The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

I inhale deeply, savoring the memory as I wander into the middle of Arrick’s apartment from the elevator, while he follows with our
bags and dumps them by the end of the couch as I take in the open-plan space with joy. I haven’t been here in months and its
sheer familiarity is making me feel calm, like coming home. Instantly still inside, like breathing warm soothing air after being out
in the cold and I inhale slowly, the atmosphere washing over me. Welling up at how much I missed this place too. It smells like
home-cooked food, men’s aftershave, leather, books, and something familiar and clean. It’s a weird combination but it’s how it
always smells, bringing back so many mixed emotions.
Arrick’s apartment has always been a place I love to be, as it’s so very him; modern mixed with traditional. Open plan and
industrial, yet with old battered armchairs and new comfy couches. A mix of old bookcases and steel framed shelves holding a
collection of books, decorative pieces and picture frames. Walls lined with both abstract art and photographic prints in an array of
wood, metal, and concrete frames. He has very male tastes, yet he is also a little eclectic and sentimental.
His kitchen is all steel and dark wood, minimal, and usually immaculate, but I notice a discarded box on the counter and what
appears to be a broken picture frame on the surface next to it with a mess of glass spread carelessly across it and the floor. I
move towards it impulsively, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder, frowning at the sight of it and steps out in front of me
to go towards it.
“I’ll deal with it.” He throws me a light smile and leaves me to get myself comfy. Left to look around and reacquaint myself with
my home away from home.
I pull off my coat and glance over to see him picking up the pieces until he pulls the picture free, looks it over, and then leans in
to look over the box that is sat open. He frowns harder and reaches inside, lifting out a book and dropping it back in.
“Tasha. She was supposed to pick up what was left of her stuff and leave my key card back with Frank. Guess she was a lot
more pissed than I gave her credit for.” He drops the photo in the box and turns to open a cupboard to retrieve a brush and pan
to clear up the mess. I wander over, eyeing up the broken shards and lean up to catch a glimpse inside the box. The picture is
facing up, a love portrait picture of Arrick and Natasha at a wedding or party, leaning in together to pose. I can’t say it doesn’t
affect me because it does. A horrible sick feeling and a wave of chest pain that I try to push away.
Underneath is an assortment of things I recognize as Arrick’s; a sweater he wears a lot when he trains, and I have even worn on
the odd occasion, a book, some DVDs, a couple of T-shirts and some toiletries. I move away, not wanting to keep coming back
to the picture staring up at me. Looking at the broken frame instead.

“She broke this? Why?” I lift my hand to touch the picture frame, to wipe away some of the shards scattered across it, but Arrick
catches my hand in mid-air.
“You’ll cut yourself, baby, let me clear it up.” He kisses my hand before moving it back and letting it go, to sweep off the pieces
quickly. I watch him quietly, keeping my hands out of the way and try to let this go, let any talk of her go over my head.
“My guess is she came here when she landed, and this is her way of telling me to go fuck myself. It wasn’t exactly pleasant this
morning.” He furrows his brow as he opens another cupboard and throws the pan contents in a concealed trash can.
Domestically capable and showcasing his pretty hot physique when doing anything manual, like bending and showing off an ogle
worthy tight ass.
“This was your picture?” I can tell by the style of the frame that it matches ones he has in his bedroom. The grey concrete
frames, too masculine for the dainty pink and floral tastes of Natasha. I hate that she came here and broke something that
belonged to him, even if she was in it too.
“It was. It was still sitting in my study along with stuff I had for her to pick up.” As though suddenly reminding himself, he turns
and walks off to the side of the room to go check and comes back with a box. He places it next to Natasha’s box and lifts the lid,
looking inside and chewing on his lip. “She’s taken what she wants I guess.” He closes it again and piles the two boxes together.
Sliding them farther over to the corner of the counter to deal with later, eyeing me up warily. Attention coming back to me now
that he has dealt with her little tantrum and I stare back at him with a heavy sigh.
“If you broke up over two months ago, why are you now only trading items?” I eye him suspiciously, watching the small shake of
his head as he looks at me with an indulgent appraisal and a raised brow, seeing hints of the green-eyed me coming out to play.
My direction on this topic is clearly unsettling him, and he probably thinks a storm is brewing, considering the delicate nature of
this particular subject.
“She was a little too emotional the past few weeks; what with us and her dad, so I didn’t see it as majorly important. I guess this
sort of symbolizes that she finally realizes we are done and not going back.” He seems a little mournful for a moment, that hint of
guilt breaking through, but it disappears behind that cool façade quickly and I wonder if he ever misses her at all, the way he
missed me.
“She didn’t accept it before?” I hate talking about this but as usual, my inquisitiveness is my biggest flaw, overtaking my
impulsive instinct to ban all conversation that concerns Natasha. I want to know more about what’s been going on between them
since I left here. A part of me wants to fill in the blank spaces, even if it hurts me. I want to trust him so badly.

