air of a pushy guy who doesn¡¯t take no for an answer very often. That usual pit of nausea hits deep down and I cross my legs protectively. Used to sleazy men trying it on in the past couple of years, aggravated that they always seek me out, no matter how hard I try to avoid exactly this. My skin prickles uneasily and that automatic tightening up of my limbs as I move into defensive fight or flight mode. ¡°Go away; I¡¯m not looking to get cozy with anyone, except him.¡± I lift my phone, shaking it as though to demonstrate I¡¯ve called him, and this time keep it in my hand in case I need to smack him in the face with it. I¡¯m sobering up fast as adrenaline speeds up my heart rate, bing more aware because I¡¯m ¡°I saw you here earlier, didn¡¯t look like you had a problem dancing up close to some guy who left with a little brteter. Pretty sure your boyfriend would love to know about that ¡­ Or you could just open up and give me a few minutes of your time to keep quiet.¡± He taps my knee suggestively and indicates I open my legs with a finger gesture, sneering smugly as I turn to meet his face in utter disbelief. My heart lurches and plummets, knowing I can¡¯t control the rage that builds inside of me rapidly, my hands growing mmy as my breath hitches. One thing I can always count on is that inner impulsive temper of mine to make a grand entrance whenever she sees fit. ¡°FUCK OFF! You perverted fuck. You think you can ckmail me into screwing you?¡± I¡¯m on my feet in a sh, action overtaking my brain, like always with me. Banging my ass on the table in my unsteadiness but I manage to get out from behind it, so I¡¯m stood in front of him. I know my butt is probably going to be left with a bruise, it¡¯s throbbing from the impact, but I don¡¯t care. Anger overtakes with a fierce heat of sheer rage and my eyes sting with unconcealed fury as I try to kill him with a death re. The guy slides up, towering over me with an even wider smile that makes me want to w his eyes out, his rancid breath hitting me in the face hard and I recoil a little. I stifle my instant gag reflex. He¡¯s got a gangly build, dark hair with darker eyes and he has the aura of slimeball oozing from every pore. His attractiveness gone now he is facing me down like I¡¯m some dirty little tramp. Rage and fear mingle to create one confusing ball of tension that affects every part of my soul, and yet I know I won¡¯t back down. I¡¯m crazily stupid in this way and couldn¡¯t back down if my life depended on it. Even when my sperm donor beat me to a pulp for fighting back and trying to stop him, I still did it; Still stood up to the asshole. ¡°I won¡¯t tell him you were kissing some other guy if you let me fuck you over that table, it¡¯s pretty secluded back here. Hell, it¡¯ll be our little secret.¡± He tries to run a grubby finger between my exposed breasts in my clingy top, sucking in his bottom lip grotesquely. Nausea rises in my throat, burning with the sudden surge of it, the urge to punch him in his. I grimace, screwing up my face in sheer repulsion, hunching my shoulders forward so my skin is inched out of the contact, and he barely grazes me. It still has the same effect of a full-on grope and makes me want to scrape my own skin off with a dull de and burn it. Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org. My rage and disgust tumble freely from every pore of my body, so sick to death with everything, including shit like this. That bubbling inner Sophie, that I try so hard to control, jumps out and ps the bastard hard in the face with a stinging hit that reverberates down my own arm; my skin burns with the sheer force of the contact. The hit sends him reeling off to one side, shocked and caught off guard, but he doesn¡¯t fall. My eyes glued to what I have just done. Chapter 6: 6 Chapter 6: 6 My chest heaves with the ferocity of it and then the sudden pang of absolute fear that I just made a stupid impulsive mistake and notch this up to a code red. My body caught in a wave of icy coldness, sweeping over every limb and calming my jets. I know I pretty much just triggered a violent reaction in a guy who clearly has no issue with victimizing women. ¡°You little ¡­¡± He jumps to his feet, a hand rising aggressively as a storm rages in his eyes, scowling furiously, and I can tell I¡¯m about to be pped back with pissed male aggression that will render me useless. His face is twisted in seething hatred, moving fast, and I¡¯m suddenly powerless to do anything, paralyzed in what feels like a time pause. It¡¯s like my body is too stunned to react and even though I see iting, I freeze. Bracing for impact and knowing I have no chance to get out of this. I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me and it¡¯s like I see it all happening in slow motion. His hand is blocked with lightning speed by a muscr ck-sleeved arm, appearing in front of my face in such an instant that I¡¯m still recoiling in slow reaction. The tall, muscr body of a leather- jacketed male slides between us fully, shielding me behind him, and my whole inner self sweeps coolly with utmost relief. Arrick¡¯s aftershave surrounds me like a sudden familiar haven, a solid shield of pure muscle and a beacon in the dark. That wave of cold turns to tingles and internal shakes of sheer relief, my body instantly slumping and falling forwards to lean into him as the adrenaline turns me into a mess of jellified uselessness. ¡°I swear if you don¡¯t turn around and walk off right now, then you¡¯ll be taking all meals from a tube, Dickhead.¡± Arrick snarls in that husky Carrero tone of the most perfect male voice I¡¯ve ever known. My boy! Like familiar soothing music that just makes you whole. Bristling with aggression and dwarfing the other man with his sheer build of alpha intimidation in all his glory. Arrick is hitting the six-foot-one mark, maybe more nowadays, and his build has gotten a lot wider and stronger since he matured and started professional fighting. He¡¯s a vision of physical perfection that goes so well with the face of male gorgeousness I could never find a fault in. Arrick has always been the poster boy for my idea of the perfect man. I don¡¯t see ws or fault in any single tiny inch of him. I creep and twist my fingers into the back of his leather jacket, sighing with relief and letting every ounce of emotion seep away into silence with the calming presence he always is. Curling the hem in my palms and leaning myself softly against his back to breathe deeply. Resting my cheek against him, the warm soft leather and body heat, that is as wee as his smell, seeps into me and calms me down, rxing me fully. Secure in the protective shield he always is, and I use him to keep myself upright since my legs have started shaking. I know I¡¯m safe; I can stop caring about everything, stop fending for myself and let him take the lead like he always does. ¡°Your girlfriend¡¯s a whore!