Sophie’s POV

~ Meeting Arrick for the first time ~

I drop the wooden spoon in the bowl as batter splashes back in my face and recoil in disgust, wiping the wet mess out of my eye and huff stroppily. Temper riling slightly because I cannot get the knack of this at all. Sylvana laughs at my expression and tends to my face with a dish towel she has over her shoulder, dabbing at me lightly to clean it off. That gentle motherly smile and soft manner that soothes my temper tantrum and I calm slightly at her ever-tender touch to my fiery moods, warming inside at her easy manner.

“Oh, Sophie, Bambino.... Don’t be so aggressive with stirring. Be gentle with the batter, or you will pound the air out of the mixture.” She smiles softly and picks the spoon back up to hand to me encouragingly, pushing the bowl back against me on the wooden surface with an eyebrow lift that is meant to endear me to try again. I frown at the heavy ceramic beast and make another attempt at this, sighing heavily and setting my frown to one of determination.

I attack with a lot less grace than the first attempt, and in my overzealous efforts, I get it splashed up my Unicorn t-shirt, alarmingly. I sigh and glare at the mess splattered over twinkles, my unicorn compadre.

I love this top. I’m totally gutted that I defiled him with raw cake mix.

“I really don’t think baking is my thing.” I point out defeatedly, mood taking a nosedive and leaving me feeling heavy and listless. This is another cooking lesson with ‘Mamma Carrero’ that I am failing at. I’ve a skill for spectacular failings in the kitchen department and it never ceases to amaze me how much I suck at cooking. We have one every few days; she calls it ‘bonding time’, to quiz me on how I am settling in with the foster parents she has placed me with, and without fail I make something awful.

She has so much patience and no ends to supplies that I make inedible; it’s a wonder she still even tries, although I like that she’s keeping tabs on me, cares enough to check that I am okay in my new life. At least I know this time I have someone to run to if my life turns out as awful as it was with my biological parents. I trust her.

She reminds me of her son, Jake, so much. She has his eyes and his easy manner, and I feel like I can relax with her, the way I relax with Jake and Emma. Knowing that all of them have the same genuine goal, to keep me safe, to look after me and I really appreciate it. Blessed to be given this new chance in life.

Sylvana found me a home with people who live close by and so far, so good. They seem to like me, they even let me put a lock on my door, so I feel safe around them. They are pretty awesome people, if not a little too caring. I guess in time I can maybe relax around them and stop questioning if this is all real all the time. I have siblings for the first time in my life and even though they all seem nice, I’m just not ready to bond with any of them yet. I mean this could be temporary, it’s just a foster home after all. I don’t want to get my hopes up yet and start to care about people that might not stay in my life for long. I like Sylvana though, she doesn’t make me feel like I’m anything different. Anything broken.

She doesn’t bring up the stuff I don’t want to talk about, even though I know it’s part of her job. I mean, the support worker I see weekly is from her own charity... he told me she is the reason I got homed so fast. It’s almost unheard of for a fourteen-year-old runaway to find a family like the Huntsbergers so easily, especially coming from poverty. I guess I owe all this to her, and Jake, and Emma. I owe them everything. Although I know it probably won’t last. I’m a lot to handle at times and know sometimes when something is too good to be true, then it is, so, I aim to enjoy it while I can. Build up my strength in case I need to run or go back to the streets again and fend for myself.

I look at Sylvana and feel so much love for her. I just wish I knew how to express it all a little better than I do as it’s not particularly easy for me to show emotion. It’s easier with Emma... she gets me, she doesn’t expect me to say anything. She just knows. Sylvana is a completely different kind of person and even though she works with kids like me, I don’t think she has ever been through what we have.

“Mamma. Where are you? I’m home.” A male voice that sounds so much like Jake, echoes down the hall and I falter, my mixing poised as I freeze. I am not good with strangers, yet this one sounds like Jake, so I’m not sure if it’s him or not. There’s something different in the voice though, only slightly, and my heart beats faster as Sylvana walks to the kitchen door, patting the flour from her dress as she greets the voice.

I drop my eyes to the bowl and continue with the mess I’m making, gripping the spoon tight and hoping whoever it is, doesn’t stay long. Heart rate elevating, and breathing getting a little shallower as nerves crash through me at the sudden intrusion on our time. Still not good at coping with my anxiety, but I’m learning to hide it and get on top of it more. I breathe slowly to combat the suffocating feeling in my chest and focus on slow stirs to concentrate.