“She was clinging to the hope that I still loved her enough to fix things. Only problem being, I realized if I ever loved her at all
then I would never have thrown away everything for you. I guess I never loved her in the way I thought I did. It was hard for her
to deal with that and she is still struggling to come to terms with it. Not that I blame her ... I truly turned out to be a major
shithead, to both of you.” Arrick turns and switches on his coffee machine, pulling out the drawer compartments to check if his
housekeeper has refilled it and then hits the front power button. Turning back to me with a sigh, eyes scanning me softly. I start
fiddling with my nails, watching him while my brain runs through a hundred questions and niggles that I am not sure I even dare
to put out there.
It’s not that his confessions and adorations don’t get to me, they do. Everything he ever says tells me that this is real, it makes
my heart soar and insides react. I am too wary to really show him anything just yet still feeling this out. Arrick’s face seems to
straighten suddenly, his expression taking on a serious tone and he reaches for my hand, pulling it to his and wrapping it within
his fingers protectively.
“Look, I need to be honest about this. I still answer her calls and I still talk to her if I run into her somewhere. I don’t make a point
of seeing her, but sometimes she shows up. I’m still her friend and I want her to move on; if being in her life for a while longer
helps her then that’s what I’m going to do. This stuff with her dad sealed the deal, she isn’t in a good place right now. I don’t want
this to affect us, but I don’t want to hide this from you either.” Arrick leans his butt on the counter across from me so his head
comes closer, catching my chin with his fingertips and tilting my face up to him tenderly. So much going on in those eyes of his
and I really want to be able to believe him and not feel like his words are slicing my soul.
“You have nothing to worry about. I’m yours. You’re mine. No one is going to come between us if we don’t let them, and I am
sure as hell not about to go looking anywhere else. It may have taken losing you to realize how much I fall to pieces without you,
but I’m not an idiot that makes the same mistake twice. I know where my heart is, Sophs, it’s always wherever you are.” His
focus on my face is mesmerizing, I bring my brows together and swallow hard in a bid to get my emotions to behave. Smiling
softly, acknowledging that I do love what he is telling me, trying to show a little more to him when he’s being so beautiful to me.
His softening look tells me he sees it.
The spurt of the coffee machine makes him look around for a second, straightening up before coming back the breakfast bar and
sliding up behind me snugly, arms encircling my waist as he rests his body against me. My stomach lurching, heart aching as I
take deep slow and even breaths in a bid to keep it together. He always knows how to set me off so effortlessly and I wonder if
this is how Emma feels anytime Jake touches her.
I’m still holding my tongue, a thousand petty things poised childishly inside my mind, insecurely, waiting to pour out concerning
his speech about her, but I know how immature and selfish that would make me. I know she is close to her parents and her

