The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

Arrick moves out of reach and wanders to the fridge, opening it to rummage the contents and pulls out some labelled tubs. His
housekeeper is paid to keep it stocked and easy for him when he wants to eat; his strict diet when in training means he eats a lot
of healthy foods and high protein, but he is rummaging for something else. It’s early morning, he woke me up with his alarm and
now he’s showered and ready to go to the gym at stupid o’clock even though I am half asleep and struggling to get ready for
school.
Who even does that on purpose?
We were up so late, watching movies, fooling around and even had a little steamy make-out session that could have gone a lot
further if he wasn’t such a gentleman. I am suffering now though as I watch him, still in my clothes from last night, finding some
breakfast before he takes me home to get ready properly. Normally I wouldn’t be up for another hour at least, but I don’t want to
get a cab home this tired and dragging my weekend bags with me.
“I want to go back to bed.” I whine petulantly, tiredness making me grumpy. I’ve never been a morning person and rub my eyes
and head groggily. Arrick throws me back an indulgent smile and goes back to raiding the fridge, pulling out what looks like
oatmeal and fruit.
Ughhhh, he’s trying to poison me.
I join him at the fridge and poke around the huge pile of clear tubs with various titles. Spying a Chinese takeout box, I pull it
forward and am disappointed to see it is being used to hold a variety of chopped peppers and salad.
“Do you never just want to grab a greasy dog and a chocolate bar?” I screw my nose up and dig deeper into the depths of
organized eating; his fridge is a poster child for healthy living and organic goodness. There is nothing in here that even slightly
calls to me to be eaten.
“Not at six a.m., Sophie, no. You really do worry me sometimes with your eating habits. Please tell me you have not been fending
for yourself with hot dogs and candy for the last three months.” He runs an eye over my body as though to check if he might
have missed any obvious signs of malnutrition and I eye roll. I pull out a box without a label and sigh at diced chicken with some
sort of seasoning that is obviously marinating for another meal.
“I want pancakes.” I sniff a tub of dressing and stick a finger in to taste it, hoping it’s some sort of syrup and screw my face up at
its chili taste. Wiping it off my tongue with my nail and catch him looking at me like I’m some sort of alien creature he found in his
kitchen.

“Baby, I haven’t got time to make them right now. Just grab something quick so we can get ready and go. I have to get you
home, so you can get ready. I need to meet Nate before five-thirty at the gym.” Arrick throws two containers back in the fridge
and pulls out a carton of fresh orange instead. Pouring two glasses beside the two bowls of oatmeal and fruit.
He must be insane if he thinks I am eating that crap.
“I don’t like you anymore.” I sigh. Pushing the fridge shut dejectedly and eyeing up the plates he is now carrying to the table.
“I know. Come on, I want to make sure you eat before I drop you off. I know how lazy you can be in the morning and you’re then
starving by lunch.” He’s bossy this morning, a return to Arry of old and no longer pandering to my every whim while he’s in
paternal mode. I stick my tongue out at him behind his back.
“Let’s go now and find a convenience store to stock up on junk food, I cannot come over here if you do not have a good supply
for my womanly needs. Chocolate is a must, Cheetos ... we need some Pepsi for sure.” I slump back against the counter once
more as he turns and gives me that commandeering narrowed gaze frown, making me obey and I follow him to what looks like
granola, with fruit, and maybe milk, maybe yoghurt. Natasha comes to mind and I screw up my face in disgusting memory. I
follow him anyway and sit in my usual seat, sliding down as he pushes my bowl towards me and digs into his own. I hate that he
is a sexy eater, it just draws attention to the muscles in his face and that crazily strong jaw, those perfectly soft, not overly full lips
that were invented for kissing
“You eat like a kid; your diet is awful. I don’t know how you are so thin and toned for someone who eats like a sugar-addicted
five-year-old.” Arrick scalds me, pushing my plate back at me as I push it away, with a raised brow that signals he’s not in the
mood. I push it sideways and lay my head on the table dramatically. Too tired to eat and hating that I have even met five a.m. on
purpose. He has no idea how unhealthy for my disposition this is.
“I don’t know how you got so beefy and muscular for someone who eats like a rabbit.” I stick my tongue out at him from my flat
posture and start running my finger in circles on the surface. Praying something falls out of the sky which is both edible and
energy-boosting.
“Well, if you’re staying here a lot then get used to it, as you are not going to be living on Cheetos and Pepsi. I don’t mind the
occasional splurge when I’m on a training break, but I don’t want you living on that crap, Sophs. I had to lose like ten pounds
after getting lazy with you, I am not doing that again.” He frowns at me and then pushes my foot under the table with his to get
me to sit up.