“Ahhh, il mio, bambino.” Sylvana walks forward into a tall frame, concealed behind her body, who embraces her tightly. I can see sandy hair over her head and wide shoulders over her own frame, strong arms encircling her as they hug. It’s definitely not Jake; the hair color alone is all wrong, although he is around the same height.

“Hey, mamma, mi sei mancato.” The male voice is low and husky, that same Jake depth of tone and I wonder if this is the elusive brother I have been told about. Sylvana talks about Arrick a lot, but he’s always away at college or travelling; he does it a lot apparently. This is the first time he’s been here while I have, it would make sense, seeing as he’s clearly bilingual and called her mom.

I pause and hold my breath. Waiting. I know she’ll introduce him, and I feel the panic start to rise in my throat. Hands going cold and body icing with apprehension at meeting a new male, a new stranger. They both move as she turns to me and I duck my eyes back to what I’m doing, overcome with shyness and unable to look up as my gut twists in my body. Trying to hold myself in check so I don’t make an idiot of myself. I have the urge to check my hair is still tied up, neat in my ponytail, out of the way from nervous hands and twitchy habits.

“Arry, this is Sophabelle, our newest Huntsberger addition.” Sylvana’s voice pulls me up, almost like hypnotic magic, clever with her spells of persuasion and I find myself connecting to a pair of pretty hazel brown eyes, studying me coolly in a calm and handsome face. Surprised immediately that they are not green, like Jake’s, and Sylvana’s, yet somehow these are nicer, warmer, and deeper. Shaking myself at the trance he almost causes me, forgetting myself for a second and feeling utterly stupid that a boy’s eyes halted me mid breath.

Heat hits my cheeks as I blush and glance away; his gaze is a little too intense for my liking and instantly feel defensive as my body bristles up in alarm. I barely took in anything but his eyes and can still feel them on me. Studying me.

“Hey, how you doing?” He speaks to me and I curse that I have to do this. I’m used to the little circle of people who have surrounded me for the past weeks, and I don’t need anyone new to be around me right now. Strangers mean danger. Especially ones who have a weird ability to render me still with just a look; it’s unnerving as hell and my heart doing a rhumba is not exactly welcoming.

My hands start shaking like crazy and I have to grip the bowl and spoon to hide it. I flicker up and take him in slowly, warily as if he is of no real interest to me. The broad strong shape of a teen, maybe late teens. He isn’t ugly, he’s kind of cute; okay maybe more than cute, except he has Giovanni’s nose, which is a shame because it’s a bit odd at the bridge. I like his hair... it’s spiky and kind of nice in color, like sand almost, although variations of dry and wet, and a really nice cut that showcases a strong neck and squarish jawline. He seems to spend time styling it too, which I guess I like.

I think men who care about how they look is an attractive thing, seeing as boys and men I knew never did. He has nice taste in clothes anyway; jeans, sneakers and a tight grey t-shirt with some fighting club or something on the front, which highlights the fact he works out. Casual, good looking and relaxed; a dangerous combo for most young girls but not me though. I have no desire to know this Romeo and I can tell it is exactly what he is. He looks a little bit like his brother, yet not, and I decide I don’t like him. He is too good looking to be a nice guy and poses nothing but a threat to me.

“Hi.” I respond flatly and look back down at what I’m doing. Not interested. He looks too cocky, too chatty, too smiley. He will be like every other guy on the planet who has good genes and knows he’s hot. Boring and self-absorbed.

“You’re a chatty one, aren’t you?” he chuckles, and it makes me squirm because it’s kind of nice in a completely awful way, deep, husky, Jake-like, and I glare at him for insulting me.

Ughhh.

I think he might actually be an asshole now that I think of it. I mean who uses lines like ‘How you doing?’ anyway. Pretty sure it’s a lame veiled attempt at saying ‘want a date?’. Which I don’t. He is way too old for me, I mean, I’m not even fifteen yet and he looks.... well not fifteen. Maybe eighteen. I don’t know. He has a young look, but then again, there’s something older in his eyes.

“Shhh, leave her be. Sophie is fine once she warms to you, stop teasing her.” Sylvana scolds him and moves off towards the sink to fill the coffee pot for her newest arrival, which means he is staying. Everyone in these families seems to reach for coffee pots at every opportunity, and it’s plain weird. I hate the smell of the stuff, it makes me think of things I really don’t want to, and I bite down sudden nausea that hits me in the gut with both the realization that Romeo is staying, and the memories coffee incites.

