Arrick’s POV

~ Sophies love confession ~

I wander across the street towards the Huntsbergers, that knot of anxiety that has been plaguing me since Sophie and I fought a couple days ago, and I’ve been unable to leave to go home without fixing this. I hate fighting with her, hate when we’re mad and brooding apart, but sometimes we need time apart to simmer. Sophie can be hard work at the best of times, especially when she is closed up in her usual defensive, keeping everyone at arm’s length, manner. I was tired, lack of sleep had me short with her and I acted like an asshole who should have known better than to bite when she is pushing me away. This is what she does when she needs people the most and I’m a complete ass for not recognizing classic ‘Sophie in pain’ mode.

I guess because it’s been a long while since she pushed me away so viciously. The last couple of days I have pulled her name up in my cell a million times, but my gut told me I owed her a face to face. She’s all I have thought about. Guilt eating away at my stubborn mood and a longing to make things right with us. I can never stay mad or distant with her, ever; the overriding need to reach out and feel her presence always consumes me. The truth is, I can’t ever have her mad at me, because I love her, and I hate fighting with her. Life sucks when Sophs is hating on me.

The Huntsbergers new housekeeper Olivia lets me in, and she motions upstairs when I ask for Soph’s whereabouts. The house seems eerily quiet and I’m glad. If we are about to have an all-out Sophie rage, then I would rather not have an audience. The girl knows how to throw a tantrum and a half, and she can be pretty verbal when she’s pissed at me. I know I deserve it. I dumped her back home, got snide with her and fucked off for an entire day while I simmered.

I don’t even know why I was so mad at her, but I was. A stupid reaction, and it took twenty-four hours minimum, to stop being that pissed. Lately I seem to get so easily mad at her and I don’t know why. It’s not me, it’s not how I have ever been with her, but these past few months she ignites it somehow. It’s almost like the harder she gets to handle, and the wilder her lifestyle, the more she gets inside my head and I react emotionally instead of facing what she needs from me to be okay again. It fucks me up that I can’t fix her.

She needs my help, not my moods and I know I am letting her down by acting like a prize idiot and avoiding her the last couple of days, instead of facing this head on like I used to. I pulled her through worse, handled things more calmly. I need to get back to that, it’s what she always needs.

I woke up this morning and it was clear as the sky. Stop fucking around and go be the best friend she needs. Stop dismissing her when you don’t know how to deal with her; you used to be her everything and now you’re never there for her. Sophie isn’t the problem here, I am. I stopped being her rock and this is my karma.

I scale the stairs at speed and come level with her bedroom door, surprised to see it’s wide open, which is unusual for her. She values her space and privacy a little obsessively sometimes, and I wonder if this is just another sign that she is desperately reaching out for her family to guide her. Welcoming people in easily, without hindrance, and I feel shittier that all the signs are there, and I have been missing them for god knows how long.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, pull on my most appealing expression to grovel for forgiveness I stride into her room with a confidence I definitely do not feel. Sophs mad at me is the same as being scalded by my Mom. It matters a hell of a lot more than it should.

Sophie is curled up on her bed, looking small and cute, her favorite fluffy Unicorn she named something crazily stupid, like ‘Princess Sparkly’, or some shit, is over her face with her arms wrapped around it tightly, blocking out the world. The Sophie pose of self-soothing, and I feel worse that she has needed a hug and I wasn’t around to supply her with one. My stomach sinks with the sight of her; back in kid mode, sweats and ponytails, and cuddly companions. Vulnerable and tiny, not doing so well in her battle against the big bad world and I fucking left her here. My stomach hits the floor with the weight of douchebagness, heart sinking and emotions heavy. This is the girl I’m powerless against. The girl who needs a protector.

“You could replace the bear with me. I hug back.” I say out loud, impulsively, to catch her attention and alert her to my presence. Meaning every single word as I stand here, desperate to go over and squeeze her half to death. I hate how broken she seems lying there alone. Sophie yanks the teddy down and glares at me with half shock, half outrage, and I have to suppress the urge to smile at that adorable little face she pulls. Even after all these years, that angry little rabid kitten face does crazy things to my insides. Powerless to ever feel anything but infatuation when she looks at me like that. No makeup, hair on top of her head messily, and she suddenly looks so young and innocent with those big blue eyes, blinking my way mistrustfully.

The tropical blue eyes of a perfect exotic sea, the first thing I ever fell in love with on her and even now they still hold a crazy amount of power over me. She looks away from me, sits up and starts toying with the fluffy beast moodily, turning away and I can tell she’s probably still sulking. Avoiding my gaze. I sigh heavily.

My moody little Madame.