father’s illness will be ripping her. Being a nurse means she probably knows without any doubt that he is dying. I flinch at the
wave of deep guilt concerning her and it cements my inability to tell him how I wish he would just cut all ties with her for me.
Selfish girl.
He brushes my hair back, so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of my shoulder, letting me sag into him and I let out a small
sigh of satisfaction, contentment. He’s learning fast in such a short space of time how to weaken my resolve, how to touch me for
maximum impact. I always knew he was clever at certain things, I guess this is something he is very good at too.
“Sophie, you know me. I hope you still trust me enough to believe me. I’ve never been this way with anyone, even Natasha. That
has to tell you how I feel about you.” He pushes me gently with his knees behind my legs, so I into his hold. I push my butt back
into his groin naughtily in retaliation, the mood lifting at his playfulness. Pushing all other thoughts aside, for now, unable to ruin
this moment.
“I do, I believe you.” I respond softly, leaning my head back against his throat, closing my eyes at how it feels to be in his arms
this way. So many times, I thought of how this could be, missed how this felt, missed him and his touch. He runs his fingers down
my throat gently.
“I never got the whole mushy touchy-feely thing Jake is all about, the constant touching and smooching Emma, twenty-four
seven. Never really someone who wanted to walk around pawing at my girlfriend or spend copious amounts of time only wanting
to be alone to paw my girlfriend. Natasha used to joke about the fact that I was allergic to too much intimacy. Sophie, it’s never
been like that with you, ever. I want to be close to you, I have always just touched you, hugged you, held your hand and been
comfortable being attached to you, even when it was innocent. I have always wanted you with me, no matter how often I saw
you. You were my shadow for years and it’s only now I realize it’s because I wanted to be with you all the time, that touching you
was a necessity.” He turns me in his arms, so I can rest my butt against the counter, his fingers trailing down my exposed arms,
making them tingle. Eyes locked on one another steadily. “I know in myself how different this is. Because all I have wanted to do
since we kissed again was to be wrapped around you, touching you, being connected to you somehow, even if it’s sat beside
you on a plane and holding hands.” His fingers come to mine and connect, completely intertwined.
I chew my lip, heart aching with everything he is saying, eyes glazed with emotion. There’s a lump in my throat from how
beautifully romantic Arrick can be, underneath all the cool and aloof he shows the world. I never thought it would be like that with
him.
The plane journey with our friends and Nathan was minus Jake; just a group of hungover people going back to the city. Nathan
and Christian slept for the hour-long flight while Jenny gazed out the window daydreaming sleepily, leaving Arrick and me

together. Side by side with hands held under cover of the table and I leaned my head against him. Listening to his heartbeat as
he read a book and I napped in and out of consciousness. He hadn’t let go until we got up to leave the plane, not once, and then
didn’t let go until we got out of the car at his apartment and carried our bags.
“I like that you’re like this.” I finally say, his hand trailing up to my jawline, tracing my lips with his thumb, eyes focused on my
mouth and the obvious desire to kiss me. Starting to recognize the tell-tale signs of eyes dilated, brows slightly tensed to a tiny
frown, the serious deadpan focus on my lips. He is easy to read when you know how, and I love the fact that he seems to want to
kiss me endlessly. Even when he isn’t kissing me, he’s usually thinking about it. “There is definitely a lot of fire and passion
underneath that very sexy chest, waiting to get out I think.” I prod him in the pec with a smile. Loving the way it feels to be able to
touch him without any boundaries, or hesitation. I feel like exploring every part of him with inquisitive fingers and have to stop
myself from lifting his shirt to go peeking.
“I guess it’s been dormant for a long while. Or maybe I just didn’t have enough sexual chemistry with anyone to let it out, until
you.” He grins cheesily and I roll my eyes.
“Stop! Chat up lines are lame, and I happen to know, also bullshit. You were definitely a Lothario before you settled down. I may
not have been privy to your naughty antics, but I sure as hell heard the rumors, and you stupidly told me things you shouldn’t
have.” I slide out of his embrace and flit into the kitchen as the coffee jug starts to fill up, reaching for mugs in the cupboard
above. He moves to where I’d been standing and takes up the same leaning down posture he had before, arms resting on the
counter as he watches me ready our drinks.
“Reformed my ways ... just for you. Want to have a jacuzzi out on the roof and then come down here for a movie before bed?
Pretty sure there’s a bikini you left here in my drawer from that party last year.” He is watching me with that infuriating poker face
and smiles when I eye roll at his obvious lameness.
My mind flits back to that party and the fact he split up a drunken brawl between me and Natasha that night, before forcing me to
go to bed in his spare room. Shrugging it away I glance at him slyly.
“Or you know, we could skinny dip.” I lift my chin with a naughty smile, completely serious. Not against seeing that perfectly
sculpted body of tanned skin and black ink again, since it is clearly etched in my memory. I don’t have any issue being naked
with him again either.
“We could ... but we’re not.” He stands up, stretching his arms out over his head and joining fingers so he can ease out his
shoulder muscles. It’s instantly erotic to me the way his body elongates and moves fluidly, all muscle and beautiful masculine