I jump in fright when he appears at the table in front of me, ripping my head back to the present, reaching in to dip his hand in what I’m mixing, and I drop the bowl and spoon and jump back as though he’s scolded me. Even though he didn’t touch me, my heart lurches to my mouth in knee jerk fear. He doesn’t react, hand still in the bowl, eyes come to me and his face straightens a little. A slight frown as he slowly draws away and smiles softly, movements extremely controlled like he senses he shouldn’t have done that.

It does nothing to calm me though and I’m tense all over as I watch him, warily. Body poised to run if he tries to get any closer. My heart racing as embarrassment flows over me, and I look away, moving back to grab the spoon at speed and die of shame that I reacted so noticeably. I can’t help it. I hate people coming too close, especially men and that’s what he is, even though he’s young. He’s a threat. He’s male and he’s obviously a guy who can pull girls easily with a smile and a wink. Just not me, never me. I inhale deeply and swallow down hard, regaining outward control while my insides are a shuddering mess and try to return to that silent moody aura, I had a second ago.

“Tastes good... you must have the magic touch.” He says it softly, but I notice he’s moved back to give me room and I relax a tiny smidgen that he has given me my breathing space back. I don’t answer, but stare at the bowl and mix some more, unsure how else to respond. He has me flighty and nervous, my toes even trembling with a cold wave of fear coursing through my body.

“She has if she only had a softer touch and more patience.” Sylvana laughs and comes to remove the bowl from me swiftly, appearing by my side for a second as she hands me another instead that is filled with a new mixture and a fresh spoon. “You can massacre this one if you like.” She giggles beautifully, warming my ice a little and reminding me that her presence means safety, no matter who else is here. She would never let anything happen to me.

I glance his way as she moves and catch him looking at me, sort of up and down, as though he’s trying to suss me out and I automatically glare at him defensively, hating his probing. If he’s looking for an easy target, then he will meet his match. I’m not some defenseless little kid who would let some teen Romeo have a go. I will burn his pretty face off or stab him with this wooden spoon if I have to. I have no interest in boys or men or those that are in-between, like him.

He smiles at me and I glare harder, warning him off. No point leading these types on and giving him the wrong idea about what he will get from me. I already met his type at school, the first week here and they soon learned that Sophie bites, hard. He picks up an apple from the fruit bowl and leans against the kitchen counter, getting comfy as his mom makes fresh coffee and dollops my batter into cake pans at the same time. His eyes leave me when he catches my eye, and wanders around the room as he takes a bite and crunches noisily.

Who even eats that loud? Weirdo.

“You redecorated?” He says to her and I watch that profile for a second.

Okay, he’s not ugly in anyway, even with a weird nose... he’s actually kind of cute, for a guy, but he’s a jackass so what does it matter?

I go back to mixing aggressively and let out a little of my prickliness on the new mixture, sloshing some over the bowl clumsily. I curse under my breath that I’m having real difficulty keeping the contents in the damn bowl. His presence is making me antsy and I want him to leave, so we can go back to our Sylvana and Sophie time. I’m starting to depend on these visits as part of my routine and he is ruining my calm in all kinds of ways.

“Nope... Just changed a few accessories.” Sylvana smiles back at him, then notices my mess, and hands him a wet washcloth with a nod towards me. Without hesitation, he puts down his apple and leans forward to start cleaning around the bowl I have on the table, straining as though he is trying to stay back, which is odd. As his arm gets near mine, I step back again, lifting the bowl to make it look like I am giving him space to clean, even though I am really making sure he gets no closer. I catch the flicker of his eyes on me, yet he says nothing, just a serious glance that makes my heartbeat faster and then looks away. He wipes the surface and hands it back to her as I put the bowl back down and only step forward when he moves away fully. Less chaotic on my innards that time and I am a lot less antsy.

The phone starts ringing and Sylvana takes it from the wall, utters something in Italian then gestures two minutes to me and leaves the room. Taking the phone with her as she chats in fluent Italian and leaves us to it, oblivious as to why this is not good at all.

Leaves me with him! Alone and undefended.

My breathing gets instantly heavier as anxiety starts to build up quickly and irrationally, brain freezing so that any sense to this will not break through. She never just leaves me with strangers, this is literally unheard of, ever. Normally Sylvana is very conscious of leaving me with people I don’t know. She knows I don’t like it and I don’t care if it’s her son. I don’t know or trust him.

