I’m walking home from Emma’s when my phone starts ringing in my pocket. Pulling it out and seeing Arrick’s name, I let it ring and just slide it back in place. His calls have been getting more frequent, with repeated texts to get me to answer him all day. Trying my hardest to ignore him; I can’t face talking to him right now. I know he will only repeat the same things he said in my bedroom, and I really cannot face it.
My heart is in no way ready for another rejection from him, and I’ve been trying everything I can to keep him out of my head. I breathe a sigh of relief when it stops ringing, knowing he won’t leave a voicemail because he has a weird aversion to those, and I’m hoping he doesn’t send another text. It’s obvious he’s finding cutting ties hard, since he’s been my best friend for years, and this is completely new for us. Even in the past two years when he went to the city, we still had contact if we w
I can’t stop running my fingers through my hair as I sit across from Camilla in the bistro café we have come to for a coffee. Lifting the deep black strands of hair and twirling them nervously. I have no idea what my Mom or Leila is going to say about this drastic change, but the reflection in the hair salon showed me a completely transformed woman. I look and feel, for the first time ever, that I actually look my age and the amount of well-dressed men turning our way in passing has not just been for Camilla.Gone are the long blonde strands and round baby face, with pale stormy blue eyes, and in its place, a more angled, sleek facial shape. Framed with dark hair that seems to make my eyes stand out crazily, as though the blue is somehow more intense and less washed out. I wasn’t able to stop staring at the stranger in the mirror when she showed me the new look. I don’t look like that stroppy child anymore; I look like some vampy woman in much need of
Pulling my cell from my bag stubbornly, intent on ending this if it kills me, I swipe to my block list, find his name and press unblock. I at once follow it with ‘call’ before I lose my nerve or change my mind. I sit back, heart pounding through my chest and pulse rate erratic, but I must stop this once and for all.He answers after two short rings, and I have to control the stab of pain that his voice gives me.“Sophie?” He sounds shocked, yet emotional.I pull myself together and sit up straighter. Taking a long deep breath to steady my inner chaos and center myself so I sound calm and mature. My stomach twists and my hands shake.“You need to stop calling me.” I state forcefully, trying to keep all
This bar is upper-class and elegant, not like the clubs I frequented in the city and Camilla had been extremely strict about which outfit I put on for our evening. I’m in a fitted cocktail dress, black with subtle beading, hair straightened and sleek, and killer black stilettos to finish it all off. I look more like a girl in her mid-twenties than the baby faced one from this morning and the whole outfit makes me seem taller and somehow womanlier. I feel more in control, less roadkill, and this new confidence from my hair and clothes is helping me relax.Camilla is already working the room with champagne in hand and dragging me along behind her like a pet puppy. I am completely out of my depth in this scene, despite having a family that frequents these kinds of places a lot. I have often been too young to go anywhere like this, or chosen not to, and I’m doing my utmost to act li
I throw up in the bushes to the side of the garden, holding my head as I sway around, shoes in hand and bag dangling down at ankle level. I feel like hell, tired and recounting- how many drinks I had and again gawp in disbelief that I can feel this way on a minimal amount. It hasn’t been that long since I stopped being a seasoned drinker, so there is no way my tolerance has waned this badly. I only drunk three, maybe four glasses at most, yet I am in the state of having had ten or more. Everything is spinning weirdly, and it doesn’t feel like normal drunk at all. Normal drunk doesn’t give me this dry throat and painful ache in my stomach that has made me throw up twice.I stagger up to my front door on unsteady legs; the sound of the departing cab still echoing in the distance and alerting me to the fact it’s early in the morning, around four am. or more. I have no idea what my mom will say. I’m completely disappointed in myself. And to make it w
“You think I have an alcohol problem? You’re talking about rehab?” I lift my palms in complete disbelief. “Dad? Mom?” I turn imploringly. “I didn’t drink for like over three weeks after I came here, almost four! An alcoholic wouldn’t go more than four hours. I fucked up once, and you want to condemn me to a fucking rehab center. What the hell is wrong with you?” My temper chooses to dominate over wounded pride and pain.Miss. Predictable!“I think it’s more than booze, Sophie. I don’t know what else you kids are taking nowadays, but saying you were spiked.... Did you take drugs?” He is deadly serious, and it rips a hole right through my heart. Betrayal at its worst.“Drugs? Are you fucking kidding me? You know how I feel about drugs, Dad! Why are you even saying this to me? How can you even think that of me?.... Have you even looked at me the last few weeks, seen how dif
I sit at the bus station waiting for the coach to the city anxiously and watch the huge clock over the ticket box tick slowly by. I’ve been watching the oncoming arrivals like a hawk for any sign of my family, or Arrick’s. I have no doubt that once they realize I’m gone they’ll check the bus terminals for me, and I can’t face any of them. I’ve mulled over every scenario; running to Jake to talk sense into my parents, running to Leila, but it all comes down to one very unavoidable fact. When my dad gets something in his head that he thinks is for the best, then no one, and I mean no one, can stand in his way. The fact he thinks I’m some kind of drug-addicted alcoholic in need of saving, and the only way is to condemn me to dry out, means he’ll make sure it happens no matter what anyone else says to him. No way in hell I’m going through that kind of insanity.