¡± The other man spits back. I snap up my chin and re through Arrick¡¯s body, even though he can¡¯t see me behind him, and I don¡¯t want him too. Arry tenses at the insult, willing himself not to react, to keep his cool. I know without seeing his face he¡¯ll be a picture of complete effortless intimidation. He¡¯s a master ofposure and right now, despite all his fight cylinders firing fully, he is in control. ¡°Yet, she knocked you back! Says it all, buddy!¡± Arrick leans away from me and I know it¡¯s to re into the guy¡¯s face and threaten him, all icy coolposure sweeping off him in droves. One thing he mastered young in life was how to assert authority and dominate when he needs to, and it never fails him. He has that same Carrero aggression as his father and brother, but rarely has to go beyond a threat. A look is usually enough. He has an icy manner and silent scariness. Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org. The other man slides off, tripping over the edge of the seat before running like a scared rabbit. Arrick watches him disappear into the smoky atmosphere, deathly still for a moment as that tremor of nerves surges through me. I know that I¡¯m probably about to get the third degree and it makes my stomach ache. He turns towards me slowly, catching my hand behind him and pulling it so I¡¯m drawn to face him, that mask of indifference firmly in ce and eyes zoning in on mine intensely. Even though it¡¯s dark, I know those hazel eyes will have more than a few flecks of green, sparkling in the depths. They be obvious and intense when he¡¯s pissed. My stomach flickers again, nerves making me uneasy. My lip finds its way between my teeth nervously as the hammering of my heart returns. His eyes go to the childish gesture and he knits his brows in irritation. ¡°What was that?¡± He frowns at me, anger well hidden beneath that cool and calm exterior in which he excels, but I catch that tight tone under the silky deep depths of that smooth voice. Arrick never really lets much out publicly, he¡¯s a guy who hates drama and making a scene, hates being overly emotional, and has only gotten so much worse since dating Natasha. The queen of proper and prude, she¡¯s practically an emotional cripple, publicly anyway. ¡°A creep wanting sex.¡± I shrug nonchntly, trying to pass it off and not hint at how terrified or angry I was seconds before. I still have this inability to ever let anyone see me as vulnerable and incapable in any way; even him sometimes, welltely anyway. Good old Sophie¡¯s self-defense system at its finest. ¡°Sophs, this shit is getting old.¡± Arrick tugs me with him by the hand, turning away without waiting for more of a response and that sinking ache hits me again. His manner is all hostile, even if to the untrained eye he seems fine. He¡¯s mad at me. Entangling fingers snugly with mine to secure me to him. Despite the nerves inside of me, I still get that warm tug of euphoria I always get with his touch; that familiaring home as he leads the way towards the dance floor to exit this shithole. I can only follow mutely as we are again enveloped by the worst of the body thumping noise around us when we near the source of it, making my heart thump in time to the beat and worsens the nausea that¡¯s still lingering. I force myself to take long, deep, and even breaths to control it. My head starting to ache now the alcohol level in my blood has dwindled, even more with that tense little scene. Nothing helps sober you up like a nice little bit of nasty drama before bed. It¡¯s obvious he¡¯s pissed and not his normal soothing self with calming words and tissues at the ready. I stare at his strong shoulders as we move through the crowd, him powerfully parting a path for us easily and I follow, feeling young and stupid. He has a knack for bringing it out in me when I¡¯ve clearly misbehaved. The vibesing off him in droves that he¡¯s as fed up with this whole scene as I am. My lip trembles with a new wave of emotion, eyes stinging, and I force it back down into the heavy ache in my chest, like a ball of weight, threatening to copse my heart and lungs. Too tired to even fight it anymore. When we get outside into the night air my legs seem to jellify, fresh air bringing back some of that swirling head mess that I thought I was losing. As he lets me go to walk ahead to the car, I stumble into the back of him clumsily. Catching my heel on an uneven paving stone as I have zero ability to avoid it. My stomach jolts and heart lurches with the sudden trip, catching his arm and the back of his jacket to stop myself eating dirt by face palming the sidewalk. Arrick catches me, turning as I go down as though sensing it, under my elbow with his fast reflexes before pulling me forward and into his arm. He wraps it around my back and waist snugly, lifting me against him like I weigh no more than a child. His familiar body against mine brings a sense of security; a stark contrast to every male on the, but never him. Arry is one of the few men who get to touch me without conditions, without reaction. Something even my adopted brothers don¡¯t have full permission to do, and my dad is only slightly better. Arry never brings on any of the uneasiness or recoiling anxiety from within. From almost day one so many years ago, he has been the only person who didn¡¯t make me feel like they were invading my space or triggering the panic button. His touch brings only reassurance. I mastered the sea of emotions when ites to my male family members touching me, and often hide my reactions to cuddles and affectionate touches, to not upset them. None of them really know how I am deep down with affections that should be normal. It makes me feel ashamed and broken, so I try to ignore it, knowing that I should be able to ept a loving hug or a kiss on the cheek without a sense of deep mistrust and a heavy aching thud in my gut. But with Arrick, I have nothing to hide at all. My