I drop the spoon and start looking around for an escape route almost impulsively, uncomfortable about being alone with him and unable to stop the gripping panic that is crippling my lungs. I need to get out of the corner I am hemmed in because it’s making me claustrophobic and triggering my need to run.

“Huntsbergers, huh? So, you’re Leeloo’s new sister?” His voice catches me mid panic and draws me back to him, weirdly cool and the same insane ability as his mother to draw me back. I just stare at him, wondering why he is even trying to talk to me at all.

Did I not make it blatantly clear that I’m not interested? God, he’s as relentless as the boys at school, thick as one of them too?

The reason I almost got expelled on the first day; for punching one square in the nose for not leaving me alone, and I am not against taking on this six-foot stranger.

I shrug, as way of an answer and decide I maybe want to go home now. The last thing I need is Sylvana getting mad because I punched her son in the face or lashed out at him violently. I’m only starting to feel at home here and I don’t want to cause problems with the woman I depend on for my sanity. I make a move around the table to get past him, then jump when he shifts to pick up his apple that he laid down, not seeing me until the last moment. In my panic to get back and out of his way, I back into the furniture and knock the table with my hip by accident, sending it rolling off before he grabs at it. Freaking stupidly about being in his direct space and almost able to breathe in how he smells, his aftershave flowing over me warmly and I wrinkle my nose at the pleasant assault.

We both make a grab for the apple impulsively and he gets way too close, almost on top of me as we make a play for the shiny red roly poly object on the floor and I recoil at the speed of light. Only somehow backing into the table again, dumbly, instead of away. He’s in my face as he straightens up and I flinch, lifting my hands defensively in that split second, head caught in fear and flashback and almost choking on my sudden inhale as the full force of how he smells hits me harder.

He smells good, which is the weirdest thing to run through my head while my chest is on fire and my brain is crashing around in headless terror. He stops, catches sight of my posture, and lifts his hands away immediately, moving back deliberately, eyes on mine steadily as I heave in breaths and try to stop myself from suffocating with the confusion of feelings coursing through me.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to get so close. I’m not going to touch you.” He seems a little taken aback by the way I’m poised; apologetic and maybe sincere, nothing in his face that hints of deviousness. I try to uncoil my muscles to look more natural as tears bite my eyes, knowing how stupid I must look and try to slide away from him and give myself much needed room. Mortified that I’m acting this way with Jake’s brother, but this is how I am with every guy. Jake just never gets close enough to see if it’s the same with him and I am trying so hard to regulate my breathing and be normal.

“I need to go home.” It comes out so pitifully, voice shaking and suddenly the thought of my safe lockable space is screaming for me across the street. My fight or flight instinct has always been strong and right now it is on running for the hills.

“I’ll go...You stay. You obviously were in the middle of something with my mom.” He half smiles, looking crazily guilty and unsure, his expression softening warmly to resemble Sylvana. I stop in surprise, looking at him dumbfoundedly, panic fading as he slowly backs away from me, making a show of keeping his hands up, like I have a gun or something equally stupid and it makes me forget myself for a moment. Good old mouth comes out all by herself.

“Put your hands down...that’s lame.” I often get verbal diarrhea at some odd times, and this strange guy, acting weird, seems to be a trigger. He looks at his hands then breaks into a smile that could potentially have severe panty melting ability if I was any other girl and drops them by his sides.

“I guess it is. You just looked like for a second you might want to take a low blow at my family jewels.” He keeps moving away, and still stares at me steadily, that smile brings out some surprising dimples that soften his whole face and I relax a tiny little bit more with the familiarness. He has his mom’s dimples, they sort of give him a softer, more caring look and I guess it might not hurt that on him they look sort of maybe a little bit handsome.

“I really will go. Just need to grab a can of coke from the refrigerator behind you... you know, or you could? So, I stay over here.” He raises his brows at me, and it knocks me off guard, that he realizes I don’t want him near me. He’s perceptive anyway and I guess incredibly cute when he does that with his face, the soft smile, and dimples thing. It’s like he can change his whole face with just a mannerism. It’s kind of freaky; some sort of sorcery obviously invented to weaken girls, no doubt. I bet he practices in a mirror and has it down to an art form.

I hesitate and glance behind me at the huge steel refrigerator and then back at him, realizing I would rather do it than have him come over here again. Guilt flooding me, that he is really trying not to be as much of a douche as I am giving him credit for.

“You don’t need to go, it’s your mom’s house. I can just come back another time.” I move back and get him the soda anyway. I pull out a cold one, after feeling for the coolest and then walk a little closer and slide it across the table, so he won’t have to take it from me. I don’t want him to touch me, even if he is not so bad after all.