“Fine we will stay at mine then. You can bring your rabbit food and leave me to my fridge of cold pizza, takeout and junk food.” I
sigh and bury my face on top of my outstretched arms, ignoring his attempts to get me upright, closing my eyes in a bid to sleep
on the table. I feel like hell and now I am wishing I didn’t spend copious hours playing tonsil tennis with one very practiced
Carrero and slept more.
“You do realize this is me your talking too? I will clean out your fridge and restock it, you’re my girlfriend now, meaning I have
more say.” He sounds like he’s smiling, and I look up to see him grinning at me while eating his gross food. Finding himself
utterly amusing and yet weirdly I do not.
“Oh, for a minute I thought Jake was here ... You can only dream that you get to boss me around the way he does.” I sit up and
narrow my eyes at him, not about to take any crap from him at all, especially over food. I even might let the girlfriend comment
slide, seeing as I have not agreed to any such thing yet.
“Maybe I need a list of things I do get to boss you around over.” He narrows his gaze back at me, I guess testing the waters at
my lack of picking him up on the girlfriend label.
“Setting ground rules or telling you which things are not your concern?” I raise my eyebrows cheekily at him, smirking and
relaxing into the old atmosphere we always had. I feel better after sleep, even if I haven’t had enough and I am getting used to
his presence again, falling into our roles from before. I like that we haven’t lost the bickering banter and passive-aggressive
affection from before. That was something I always loved about us.
“We need ground rules. First one being I won’t have my girl eating crap all the time, it may not affect you now, but it will
eventually. Besides, the crabby ass moods you get in would probably improve with a better diet.” He raises one dark brow, that
slight smug hint of a smirk in the depths.
“I think you are probably the cause of those crabby ass moods, like ninety-nine percent of the time. I’ll change my diet in small
ways if you give me full-body massages once a week.” I retort sassily, head thinking how good it will feel to let him strip me
naked for that. I always did imagine what it would be like and I guess I get to experience it now. Perks of Arry as my boyfriend, I
guess. I kind of like that title, maybe I should permanently let the girlfriend label slide.
“Deal. I’ll give you more than one a week if you like. I’ll give them daily.” He winks, and I can see this conversation taking a
different turn. I narrow my gaze at him, breaking when he chuckles and pokes me on the end of the nose with his thumb,
returning to his crappy breakfast.

“Okay with that sorted, let’s talk sleepovers. After tonight I am back in training and I am overseeing a new merger in Carrero
Corp, so would be easier if you stayed here with me some nights a week. That’s if you want to stay with me?” He pauses mid
spoonful and flickers a glance down at me, looking incredibly young and boyish at that moment.
“We’re not doing sex, but we’re doing sleepovers?” I frown at him, confused why he would want that if he knows we are not
going to do anything that requires a bed.
“Why not? I still want you beside me some nights even if it makes me take a dozen cold showers.” He smiles again and goes on
crunching on his food, completely dismissive of any weirdness in that sentence. My stomach rumbles involuntarily and I eye up
the bowl a little defeatedly. Pondering whether I can eat it or not and knowing if I don’t I will literally starve. I don’t do well on lack
of food.
“I need to be home sometimes, to work, to study. I don’t know what nights.” I answer childishly, pouting over my lack of pancakes
and staring out past the ceramic bowl to the New York skyline from his wide windows. It’s raining today, and the sky is overcast,
not that it’s important in any way but I realize how nice the view is from here at this time of the day.
“I’m not trying to pressure you to stay, just if you want to, then I want you to know it’s an open offer, Sophs. I would have you with
me every night.” He draws my attention back to him with a little worried look and I smile at him to ease his tension.
“Okay.” I answer, not sure what else to say really. Yes, I want to be here with him too but no, I am not ready to throw all in and
give him everything while I still feel like I need time. There is a part of me that still thinks he needs to work for this a little,
stubborn Sophie who won’t back down.
“I’m sorry if I’m being pushy, I know I’m getting ahead of myself. I really want you here, want this to work.” Again, he looks so
young and wary and it makes me feel crappy. I sigh and tilt my head up, moving to sit up properly.
“I want that too, I know you’re not being pushy. I just need a little breathing space, to get my head around this.” I shrug, unable to
look him in the eye for a moment because I know it’s not the answer he wants.
“I understand baby; Please eat, Sophs. I can’t take you home unless you do. I hate seeing you living on pancakes and sundaes.”
He cuts in, changing the topic because he obviously realizes it’s not the time to go into this. I need time and he promised me I
could have it.
“Ughhh, for God’s sake. I think I’m going to rename you Jake!” I snap; never a morning person and hating how nagging he can
be sometimes. He’s worse than my mom.

