Arrick’s POV

~ Sophie calls Arrick ~

“I’m fucking doing it!” I snap, throwing down my phone and pull the papers over to me to sign with a tad more aggression than is warranted. Almost stabbing my pen in the damn contract as I dot the I in my name and toss the pen down when I’m done, aware of the eyes on me around the dark wood table of the conference room, but I don’t give a shit. I feel shitty and pissed off and this is the last thing I want to be doing right now.

Some crappy minor brief on one of our low tier businesses who want funds for a re-brand; spending all day stuck at Carrero tower at my father’s request when I want to be smashing a boxing bag into next week to expel this feeling. I don’t actually care if they fold right now, they make less than a hundred grand a quarter anyway and it’s barely worth the time I have spent here today.

“You are not too old to get a spanking.” My dad warns across the walnut conference table, a hint of humor in his cool look and I glare at him equally coolly. Like father like son. We have a good relationship and he has never spanked me in my life, but I wouldn’t put it past him today. He’s growing tired of my attitude lately; my moods of the last few days have had more than a passing glare from him. I know I’m acting like an asshole but it’s hard to be chipper when your life is falling to shit and just fucking sucks on every fucking bullshit level.

“What’s with you?” Adam, the current head of our legal department throws me a friendly smile and I t give him the finger in response. Luckily, we are friends beyond work, and he takes it with a grin and a shake of the head, knowing fine well I have been having personal problems. My father tuts and again throws me the warning glare, this time lacking humor; he doesn’t do overly friendly with the staff, ever. Something his sons clearly never got the memo on, seeing as Adam and I have went on many a night out, and Jake married his PA.

Over familiar is something we are good at, so he can go blame our mother, we get it from her.

“Sophs and he had a lover’s tiff, and she’s in lock down while Arry is in the chill zone. Or is that the friend zone? I get confused which.” Jake laughs, to my left, and I swear I have the urge to throat punch him in this moment. Sitting in his chair like a laid-back dick with a giant grin. Cocky fucker.

My personal business isn’t exactly what I want a table of six men to be discussing right now, even if he just hit the nail on the head. Only three of the men sitting here are even close enough to know who Sophie is, the other two are just suits for the legal brief and look confused as shit. I hate people talking about my business. Especially not about her.

Sophie won’t even take my calls, no matter how many times I try. Texts, messages, nothing. She has closed me out and it’s been days since I got any sort of response from her. It’s driving me crazy, not knowing how she is, how she feels, what’s going on with us. I’ve felt constantly uptight, sick with worry over how she is and in an eternally shitty mood over the fact we have never gone days without talking.

We have never closed down on each other or just ended shit. Pissed at her, yet at the same time, I’m desperate to talk to her. To hear that gentle sweet voice that makes my day better and know that we can get through this. I miss her. Worse than bad.

“Fuck off.” I glare at my idiot brother and dodge the mock slap he throws at my head. So not in the mood for this bullshit today, or any day this past couple of weeks. Sometimes he is a pain in the ass to have as a brother, often forgetting he is meant to be the older, more mature one. When it comes to him laughing over my genuine trauma then, I currently think he is a prize dick.

“What did you do?” My father’s eyes are on me, annoyed that I haven’t spoken to him about this most likely. He is someone I sometimes confide in, but not about her. He’s too close to Sophie, he sees her as a daughter and this would be awkward to talk about, not to mention probably a rage trigger for him. He never sees Sophie doing any wrong, and this would all come back to being my fault somehow.

I mean, she told me she is in love with me. Not a sibling love or a best friend love anymore... sex, babies, marriage and love, love. The real deal. No clue what to even do with that and no amount of mulling it over has shifted my confusion about how I actually feel. Sophie is an all or nothing kind of thing. I couldn’t just date her and see how it went. Couldn’t just blindly feel through it and figure it out as I went. There is a huge pile of overwhelming things stacked up against it before I even analyze where my feelings actually stand. And then, what about my girlfriend? Whom I was too chicken shit to tell, and sort of broke up with instead.

“Why is this something I did?” I bristle defensively, even though it is. I told her I didn’t feel that way and can’t seem to stop obsessing over it, regardless. My heads so far up my ass, I literally haven’t slept in days. Right now, even eating is a chore. I broke up with said girlfriend, because I literally have not been able to touch her since I kissed my best friend in a moment of craziness. It felt like I was cheating on Sophie, the second I saw Natasha, even though it’s stupidly absurd, and so back to front. I cheated on Natasha, by kissing Sophie, but my brain won’t compute that, and haven’t even had the balls to tell her yet. I am so fucked in this.