“I’m home for a week, it’s cool. I can get out of your way and leave you to bore yourself to tears with my mom. Just leave me some cake as thanks before you go.” He waits until I am back in my safe space before he moves to pick up the can and I mellow towards him even more. He really does seem to be trying to show me he isn’t a threat and I wonder how much he knows about me. He doesn’t act like he knows anything at all, and I don’t know if Sylvana would have told him. I get the feeling he maybe just senses something, and I have to admit, it makes me a little unsure. Outside of the very few who have spoken to me about my past, I do not like people knowing.

“You don’t want to eat the cakes I make...... I kill everything I touch. I am not a good cook.” I blink at him hopelessly, unsure why I’m even encouraging conversation at all. I should let him leave. I want him to leave.

“I have a stomach made of steel; if I can handle my roommate’s attempts, then pretty sure yours won’t kill me. Besides, I kinda want to see how bad it can be. I’m intrigued now that you said you kill everything you touch.” He smiles at me and this time I bristle a little defensively. It’s a hot smile and I wonder if it’s his practiced pick me up grin, he uses on girls he’s being cute with. I narrow my eyes and stare at him for a second, eyeing him up with scrutiny and try to decipher if he’s being fun or flirty. “You really don’t trust me, do you?” He smiles again, the half-smile, the one I liked with the dimples, but I frown harder, trying to pick him apart and decide if he can be trusted or not. He’s too smooth, too self-assured and I just do not know.

“I don’t know you... I don’t trust anyone I don’t know.” I keep studying him, aware that I am relaxing a little in his presence despite myself and my heart is no longer trying to escape through my ribcage. I think the fact he’s keeping his distance and maintains a cool calmness and steady eye contact when he talks; it’s helping. There’s something sort of steady about him. Like he’s so level, no surprises or sudden movements and he has a sort of cool tone when he talks. I can’t explain it, he brings a stillness to the room that confuses me and breaks down my defenses.

I think it’s maybe that he seems smarter than the average guy, able to read people, and reacts to give them what they need to relax. Or maybe it’s something I should be wary of, maybe he’s devious and clever and really is just angling for something he will never get from me.

“Clever girl... It’s not a bad way to be. Earning trust happens to be something I’m good at.” He drops the smile and instead regards me intensely, our eyes meeting and this time I don’t look away. We stare at one another for a second, silently; me trying so hard to figure him out, gauge what his intentions are, and I have no clue what he is looking for in me. It’s not awkward, just a fleeting moment of trying to suss one another out and those hazel brown eyes begin to show flecks of green in the depths as he does so. I wonder if it’s a tell; eyes changing color when his moods do.

“Doubt I’ll be around long enough for that to ever happen.” I answer flatly. Warning him off, annoyed that he thinks he can ever earn my trust so very easily. Very few have it.

Emma... she’s probably the only one who has all of it.

No one else has full disclosure yet, not sure they ever will.

“I should make the most of a new face in the street then... You could always come hang out with my friends and me, go for pizza or whatever?” His question knocks me for six and I blanch at him, confused that someone like him would ask a kid to go with his friends to eat. I’m not sure why he even would.

“Yeah. I don’t think so, you’re too old. I don’t like boys.” I answer snottily, furrowing my brows and make a clear show of indifferent disinterest. He needs to be told straight off that I have zero intention of getting cozy with him. Looking back down at the table and going back to stirring my bowl, forgetting all mention of leaving now I feel calmer and more assured he will stay on his side of the room.

“I’m not that old. You have to be what? Sixteen? I mean you look around that age, maybe seventeen. I’m not asking for date, I just mean to hang with people you might make friends with, you know with being new here.” He is back to watching me and I feel the eyes burning into my face, shocked that he miscalculated my age by so much. I always thought I looked like a baby-faced child with a boyish body.

“I’m fourteen, and I don’t need more friends. I met some kids at school that are okay. I prefer to just do things by myself.” I stare at what I’m doing and sigh heavily, trying to zone him out and not give him more attention than necessary, irritated and I don’t even know why. I realize that my panic attack is gone, it’s fizzled out and so has the fear, instead there’s an air of unease that’s not even that overwhelming. I glance up at him again and no longer feel like I should bolt out of his presence.