“Jake would get fewer arguments from you. You do what he tells you.” He points out with a frown, a little hint of attitude because
it’s true. But then Jake is my godfather and he can be one scary dude when he wants to be.
“Jake’s less of an ass than you are.” I retort, leaning out and picking up the spoon in my bowl to mix the mixture of food
childishly.
“Thanks, I love you too, Sophs.... Okay, back to this ... I train every weekday morning and twice in the evening; I can never
schedule my work rota at Carrero Corp as lately it’s been hectic so really, we are going to have to take each day as it comes in
terms of dating. I also have a fight in three weeks, I need to fly to Miami a week before. I guess I’ll have to plan everything
around all that.” He pushes my bowl back towards me when he sees me playing with it and I give him a look that equates to ‘I am
still not eating it’ that is met with a frown.
“Check us being all proper grown-up and organized. Do I need a calendar to write this all down?” I smirk at him, slapping his
hand off when he tries to pick up my spoon to push at me.
“A spank maybe, how about you just text me daily and tell me when to pick you up. I’ll tell you when I can’t. I meant what I said. I
would see you every second of every day if you let me.” He sighs heavily, eyes homed in on my lack of eating and I refrain from
sticking my tongue out at Mr. Frustrating. over there.
“Why does this feel the same?” I sigh, eyeing him up with scrutiny suddenly, wondering if it’s normal that we have reverted back
to us of old. Suddenly wondering what that even means.
“What do you mean? Same as what?” He stops and glances up at me from his bowl, looking at me like he has no clue what I
mean. A teeny hint of concern in the depths.
“All of this seems just like when we used to make plans to go off skiing or to hang out, it doesn’t feel different. We’re being so ...
normal.” I wave my hands about to emphasize my point and then flop onto my elbows once more, caging my bowl. Arrick
straightens and shrugs at me, eyes on my food that I am once again stirring absentmindedly.
“Because it is normal, relationships are like this, Sophie. Best mates who also fuck and kiss a lot. No other dates or people in the
way, but like we were, with a whole lot more intimacy and touching.” He shrugs with one shoulder, looks relieved and goes back
to what he was doing, reaching out to stop me from sending the contents of my bowl over the edge with the way I am messing
with it. He stills my hand and pushes the darn thing back at me more forcefully this time.
“What did you think it would be like?” He adds in afterthought.

“I don’t know. Awkward maybe. That it would be, or feel different, and not feel so normal and non-scary. I thought it would be
something new and kinda weird.” I watch that perfectly calm face, the twinge of a neat eyebrow as he takes in what I am saying
and the little smile that breaks the corner of his mouth. I also pick up my spoon and go straight back to drawing patterns in my
granola so that some sploshes on the table in the most satisfying way. He looks at me like he maybe is rethinking the spanking
comment and eats.
“When we get to sex it will change the dynamics a little, but generally, we already had a close relationship. That’s why we’re
doing this slowly, so nothing is scary or overwhelming for you, baby. Just us like this and we will work up to more later if you want
to. This is how it really is; we already had something that worked.” He seems confident in the fact, while I just feel confused.
“Guess I’m used to guys who try to hump my leg constantly, fuck me about, leave me hanging, and screw my so-called mates
when they don’t get what they want.” I shrug this time and go back to torturing my food with my spoon. Complacent about my
dating past and not feeling anything about any of the scumbags who never deserved me anyway.
“None of that is ever going to happen with me. We have always been honest with each other. I might occasionally hump you
though when I get majorly horny from you doing things like this.” Raising a brow, he leans under the table and catches my foot
which has crept up his warm leg under of its own accord, wiggling toes up his leg, not thinking of what that had been doing to
him. With a warm hand around my heel, he lets my foot drop back to the floor with a furrowed cute look.
“Oops.” I blush and sit my feet together on the floor. Feeling a little cold on the wooden surface seeing as I am barefoot. Arrick
adjusts his sweatpants and carries on eating, shaking his head at me with the half-smile that sets his dimples off. Sighing heavily
that his girl about gave him a boner without intending too, with her foot because they were cold.
“Don’t ever be afraid to talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking and call me out on bullshit. We are no different to how we were,
only closer. I want us to be so much closer than we were.” He picks up his glass of orange and takes a long drink, watching me
carefully. Every mannerism controlled in his very Arrick way. I stare at him fascination as he drinks his squash, at his Adam’s
apple moving sexily in that strong neck.
“That sounds ... nice.” I answer, aware that he is a little too focused on me, eyes going straight back to my bowl with a brow
flicker as he puts his glass down.
For goodness sakes, stop obsessing, Arry!
“Eat, Sophie, for the love of God or I will literally spoon feed you.” Arrick looks at his watch and pushes my bowl back at me in
agitation after I eased it further out again; getting up now he has finished and gives me that Carrero glare. He is trying to exert a