“It’s always the men’s fault. Have I taught you nothing?” My father smiles softly and Jake nods with a huge patronizing grin. I want to bury my head in my hands and groan until they all go away and stop looking at me. I don’t do well under family scrutiny when my head is already bursting with all it’s trying to contain, and my moods have taken a dive off a cliff for days on end.

“Can we not do this right now?” I glance around the table, drawing my so-called family to the fact we are in company, despite them not seeming to give an utter shit about the fact. Jake shrugs and yawns, covering his mouth to stifle it and slouches back in his chair. Seemingly not caring that staff surrounds us.

“Think we’re done for the day... should wrap this up.” He shrugs. No more concerned than he was five minutes ago and looking bored already. My father still has his eyes on me, dissecting me and probably trying to figure out what I have done to make Sophie hate me.... well, stay mad at me anyway. A little too intensely, and it makes me even more irritated with myself.

Oh, I don’t know, broke her heart by rejecting her, yet kissed her anyway.

Asshole of epic proportions. I still do not know why I kissed her. Can’t even begin to analyze how it felt now the immediate feelings are fading from memory. When I try to, I get this huge overwhelming heavy blackness, which is pretty damn close to an all-out panic attack and I am so not ready to face that yet. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her though. That in itself has been driving me to the brink of insanity, and I wish I had never done this to myself. Opened that can of worms and let a million crazy feelings leach out from the recess of my mind, where I didn’t even know they had been lying dormant all this time. It’s no longer a clear-cut case of ‘don’t feel that way about her’, it’s now more of a ‘how much do I feel that way about her’ and ‘how long has it been without me knowing it’. The pros and con list on either side of this dilemma are huge, and I cannot navigate it, it’s all too much, too overwhelming, and insane.

I just need her to fucking talk to me. To help me find my bearings like she always does. She has no idea how calm she makes me, how still she makes my head when I get like this and has been my sea of peace I always ran to when my own head was torturing me alive. Sophie is my harbor in my own storm, even though she thinks I’m her cool and level to her own hurricane.

It’s crazy but somehow, we balance each other out in different ways and right now, my scales are fucked, and all the balance has fallen off one end. Sophie is the wild one, she’s the little live wire and the bundle of hard work... but she’s the one who brings me sanity. She knows how to stop me from turning my head inside out. Always so direct and uncomplicated, she says it like it is, she makes me see sense when I have no clue where sense lies.

“I’ll get these down to legal, will get the team on the next steps and get back to you.” Adam is on his feet, pulling all the papers towards him from the center and I send mine sliding towards him too, the pages fluttering as it travels the expanse of desk. The two men in suits get up with him to move, everyone exiting to go as my eyes follow them. Dragging my head back to the present and the matter in hand.

“Great. Keep us updated.” Jake watches them leave too, my father still watching me, and I have my eyes on the desk now, but I can see him from the corner of my eye. Staring at my cell and wondering how long before she stops blanking me, stops punishing me and killing me slowly. I left desperate messages with her folks today, something I have never done in all the years I have known her.

Sophie has me feeling all kinds of desperate and acting like some sad stalker who can’t get the hint that he has been cut off, high and dry. I won’t accept it, even if that does make me that sad desperate cling on. I already have plans to fly, or drive back there, if I haven’t heard from her by the end of the week. I’ll go walk into her bedroom and refuse to let her out until we talk about this shit. Until she helps me get my head back on a normal level and our relationship back on some sort of solid footing where we both know who stands where.

I am so done with this agony. Sophie has never ever pushed me out. I’m the exception to all rules. I’m her go-to guy, the way she’s my go-to girl. I hate this, it’s ripping my life apart in so many ways.

“We done?” I look at my dad and brother, both seemingly intent on staring at me silently, passing one another raised brow looks and I sigh and eye roll. Not in the mood for any lectures or probing. Jake knows what’s going on, he’s been a massive jerk about it and called me a pussy about twenty times this week already. He seems to think this is a simple decision to make. In Jake world he goes after what he wants, doesn’t care about consequences or people being hurt and he thinks I should do the same. He seems to forget who exactly it is we are talking about though, his own fucking god daughter for a start.