I guess maybe he’s more like Jake than I realized, and maybe that’s all it is. He has that same vibe of good guy and an air of calm that sort of says ‘I won’t cross a line’. Right now, he looks shocked, sort of gawping at me in disbelief and I guess he really did think I was older. I wonder idly where Sylvana is and realize I can’t even hear her out in the hall anymore.

“Wow, really? Shit. You definitely look older. Look I’m not angling for anything... I’m not like that. Even if you were sixteen, or whatever. I really did mean just pizza, just hanging out.” He moves forward towards the table carelessly and I freeze instinctively, heart somersaulting once more and instantly reacting defensively.

Nope, not relaxed with him, just relaxed at the space he was giving me. I catch him from the corner of my eye, slowly very slowly, moving back to his previous position and something inside of me thaws again almost as quickly. I have to curb the urge to smile and not look up at him. Aware that he caught my tension, even if it was subtle and is trying to make amends.

He saw me react and he counteracted. He’s not so dumb after all; maybe he isn’t a threat and really is just a nice guy with a really pretty face and a very hot body. Not that I looked much.

“I don’t like strangers, or crowds, or pizza.” I answer abruptly... one little white lie won’t kill me, and I have to maintain hostility even if he has me thawing. I mean I really love pizza, but all the rest is true.

“I get the feeling that whatever I suggest will get a rebuff, and now I’m starting to sound like a desperate weirdo trying to make a date. Look, offers always there if you get bored. When I’m home.... which is every month.... then whatever. We’re neighbors, and you’re now one of my closest friend’s sisters. Leila and I go way back. I’m just being friendly.” He leans back against the counter behind him in his relaxed guy pose, and tries for another half-smile, but I narrow my gaze once more. Not sure how to take him at all, confused by how he makes me react and feel. He’s very smooth. He definitely has that Jake Carrero confidence and charm, and I’m not sure it’s as genuine. I don’t know him at all.

“I don’t need friendly.” I point out seriously, eyes on him and the way he’s stood. All hard angles of lounging male and a little too much muscle on show in semi fitted clothes. It does weird things to my stomach that are not wholly bad, but they do not feel all that great either. It feels like crazy little insects are running around and having themselves a party.

“Everyone could use friends, even just one.” He watches me with that infuriating smile, that’s starting to lose its sparkle and I’m starting to think it’s his come-on smile, to win me around. His Romeo battle weapon.

“I don’t need any, not even one.” I raise my brows at him and drop the wooden spoon into the batter once more, giving up on the attempts at doing whatever she wanted me to do with it. Trying to be appear nonchalant instead of the prickly he has me all over.

“I’m not just any ‘one’.” He grins this time and despite myself I smirk a little too. Cocky ass who clearly rates himself a little high in importance.

“You’re lame. I think you maybe just need to go find a girl who may actually be interested. This one isn’t.” I pick up the spoon again, and lick it, grimacing at how disgusting cake batter is raw and wonder why the hell he even liked it. There is no way that anyone with functioning taste buds thought this was good. It’s like creamy vomit and I curb the urge to gag. Pretty sure my face is a full-on cringe.

I’m overly aware of the fact I’ve fully relaxed once again though; some weird sorcery he must have learned from his mom for sure. I feel nothing anymore, except mild interest in this weird boy with his malfunctioning sense of taste and those painfully alluring eyes.

“I’m not someone who gives up. I will ask you every time I see you...You will cave one of these times.” He shifts against the unit and I gaze him warily, settling when he gets comfy and stays put. I look down at the mess of my beloved t-shirt and wonder if cake batter stains. I’m not domestic, and I know nothing about laundry.

“Find me the elusive last unicorn and I’ll think about it.” I sigh, smirking to myself for my vague genius, as my favorite movie comes to mind with eyes on my top, knowing he will have no clue to what I am even on about. I don’t even know why I am tolerating this conversation. I have zero interest in ever talking to him again, or ever going anywhere with him or his friends. I pull my eyes back up at him, catching that infuriatingly cute half smile with those dimples that are starting to get a little too familiar and curb the urge to sigh.

“Is that a challenge?” He smiles wider, a little Hollywood glamour, and I shrug, acting uninterested and really wishing Sylvana would hurry up before this gets any stranger. I don’t know what this is between us. I don’t know how to play the boy - girl game, especially with a much older guy, and even though I no longer feel like running, I am not overly comfy with him.

Weirdly, it’s almost like I psychically summon her, and she wanders in, smiling brightly at both of us as though nothing is amiss at all.