lines making me hot from within. I realize I am openly staring, and he catches my eye with a smile.
“Why not?” I pout as he returns to his casual pose. From sex demon to sexy lounging model. I think I am going to like playing
with my eye candy of a man in a jacuzzi.
“Because, seeing you naked again will seriously mess with my calm, especially when you are within arm’s reach. I am struggling
to function on the memory of you in all your glory as it is.” He takes the mug I have now slid across to him gratefully, lifting it to
take a sip while holding it around the base with fingers through the handle. He is such a guy in every way, and I find myself lifting
eyebrows with complete amusement at this fact. I never noticed until now how many completely ‘guy’ mannerisms he has.
“Hmm, I doubt that very much, I’m almost boy shaped.” I gaze down at my mug then go snooping in the cupboard for creamer.
“Trust me, there’s nothing boy shaped about you, Sophie, not anymore. Maybe when you were fourteen, but you have definitely
moved into a woman’s shape a little too perfectly. You attract male eyes like flies to honey, baby, you’re just oblivious to it.”
I frown his way dubiously, regarding that genuine look and knowing he means it. Taking a look down almost impulsively in an
almost childlike manner to see what he is seeing. All I can see is slender legs, a flat stomach, and a modest bust. Everything
slim and in proportion, a little on the dainty side for my liking but nothing like the curvy bodies of some of the women I have seen
him date over the years.
“Maybe I’ll fill out still, guess there’s still time.” I smile his way with a shrug, not body shy at all and not really that insecure,
despite a past that used to make me hate my body on all counts. Therapy has done so much for me, but I still fail to see myself
as sexy and curvy in any way and try to dress to make me look more so.
“You don’t need to fill out, trust me. You are already capable of making men horny as hell, Mimmo. The number of assholes I’ve
had to intervene with on your behalf proves that. You can count me as one.” He winks, that naughty hint of a smile as his eyes
linger on me for a second as he works his way up over my body lazily. Definite interest peeking in that cheeky eyebrow wiggle he
gives me. It’s amazing how one loaded look can turn me to mush and sizzle at the same time and he isn’t even touching me. I
swallow nervously, trying to deflect from the topic I started and realize this will be a whole new part of the relationship between
us to explore at some point. It makes me unsure suddenly, antsy and I look for another topic to focus on.
“I’m sorry I did that to all of you. I mean all the drinking and partying and acting like an idiot for years.” I bite on my lip, looking
away across the immaculate room with a sinking feeling in my gut. One thing I have done since starting school is pondered and
regret the last couple of years all the time, hating what I look back on it and all the pain it caused the people who love me. How
childish I was in dealing with things and how I behaved towards everyone, including him.

“I’m beyond sorry I didn’t figure out it was because of me, Sophs. I just thought you were going off the rails like Leila did and
nothing seemed to get through to you.” We’re both cradling our mugs, perched on either side of the counter and looking at one
another openly. The first time we have talked with any space between us in the last hours, I guess I need some distance for a
few minutes.
“It wasn’t your fault, I didn’t even know why I felt that way.” I shrug matter of factly, dismissing his blame for something he had no
control over at the time. Hating that I can now look back and see the mess I was, and yet he didn’t give up on me in all that time.
It makes me warm inside, softer towards him at the memories.
“For the record ... I’m glad that you feel that way; I’m glad that things changed between us.” He lays down his mug, standing up
and laying his palms flat on the counter as though pondering whether he should stay there or come to me. I guess he can tell
that I might need some breathing space, but I can also tell that he isn’t liking the lack of touching going on. He’s been insatiable
for contact since this morning.
“You don’t wish it was still how it was, and you were still ignorantly happy with Tasha?.” I blurt out a little too painfully and raise a
brow his way. I don’t even know what that was, what I am trying to achieve.
Testing the boundaries maybe?