“What’s the problem with Sophabelle?” My father is on it again, now the room is vacant of any prying ears, and I strain my head back and let out an agitated sigh, sliding down in my chair, because I know this is futile. I feel about ten years old and about to get another father grilling on something I have done. His lectures are mind numbing sometimes and I have no desire to fight with him.

“She told Arry she’s in love with him.” Jake butts in, and I snap my eyes back to him, sitting immediately upright with a ‘what the fuck’ gesture. It’s suddenly open season on my problems today and it’s not his decision who gets to know the minute details of my life.

“I see” My father puts a finger to his lips and watches me carefully, while I am shaking my head at Jake, who’s grinning with that ‘you’re in trouble now’ face.

Asshole.

I swear my brother is a fucking juvenile sometimes, and I miss the days when he and my dad did not get along. I glare at him and try not to get up and walk off, as I know it’s futile. They would just follow me and keep trying to have this out; at least in here no one is snooping with big ears.

“You don’t love her?” My father actually seems surprised. Another one who seems to think this is a simple A or B type of thing and assumes because she is my best friend, that it automatically means I have been harboring secret sexual feelings for her. I’m pretty shocked though, that his initial reaction is not one of disgust or thoughts of how this may be considered incestual considering the closeness of our families.

For the love of god!

“It’s not that simple.” I say defensively, gritting my teeth and simmering the great Carrero temper deep inside. We all have it, flaw of our DNA, just some of us have a better handle on controlling it outwardly than others.

I get up, so not doing this with him. He is hardly the easiest guy to talk to when it comes to Sophie. He is as fiercely protective over her, as Jake is... as I am. She seems to bring it out on Carrero men, and the feeling is strong enough to incite aggressive tendencies. Jake is smiling, looking smug and I throw my pen at him as I push the chair away. Jake dodges it and grins harder, obviously amused with my turmoil today, my obvious distress over the shittiness of life, and women, and friendships.

He seems to be liking the fact that I have been this way all week; amused that the cool in control brother, for once, is the one acting like a bear with a sore head and having erratic juvenile flare ups of temper. You know, being Jake.

Smug asshole.

“Arry is in the good old ‘overthink, over analyze, and stress himself into an early ulcer’ mode. You know nothing we say will get his head together... he’s a stubborn ass hole when it comes to figuring shit out.” My brother smirks at me again, on his feet now too and shoulder shoves me as he walks past. Straightening his tie before losing patience and pulling it off in agitation, now the meeting is adjourned. I didn’t even bother with one today, after wrestling in the mirror with one this morning for twenty minutes, I threw it across the couch and left it at home. Agitation is becoming my new best friend and ties are something I rarely do.

“None of any of this is any of your fucking business.” I snap, annoyed that he is still going on at me, after days. Jake and his idea I should man up, give Sophie and me a chance and be done with it. No cares about hurting Natasha, how wrong this is, how huge a deal it would be if we didn’t work. The list of things in our way mean very little to him and sometimes his self-centered attitude drives me crazy.

Jake is a guy who pursues what he wants and doesn’t care who it affects. We are like chalk and cheese.

“Tetchy this morning, Buttercup.... losing that cool demeanor an awfully lot lately.” He tweaks my cheek immaturely and impulsively I raise a fist and slide into fighter mode, so ready to take the shit, head on, in this mood. He slaps my clenched fist with his palm, dancing around ready to spar and laughs at me, while lifting defensive fists in readiness. Our childish sparring, we do a lot. Lightening my mood, a little, at how much of a dumb ass he is; always ready to play fight and carry on like we are still kids. He makes a couple of mock jabs in mid-air which I dodge expertly.

“I will fuck you up.” I growl at him, no longer feeling serious, but still feeling messy inside. Sophie really knows how to screw me up without even trying and I wonder if she knows how badly she gets to me. I wonder if she knows how much she fucks my head and my heart up. Going to fight training is the only thing keeping me from self-imploding with all this shit inside of me.

“I will beat both of you if you do not stop this nonsense and get back to work. Arry, we will chat later.” My father’s heavy tone and narrowed gaze alerts us to the audience at the glass panel doors. Seems like a lot of staff are wandering around up here and we are apparently entertaining. I guess it’s not often you see two thirds of the CEO trio trying to play box with one another like five-year old’s in the board room. I drop my stance and sigh, now overly aware of the audience. Scooping up my cell and impulsively check the screen. I won’t be having any heart to heart later. I have training at six, the only way to keep me sane.