It has the same rich kid décor as most of my ex friend’s places, and the upside is the closeness to the nightlife and the bustling stores. Even though I told myself I wouldn’t be like before, I still want to be somewhere that gives me a choice, near the buzz of New York’s constant energy should I feel like going out sometime. “Who owns this place, anyway?” I nosey at the bedrooms, smiling when Camilla tells me to pick one. I wander into the most feminine and chuck my backpack on the bed haphazardly, eyeing up its clean décor and the hints that this is a male’s place. It reeks of bachelor pad rather than a couple, or even a woman.“Just some guy I sometimes fuck. He’s very generous with his houses.” She winks at me and wanders in to flop on the bed in front of me, carrying
It’s answered quickly, but by Jake instead of Emma, and my stomach drops.“Sophie? Don’t hang up.” He sounds worried, that familiar deep voice knocks me sideways, not sure what to say, as it’s not who I expected.“I thought I would get Ems, Jake … I.....” …. I hesitate, losing all courage and hoping Jake isn’t about to go commanding godfather on me. He is laid back and fun until he is pissed, and then Jake is a scary ass mofo.“She’s napping, Mimmo. Sophs, honey, just tell us where you are. Your parents are frantic, and we have all been out looking for you.” Jake is being gentle, unusual for the bossy cyclone he normally is, but then Emma has been rubbing off on him for years.“I came to the city, I’m with friends and I’m safe. I just need a little headspace to sort this out on my own. I didn’t mean to scare anyone, Jake. I’m sor
I deserve it, I know I do, probably worse, it’s not even that painful but as I stare at her again, I can’t hide how much it actually wounded my heart. Sophie has lashed out at me before, sure, in crazy ways, frenzy fueled attacks when lost in her pain or triggered with her PTSD, but she’s never slapped me in the face for anything. This was a direct ‘how fucking dare you’ kind of assault that speaks volumes to the depths of the carnage I’ve caused on her soul.“You lost me. You don’t get to do that anymore.” She wails at me, pulling my hands and arms from her body and shoves me back with as much force as she can muster. Prickly, seething, hating me with utter crushing heartbreak. She’s breathing as heavily as I am although her pain and hysteria seem to be calming mine and I know I need to stay patient and cool if I’m going to bring her down from fierce.I know how to deal with her at her worst, I can hand
Arrick’s POV~ Leila’s party ~Leila’s party is losing its sparkle for me. Too drunk, too miserable at having to see Sophs swanning around with golden boy Christian all night and I am done with being here. I’ve said my goodbyes to my brother and I’m leaving before I do something stupid I’m going to totally regret concerning ‘boyfriend’ and drag Sophs into a dark corner to kiss the shit out of her if I stay here. Seeing her looking this beautiful, this happy with someone else is killing me.I spy Sophs, Leila, and Daniel huddled together at the front door as I head that way, a little too late due to not watching where I was going and swerve at the last second before she spots me. My heart lurching at running into her again when I’m already a complete emotional wreck. Hating that even still, my initial reaction to seeing her is a swift kick in the gut. Almost keeling sideways because I am way too
Arrick’s POV~ Seeing Sophie again. (Restaurant) ~I push the money in the driver’s hand as I follow Charlie and Tom out of the cab onto the sidewalk. I’m still tired from my three hours in the training ring and starving, it’s my turn to pay for lunch and I got to pick the venue. This place is new and no chance of Natasha hitting it with her colleagues on her lunch break either. I’ve been trying to put distance between us since the breakup, trying to stay out of her way and I hate that she has a knack for showing up wherever I am. It feels like she just won’t let go, and although I understand her pain at our breakup, it’s also stifling, and I just want her to move on. She won’t do that if she keeps trying to cling to me.“Hurry up, man.” Tom, my sparring partner today is impatient as hell and throwing me a look that is supposed to hurry me up. I straighten on the street and glare him down.