“Sorry about that, mia Bambinos... family like to talk. I hope you were getting acquainted with Arry, my golden child. Such a good boy for his mamma.” She walks past him, tweaking his cheek and air kissing at him lovingly, as he eye rolls, smiles, and stays put. I find myself giggling at it; it just looks so wrong on someone his size and build, and obvious hunky appearance. He smiles wider when he sees me giggling and catches my eye again so that I look away for a second. A moment of butterflies that I push down hard.

“Sophie was turning me down flat. Seems this one isn’t interested in pizza dates.” I catch his eye on me and frown at him. Suspicions clearly confirmed and giggling smile gone. So much for denying it was a date!

“I should think not.” She slaps Arry on the arm in a maternally aggressive reaction, with a loud ‘thwack’ as he blanches at her with complete mock shock. That pretty face utterly bewildered in why she would think this was wrong. It’s almost comical and I guess he is not often on Sylvana’s refusing side.

“What the hell was that for?” He rubs his arm and glares at his mom. I can’t help but grin smugly at him for it.

“Because I know you, she is not on your radar... ever. Leave her alone and … Sophie dear...” She turns to me with a warm smile that draws my attention to her fully, eyes kind yet scarily serious. I nod in question.

“You have my permission to slap him in the man parts, if he ever tries to proposition you again.” She gestures airily towards him, bringing back my smothered smile and I try so hard not to react.

“That’s not what I was doing...Jeeze, give a guy a break. I was trying to be nice. It was in no way a loaded invite.” Arry shrugs, but then starts moving fast as his mother ushers him out by flapping a dishtowel in his direction, slapping at him, and shepherding him out into the hall. He has no choice but to obey as she is crazily competent with the whipping motion, and he clearly knows when to be scared of his Mamma.

I start giggling, seeing the smile on his face and the parting look he gives me that catches my eye. Another weird moment of butterflies that he seems to pull out of me, despite myself.

Okay, so he’s cuter than I thought; maybe I would go as far as saying a little bit gorgeous. Still not interested, still staying the hell away from him. I don’t care if he does have a way of calming me down, it means nothing. He just needs to get within four feet, and it’s all undone anyway. He’s male, he’s the enemy and I will never let one get close enough to ever hurt me.

“Out, out... it’s girl time and you are not invited.” Sylvana is pushing him, bossy and stubborn and Arrick is going, whether he wants to or not. I’m relieved, yet there is also a little weird feeling of disappointment and I scold myself for the stupidity.

“I’m going, besides...I have a challenge to work out.” He throws a wink back at me, typical Jake Casanova Carrero style, as he disappears out the door and I stare out after him, torn between amusement and worry. Unease enveloping me in that moment as his words filter through. I didn’t issue a challenge; I was trying to put him off and I’m not sure I like this at all.

I frown after him, head a chaos of thoughts and feelings and I try to squish down the rising anxiety once more. This is why I don’t want friends... they don’t know when to leave me be. They never know when, or what lines to never cross.

Sylvana reappears moments after I hear the front door shut and smiles warmly at me, beaming and happy. Utterly oblivious to my state of anxiety and wandering thoughts.

“I love my son dearly; he is a good boy really. Just a little bit of a slut, like his brother.... don’t pay any attention to him.” She winks at me fondly and goes back to dealing with the cake tins on the counter. I try and pull my head anywhere that is not on the tall sandy haired, hazel eyed, Romeo.

I watch her for a moment and think about Jake instead.... seeing him with Emma these past weeks, warming at the thought of the two of them. I think Jake’s a reformed slut nowadays, even if he won’t admit it, and possibly looking a lot like a guy who wants more from his PA, which is kind of sweet. I wonder if all the Carrero men are the type to fall hook line and skinner and settle down and have to push that dimple faced demon out of my head again. Stomping it down with a frown and try instead to picture Emma getting her happy ever after, warming a little with the thought that maybe for her, happiness lies within a male Carrero. Maybe not all men are all bad after all.

I spend the whole day with Sylvana; it’s late and dark when I finally walk across to my own home and yawn as I get into the hallway, letting myself in. I can tell by the silence down here that my parents have already headed to bed, and as all my siblings all moved out before I ever moved in, then the house is pretty silent. I drop my jacket on the rack and go to head upstairs quietly. Glad to have the solitary time and not really interact while I am tired.

“Miss. Sophie.” The housekeeper Ivana calls to me from the bottom of the stair and I turn with a smile. It still weirds me out that we have servants, maids or whatever they call them. I mean I am still getting used to this whole grand house and the money factor. It’s a far cry from where I started in life and sometimes, I have to pinch myself that this isn’t a dream. I never knew what it was like to always be warm, safe, and fed, before this home.