No calls, no texts.... no Sophie. It hits me low in the stomach and this churning weight that has been with me since I walked out of her bedroom. I hate that she has this power over me so effortlessly, without even trying. No other person alive has ever been able to get under my skin and pull my head and heart apart like she does.

“Yeah little bro, go lock yourself in your office and cry into some Ben and Jerry’s before our three o’clock meeting.” Jake winks and gets a shove from me as I pass him, with a cool look of not amused. Eager to be out the door so that I can be alone. I intend to call the Huntsbergers again and see if she is home yet, her housekeeper said she was out shopping, and I keep hoping I catch her. I don’t know what else to do besides keep trying.

I give them both a nod as if to say goodbye and head out the door before they do, making my way with my head down and fast steps. Stalking through the busy hall, trying to put distance between my brother and father, who will be hot on my heels soon enough, when my cell starts vibrating in my hand. Looking at it quickly my heart almost stops, and I do a double take of disbelief when I see Sophie’s name on the screen flashing back at me. It takes a second to register that I am not imagining it, that she really is calling me, and this isn’t a desperate hallucination.

I don’t hesitate to answer, despite where I am standing, stopping stock still. My stomach in my mouth almost instantly, internal fluttering with nerves and heart rate elevating as my palms get clammy in a nanosecond.

“Sophie?” I sound crazily breathy, but I am just so happy to finally have her call me that I seem to almost lose the ability to talk normally. The rush of Adrenalin and warmness that flow through me have stopped me in my tracks, standing in the middle of the hall as people push by me with small smiles and nods. I look back over my shoulder and see my brother and father are heading the other way, receding backs getting further away and relax a little, not needing an audience for this.

“You need to stop calling me.” She sounds like my girl, strong and beautiful, and a little irritated, if not a little emotional too. She sounds perfect, despite what she is actually saying to me. That inner knot in my stomach at finally hearing her voice again, even if it is to tell me to leave her alone and everything bouncing around in me that has been holding still, to just hear from her again. I can’t help the deliriously happy in this second, and yet also crushed that she is still defensive and closed off. I won’t be agreeing to that shit any time soon.

“You can’t hit me with a love confession, then cut me off, Sophs. I told you we needed to talk about this.” I answer her, half listening, half looking around for somewhere private to go to talk to her; determined that I will keep her on my cell for hours if that is what it takes to sort things out between us. Seeing nowhere else, I head back to the board room from where I just came from. It’s empty now and I need some quiet to talk to her.

“Yes, I can because I need to, and nothing can fix this except space. What is talking going to do, Arry? Huh? Are you going to suddenly not love Natasha anymore and ask me to settle down and be your girlfriend?” Sophie sounds defensive, hurt and her words cut me to the bone in all ways. Last thing I told her was that I didn’t feel that way about her, I haven’t told her that I don’t even know what I feel at all. That since I left all I have done is think about her, about us and all possible outcomes if there was even to be an us.

“I can’t just stop giving a shit about you. It’s not that easy. This whole thing is killing me, and I don’t know what else to do but talk to you about it. Your head is not’ the only one which has been fucked up by this.” I push open the door and head into the room distractedly, shutting it fast and latching the lock to make sure I get no interruptions. I move to the table and perch on the edge, trying so hard to keep myself together and hold the cell close as I can, to be able to hear every single sound from her while I get to have this small hold on her. I visualize her in my head and sigh at the fact she is finally talking to me.

Bittersweet as hell. Nothing feels as good as her voice to me right now, and all the weeks of churning anxiety and anger, dissipate with a connection to her. Finally talking to her and yet she is trying to cut me loose. Hearing her only reminds me of how much I have been missing her and how much I can’t deal with Sophie closing me out. I hate it. I can’t imagine anything worse in my life than more of what I have endured this past week.

“There’s nothing you can say. Just leave me be and let me move on, Arry. I’m begging you. Stop calling me, stop texting, and just leave me alone. Let me get over you and get some sanity back. Maybe after that, we can see each other ... but not until then.” Again, she sounds strained and emotional, doing what she thinks she needs to do. She doesn’t know that I might actually feel that way about her too, but I can’t tell her when it’s all so messy. Panic is gripping me at the thought of her cutting me off again, for longer than days this time and I can’t let that happen. I need Sophie in my life. She’s my sanity. I don’t want her to move on and get over me. She’s MY Sophie.