It kills me that I can love her this much and was stupid enough to give that up, to give her up. It’s so black and white in the clear light of my brain defogging and how fucking dumb I am. It was never about what my heart wanted; it was always about what was best for everyone else’s.I don’t want Natasha; I don’t think I ever really did. I want Sophie. If I’m being honest then I’ve always wanted her, needed her. It’s why I could never ignore the two a.m. cries for help. It’s part of my soul to be there for her to fall on, to depend on, to call, and lean on. I grew up for her and became her rock, gave her that safe space to grow and heal and kept the world at bay so it didn’t touch her. I created our bubble together so Sophie could thrive and feel secure, enjoy life without fear and I always told myself it was because I never had a kid sister and she just screamed out for protection. So precious, so angelic and I wanted to
Arrick’s POV~ Breaking up with Natasha ~Sitting on my couch, leaning forward with elbows propped on my knees, I stare at my cell for the millionth time and scroll to Sophie’s name on the list. Last call was twenty-eight days ago... twenty-eight long days of hell, silence, loneliness, and lack of Sophie. Twenty-eight days; the last time I felt anything but the constant absence of her and heavy pit in my stomach, from her disappearing in every single way, and leaving a gaping silent sunless space in my life.I’m missing her like crazy, keeping her last texts messages because it’s all I have left of her to hold on to. I scroll to the very last one, again. It’s a nothing text; I don’t even remember what it was in response too, as it’s not connected to the conversation before it. Just one single text, one that sums her up in so very few words and I stare at it as my chest heaves with that same ingrained weight
Natasha’sPOV~ Life after Sophie ~I watch Arrick push his food around his plate distractedly, eyes on what he’s doing, yet he seems completely detached from the here and now. We’re in a busy restaurant, the food is good, the company not so much; he has barely said two words the whole time we have been here, and he has had about four beers with dinner so far.Arrick never drinks excessively, normally, but I guess this sums up our life of the past three weeks. I’m irritated, upset but I am trying to keep the pleasantries going. I am trying so hard to not let it get to me, to keep a smile on my face, a positive outlook that we can get through this bump in the road of our relationship, but he makes it so hard.I try not to watch him too much as I eat my own food and give up on small talk. His nods and ‘hmm’ responses make me want to throw my wine glass at him, and I am trying to avoid all forms of naggi
Arrick’s POV~ Letting Sophie go ~I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling of my room. I haven’t moved from this spot all night, still fully dressed and unable to even get up and function. The weight in my chest is almost holding me in place, crushing me with the pain, and I can’t stop running last night through my mind endlessly. I’m restless, torn, scrunching my fingers in my hair like I can rip this out of my head. The worst sort of agony that surpasses all.I want to go to her room and see her, but I can’t. I can’t get her out of my head, even though she is only feet away and it’s torturing me.I kissed Sophie... I did more than kiss her, and it felt good, it felt right. It made me feel a thousand things about her that I can’t even begin to analyze, comprehend how to, and all it did was make everything fall apart even more than it was, especially when Natasha showed up and slapped me back to
Arrick’s POV~ After the nightclub ~I sink back on the couch and stare into the semi darkness, cradling my second coffee since we got back here, and try like hell to sober myself up. Head swimming and sinking slowly into the softness of my couch, while trying to get a grip on reality. All I have done since we got home is sit here and try to pull all the shit in my head back together. Try to make sense of the entire night that pretty much went to crap from the moment I downed the first vodka.Drink and I are not friends right now, and if I have any chance of salvaging anything, then I need to sober up fast. Sophie is in the shower, she headed there as soon as we got back, and I sat here waiting for her. I need to talk to her, to figure some of this out and I have no clue what to do. Tonight, taught me a couple of things.One. That drunk, I feel about Sophie the way she feels about me and I want her in every way; physically, menta
Sophie grabs my wrist and tries to yank me to the side, but I cannot tear my eyes from her. I want to tell her I made a mistake, that she is who I want, that she is all I can even think about. I want to wipe away the memory of that asshole on her body, and replace it with memories of kissing her softly, cherishing her always. No one should ever touch her, except me.“Natasha.” She snaps at me and slaps my hands down from her face harshly, bringing my focus back to reality again. I tear my eyes from her and glance up as I see Tasha heading our way, looking completely non-plussed and again the accompanying guilt is like a constant shadow with her, and wracks me to the bone and almost smashes me in the skull. Nothing hits home and drills to my shame brain, like Natasha’s appearance.It makes me feel shit for even thinking what I just did. That same doubt and uncertainty hitting me with equal force, and I sigh hard. So much for fucking choosing.&l