“You up and left me for some big city life and a girlfriend who doesn’t want me hanging out with you.
You left me! So I found my own way, and now because you don’t like it you think I should stop.” I smart,
biting hard, sounding every bit the catty bitch I have become over the past months. “See, the funny
thing is, you want me to go back to being your little sidekick, but you’re not even going to stick around
more than forty-eight hours to even see that I make it. Doesn’t sound like you really have any intention
of seeing me through anything.” I throw my shoes off into the open walk-in closet, rifle through the
display of shoes distractedly, and pull out some high black stilettos, studded with mini spikes from two
seasons ago that will work with this top. Trying to keep my cool so very painfully, I slide them on my
feet then haul out a matching belt and sling it around my low-rise jeans. Glam rock, to suit my ‘piss off, I
fucking hate you’ mood of right now.
Arrick frowns as he watches the outfit taking shape before his eyes. His whole body language
responding to the change in me, and I can see the evolution from caring and understanding to getting
pissed with how this is going. I no longer care, I am beyond trying to reel in that inner crazy in me, and
shoes and clothes are no longer having any effect.
“So, you’re just going to dress up and go out to get wrecked, right? You’re handling it so fucking well.
Four-hour drive home for absolutely fucking nothing, Sophs, round of applause.” He snaps; that cool
demeanor breaking once more and at super-fast speed for him. His eyes narrowed and sparking with
rage and jaw squaring as he grits his teeth to curb the temper. I straighten up and meet his scowl face-
on, glaring right fucking back at him with the fury of a girl who has been trampled on one too many
times, and disappointed that her one lifeline turned out to be a big fat nothing.
Despite Arrick’s cool outward persona there is no doubt he has that hot Italian Carrero blood in there
somewhere, and I always figured his time in the ring, beating opponents, helped to disperse it enough
to maintain calm everywhere else. He obviously needs a good boxing match soon or else he is in
serious Carrero explode mode. Part of me wonders what that would ever look like; years of cool control
dissipating and letting that underlying fierce and passion out. Part of me is edging stupidly to push and
see.
Yup, inner self-destruct mode for sure!
“You wanted me back here … I’m back! Now you get to go sail off into the sunset, patting yourself on
the back for the sterling job of delivering me home. Go! Go back to New York and Natasha. I don’t need
you here, I don’t need you anymore, and I never will. I’m fine by myself, I can handle my own shit from
now on without you running interference.” My voice raised, heart beating fast as anger floors me
internally, my head seems set on poking the bear with a big stick. I have obviously internally decided
that if I can’t have his support then I want his reaction, and even though mature Sophie is screaming at
me how stupid this is, childish Sophie is egging me on. I want to wound him the way he is wounding
me. I want a reaction from his icy self.
I myself only have two reactions to an angry Arry … either I cry and revert to wounded child, or I hate
him and lash out with any weapon I can. Right now, it’s the latter, and the words tumbling out of my
mouth are not even close to what I really mean. I’m mad and hurt that he is fucking leaving me again.
Just like he did two years ago when he moved to the city!
“Yeah, right, until the next drunken call to scrape you off another club floor, or stop some asshole taking
his violent tendencies out on you?” Arrick sneers, anger snapping in that beautifully glaring face, losing
his own ability to keep it all calm and wrapped up like Mr. Control. always does, but I only sneer back.
Never deterred when head-to-head in battle with him, and right now giving less than zero fucks about
how this is going to turn out.
“Don’t worry; I won’t be calling you anymore. It’s pretty clear that I’m more hassle than I’m worth and
dumping me back here is a sign that you don’t want to deal with me anymore. I get it loud and clear …
I’m not your problem from here on in!” I pull off bitch in so many ways, stance, frosty tone, and glare. If
it was any other douche in New York getting this side of me then I would high-five myself with a sense
of flawless achievement, but because it’s him, I just get a resounding sense of nausea clawing up
inside. That tiny inner voice trying so hard to remind me that this is Arry. My Arry! He is my heart and
clawing at it crazily will only wound me in return, but I block it out.
Despite all the cold and nasty words pouring from my mouth, deep down I’m in heart-wrenching agony,
like my insides are going to self-implode and I can’t breathe. The effort of holding myself in check and
the tears at bay are excruciating beneath that solid block of forming ice. I stamp it all down as best as I
can so that the surface stays unchanged.
I don’t want him to leave me, I want him to stay with me and take care of me like he always does. I
want him to help fix me and find the root of why everything has been falling to shit around me. I need
him. I always needed him.
“You’re a piece of work, Sophie. I see now that you’re not the same kid I adored. She had the sense to
take help when it was offered, and she did it gratefully. I don’t know where this version came from, but I
don’t like it; maybe we have just grown apart and this isn’t going to work anymore. You obviously
changed in the time you stayed away and this girl facing me now is not someone I want to know, or
even know how to get through to.” Arrick straightens up, fixing his shirt and smoothing his jacket down
in that infuriating way of regaining control that makes me want to stab him with my fucking shoe. He is
disconnecting from me emotionally. Putting that barrier back up, like he has done a million times in the
past months, putting problem child Sophie on the other side of the fence, so he doesn’t have to deal
with her tantrums.
“Well I’m not keeping you here, there’s the door … Pretty sure you already displayed great skills at
using it the last time you fucked off.” I stand with my hands on my hips, venom on show while my heart
disintegrates and pushes him away. All the while my soul is screaming at him to see through this
bullshit and just help me. I lift my chin defiantly, the angry scowl across my face aching with the effort of
holding it. I won’t show weakness.
Don’t leave me again.
“I’m out.” Arrick lifts his hands and walks across the room, heading straight for the door in a casual
‘couldn’t care less’ stride. I falter, losing my stance and impulsively reach a hand out after him, before
recoiling it back fast and snapping it to my side. Swallowing down hard to kill the words that were fast
behind it; that whiny fucking kid who was about to beg her lifeline to never abandon her.
I don’t think so!
He doesn’t look back but just briskly walks off, tall and straight, with a shake of his head.
My angry glare dissolves as he disappears out of my life once more. Back to square one, and the angry
way he has been every time he’s come to pick me up from nightclubs and bars the last few months. I
have pretty much severed what we salvaged last night, and standing here, right now, I’m suddenly
engulfed with numbness. A tear rolls down my face, but I brush it away harshly, the scowl coming back
to keep my pain at bay, filling my body with stubborn rage to stamp down on the heartbreak brimming
down low.
“I don’t need you!” I whisper bitingly, scowling, hating how the tears fight through despite my grip to not
let them. I swallow hard and will them away, trying to ignore that overwhelming black hole that’s
plagued me for months as it engulfs me in the worst kind of way. This time it isn’t just an empty
gnawing force that drags me down, it is an all-consuming dread that threatens to devour me
completely.
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