“Yes Ivana?” I pause as she comes up to meet me and hands me a gift bag with a silver sparkling design and satin ribbon handles. I look at it with question, completely confused as to why she is giving me a present and blink back at her oddly. “Mr Carrero dropped this by and said to tell you, ‘the challenge was too easy, you’ll need to try harder next time.’ She smiles warmly at me as I blink again, at the bag; a lead weight dropping in my stomach and I stare at it. Unsure what to say or even if I should take this at all. This is all new territory for me.

“Um...Thanks.” I smile goofily, awkwardly, heart rate elevating and I turn and scale the stairs fast as I can, like my ass is on fire. Almost tipping the bag out onto the bed as soon as I get into my room.

Two packages, both wrapped in sparkly paper which matches the outer bag, drop out and I stare at them in complete confusion. Not sure what some strange guy dropping off gifts is meant to mean. I curse myself for encouraging this as it was never my intention. I don’t want anything from him. I don’t want him to think he has a challenge in me or that anything will happen. It won’t! Ever!

I really do consider just putting them back and taking them back across to Sylvana and handing them over, but my curiosity is killing me. I want to see what he has given me, and I really am torn. After a second, the child in me wins out and I rip into the larger, flatter of the two, hurriedly, with abandon and a slight growing excitement.

It’s a DVD of my favorite movie ‘The last Unicorn’. Exactly what I was getting at when I said that to him and there’s a post it note stuck on the front in really neat masculine writing.

The elusive unicorn is in the sea.

I giggle at the fact he probably had to watch this to even know that and look to see if the seal on the case has been broken. Tracing my fingers along the edge to the safety tape. It has. I guess he watched it, or skimmed it anyway, to even know the answer to my question and it hits me as completely hilarious to even imagine someone like him sitting looking through a unicorn movie, to answer a girl he only just met. I shouldn’t be impressed but I am, I mean the fact he even sourced this in only hours. It’s a movie from the eighties and not a mainstream popular film that is easy to come by.

My heart expands a little and I have to admit, he is growing on me a tiny little bit. I pick up the second one with less trepidation and turn it around in my fingers. It’s small and rounder, a little squishier and I rip it open faster than the first. Unable to contain my glee; unicorns have always been a weakness and before this life, no one gave me gifts. Not even on my birthday.

A fluffy plump unicorn sits in the palm of my hand, cute and cuddly, yet small enough to be portable. I can carry this around in my bag, if I felt the inclination I mean, or wanted to even keep this stuff. Which I don’t. Which I shouldn’t because it’s not right. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea and I don’t really think it’s appropriate he gave me these things.

I sigh as I move the bag to put them back inside and realize there’s an envelope too. A small one, like a note card size, tucked inside. I open it impulsively and giggle when I see the doodle of the unicorn on one side, badly drawn and so obviously by him. It’s so awful, it’s actually kind of cute, and I shake my head, sighing with the effort he made. I turn it over and see the neat handwritten scrawl, same as from the post it and tense.

If not pizza, then maybe a milkshake, anytime you might be bored. No strings attached, no crowds, and no promises to be friends. We can sit at complete opposite tables.

Enjoy your unicorns.

Sophabelle. x A

I swallow hard when I read and reread it. Unsure, nervous, and torn. I mean I know he says no strings, but it puts the fear of god into me that he has even gone this far to impress me. All my alarm bells ringing, and I know I need to put an end to whatever this is. I’m no innocent and naive kid who has no clue what goes on in men’s heads. I’m painfully aware of what men expect for a little effort.

It makes me feel sick to my stomach and my skin erupts in goosebumps as fear grips my heart. Life taught me to never be swayed by fast words, empty niceness, and devious men. I won’t let myself get back into a place of fear and darkness by letting one of them think he has a hold on me. I will never let that happen again. I’ll take it all back to his mother in the morning and have her tell him to leave me be.

I don’t need someone like him in my life, trying to sweep me off my feet and lower my guard. Men his age, they all want the same thing and girls are just toys to be picked up and discarded. Even if he was a sweet boy with his mind on something more, he has no clue what my story is and how impossible that would be.

Whatever his intentions, nothing is going to happen. I won’t let him come to mean anything to me, he never will, so there’s no point in him trying. We will never be anything more than just distant neighbors who pass each other by in life, with no deeper meaning.