“I can’t do that... What if you need me? What if I need you?” I am trying to be honest because I know I’ll need her, yet I still just cannot come out and say the words she needs to hear. I know I should say something, confirm something about how I feel, but at the same time I don’t want to give her false hope or confuse her too. I just want to cling onto her.

Sophie is the girl I call or text when I need someone. She’s the one who can keep me up half the night with pointless funny texts about nothing when I need a mood lift. Sophie is the calm in the crazy, the sun in the dark. Even when I met Natasha, Sophie has always still been there in the foreground of my life.

“You’ve never needed me, and I need to learn to stop needing you. I won’t be going back down that route of self-destruction and booze, so you can be happy knowing I’m sorting myself out. I’m trying to be a better person, for me, and I’m trying to find a way to get on in life. I can’t do that if you keep pulling me back to you. If you care about me, like you say you do, then let me go. Let me do this on my own.” Her voice wobbles and breaks subtly, tears in her normally angelic tone and it rips me apart. I hate making my girl cry. Such a shithead and words stick in my throat. I can’t help but admire how grown up she sounds; how sure she is that she can do this. I want to be able to support her decisions, be the friend I have always been in all things, but I can’t. Cannot let her make a choice that leaves me in her dust, whether long term or short. I won’t survive without her.

How can she believe that I don’t need her?

“Sophs, please. Just meet me, let us talk about this. Don’t do this to me.” Don’t do this to us. We need each other. I know I can talk her round if I just see her again, face to face, one on one. I want to see her, it feels like years since I got to be near her and more than anything, I want the contact. We have years of friendship and co-dependency; we can’t let that go.

“I’ve made up my mind. Now respect my decision to be a grown-up about this. Don’t call me anymore, Arry, don’t leave me messages. I love you … but I need to let you go.” The strength in her tone cuts me to the core, as do her words. The same strength I have witnessed when she was dealing with her demon’s head on. She’s closing a door on me, disregarding my feelings or what I need in a bid to save herself, as she should but I won’t let her. I can’t let her. It’s not a life without her.

“Sophs?” I try desperately, my head telling me to fuck everything and tell her I do care, I do have feelings for her in the same way. Screw what happens, screw everyone but her. The weird silence on the phone is suddenly overwhelming and instinct makes me look at my cell, gnawing panic alerting me to the oddness of the noise, realizing she has hung up on me. That swift kick to the gut again disables me for a second, staring blankly in disbelief and I redial her cell immediately.

I am not done with this; we are not done. I will never be done with her and she can’t deliver a speech then fucking hang up on me. Panic grips my throat and my blood runs cold. There are three beeps and I know she has done it again, re-blocked my cell so I can’t call her, and I let out a massive ‘ARGHHH’, kicking a chair away from the table with the full brunt of my frustration as rage and heartache soar through me in a huge weight of overwhelm. I can’t breathe, trying hard to drag air into my lungs as I manically hit my cell with my fingers in a bid to redial.

“For fuck’s sake, Sophie!” I yell into the air and try again, despite knowing the outcome will be the same. The three beeps kill me. My heart and stomach twisting and collapsing inside with a force that it really feels like I have taken a full-frontal kick in the intestines. I won’t let her do this. I will fucking leave right now and get on the jet to go see her. I love her, she’s my best friend, and I won’t let her cut me out of her life!

I get up and pace the room, dragging my fingers through my hair crazily, panting and pacing, clawing my brain to bits in a bid to figure out what the hell to do. I catch sight of movement out of the corner of my eyes and realize people are staring at me through the glass. The office seems eerily quiet out there and I am more than aware they probably just all saw me kick a chair, ten feet across the floor, before cursing out the girl who has fucked my head up. I’m not angry with her, despite the rage I’m feeling, all mixed up with pain and sadness.

I’m angry at this situation, pissed that this is the way it is, that it has come to be. I can’t just throw everything aside, caution to the wind, and sweep Sophie off her feet into some crazy love affair and screw everyone else. There are too many things standing in the way. Too much to lose. Responsibilities, a life with another girl; families so intertwined that makes this so fucking wrong...... but then there’s Sophie.

My whole sole reason that I pulled my shit together at nineteen and grew up. The person I became was because of her because she needed me. She gave me a purpose that was more than how I was living my life back then.

How the hell does she not know this, it’s not like I never told her?

The magnitude of just what she means to me hits me again, another full body attack of pain, another bout of inability to breathe, and I know one thing for certain.

I cannot lose her.