little command and failing. I shake my head at him and meet a sigh of resignation.
“Okay, so we have all that agreed on ... Anything else?” I pout, pulling over the bowl and take a spoonful anyway, because now
his sighing has me feeling shitty when all he wants is to take care of me and his irritation is becoming evident. I am pleasantly
surprised that it actually tastes good and start to dig in while he takes his bowl to the sink and rinses it. He looks up, sees me
chewing and smiles impulsively. Happy that he thinks he has some sway over me when really, I didn’t think I could handle any
more of his womanly whining.
“You tell me. Is there anything you want to talk about or set in stone?” He asks pointedly. I have to admit it’s odd to see him
standing washing dishes at five a.m. while dressed in gym clothes and looking weirdly ... domestic. And that brings a certain
1950s aspiring housewife to mind.
I ponder telling him to cut Natasha off once and for all, but hold my tongue, knowing that it is selfish and pathetically insecure,
and he already explained to me why he won’t. He won’t be impressed if I say screw her father’s cancer and kick her to the
sidewalk. The little brat voice in my head says I should demand it with bells on and yet Miss. Mature. who’s trying to be a better
person, tells me to keep it to myself if I want this relationship to go anywhere.
“I want to go out on proper dates.” I blurt out instead, not sure which part of my brain formulated that one when looking for an
alternative to burning Natasha in hellfire. I guess I want to experience that with him.
“Tell me where and we will. Or do you want me just to surprise you?” Arrick doesn’t even blink at my request, mind on planning
our life I guess, and it’s strangely reassuring to see him back like this. Back to the guy who would drop a trip on me, jump at an
idea and plan everything I said on a whim. He stopped being this guy when he was with her, like she sapped all the spontaneity
out of him and forced him into the quiet lane of life.
“The aquarium, and the zoo ... I miss skiing with you, and maybe we could do that rock climbing thing again in the sports place
you used to go to.” I lift my spoon and watch the contents pour back down into the bowl, mesmerized by the way it sploshes in
the milk before trying another spoonful and again being surprised that it still tastes edible. I’m hungry enough to eat it now and
decide I may not die if I allow him to feed me one healthy breakfast. My parents make me eat this kind of crap from time to time
so might as well face it.
“So, you want me to take you everywhere we used to go and do the things we did before I moved out here?” He laughs, eyeing
the mess I am making and says nothing. I wonder if that little OCD part of his brain is thinking about putting a bib on me and
maybe feeding me himself next time.

“U-huh, except you know ... you could throw in a lot of romance too. Maybe a candlelit picnic at the zoo or matching ski suits
with ‘I love Sophie forever’ written on your hat!” I shrug and stuff a huge mouthful in this time, crunching noisily even though
some of it has gone soggy.
Still tastes edible!
“You don’t want much do you, baby?” He chuckles, tossing the dishcloth he is using to the side and rolls his sleeves back down.
It’s oddly sexy seeing him being a house husband. “Sure, we could do all that and more.” He comes back to stand at his chair
casually and watches me continue eating, ungracefully. I wonder if eating like an untrained ape is sexy to him at all and judging
by the frown on his face right now, I guess not.
“I want Cheetos, Pepsi and a corn dog for dinner when I come home from school tonight.” I add, knowing fine well that after
enduring this for my start to the day, I deserve a decent meal later.