I push down the swell of nerves building up inside of me, relax a little that at least she isn’t yelling and telling me to fuck off, and stand by the door waiting to see if I should come in. I’m hesitant and wary, knowing she can be unpredictable and the last thing I want is another fight and scope her bedside for missile launchable implements she may feel a need to send my way with that psycho aim of hers, and see nothing that will hurt much.

“Why would I want to do that?” She answers quietly, huffily, without glancing my way and I hear her sigh. I do too, powerless to resist her and suddenly overwhelmed with the need to wrap her up and squeeze her to death. I hate when she’s upset, I hate when we are not okay even more. It makes me feel like crap too and the ache in my gut reminds me what a shithead I’ve been with her lately. Sophie deserves a lot better from me. I’ve been neglecting her and letting her down far too much these past two years.

“Because I could do with a forgiveness hug after being an asshole yesterday. Saying things I didn’t mean. Tell me what you need to forgive me, Sophs.” I smile her way and catch her eye for a second before she looks away again, crazily evasive for her and wounding my soul. I wonder if she is still mad or if this is awkwardness because she thinks I might be; after all, I did storm off and hurt her.

I’m not mad at you, Mimmo.

“Maybe, I don’t forgive you.” She whispers, looking down as she pulls the Unicorn into her stomach and squeezes tighter. Childlike and irresistible, she knows how to make every part of me feel the full brunt of regret at hurting my girl. And boy, does she? I swear she can psychically kick me in the stomach any time she pleases.

I can’t resist it any longer, moving from the doorway and crossing to get on the bed beside her. Every part of me needs to console her and fix this weirdness between us. We never go long periods without making up, we rarely fight to the point that one of us walks away and I hate this distance, hate how little and hurt she looks like this. It has the same effect as gripping my heart in my chest and squeezing it until it stops beating.

“Looking like a kid again, Sophs. Are you back to sulking like one, and making me suffer for being a shithead?” I flop down beside her, trying to ensnare her with my arm into a much-needed hug, but she resists and dodges me. A tiny flicker of wariness on that dainty face and a hint of a glare. Still pissed then. “Don’t stay mad at me.” I implore her, moving in closer to try and angle around to catch her eye. Face to face I can usually read her a little better, win her around a little easier when she has to look me in the eye. Sophie is a tough nut to crack, but I have insider knowledge from years of doing so.

“I’m not mad at you anymore.” She rushes her words, still avoids me, and then slides off the bed fast, leaving Princess Squishy, or whatever its name discarded on the bed between us. Getting the hell away from me is not a good sign. She’s way madder than even I gave her credit for.

Shit.

I sigh and my heart sinks that this may prove to be harder than I thought. Even for sulky Sophie, she is acting out of sorts and evasive maneuvers usually mean she is in lock down inside her own head over more than just a fight. Locking me outside her wall is never a good sign.

“What’s wrong then? You’re acting weird as hell if you’re not sulking. Did you not sleep?” I watch her walk around her room in bare feet, baggy t-shirt, doing nothing for her figure, yet she looks exactly how I always think of her. In casual clothes, young and clean faced, crazily beautiful. This is the Sophie I love the most, the real her who doesn’t have to dress up and layer on the make up to be gorgeous.

She is usually grumpy as hell when she hasn’t slept enough though, and she looks exhausted right now. Again, guilt eats at me that maybe this is down to me and directly related to our fight. The past has taught me that our tiffs affect both of us equally, so it’s not crazy to assume this is why she is off. Making me an even bigger shithead than I previously thought.

“Yeah, I’m tired.” She answers me flatly and I frown, concern rising as I watch her move to the window and gaze out forlornly. She seems so distant and closed off and I don’t like it at all. I hate not knowing what she’s thinking, hate when she won’t talk things out with me and get up to close the gap between us. Inner gut tense and nerves a little on edge with how she is. I walk up behind her and slide my arms around her slight figure, fitting against her like a second skin. It’s so easy to cuddle Sophs, she’s always felt natural within my arms and I gravitate to touch her anytime we are close by, almost instinctively. I want so badly for us to be okay again as I rest my jaw against her hair and breathe in her unique, addictive, Sophie scent. She always smells like flowers, candy and warm happy days, a smell that calms me and brings me to a happy place. She reminds me of summer nights at the beach for some reason, maybe because I’ve taken her there a million times, and she smells like tropical getaways, fruity cocktails, and a warm sea breeze with all the warm happy memories to go with it.

“Sophs, I’m sorry. I know I walked out after saying I would be here for you, but I’m trying to make things right. I hate when we fight. We we’re both tired and emotional and being shitty and impulsive and letting nonsense fall out of our mouths. Can we just start over?” I hold her a little tighter, content in being with her, but I sense her tension suddenly. Her body turning rigid within my hold and she shrugs me off fast. Abhorring my touch is rare, almost non-existent since she was around fifteen, and I get that kick low down in my stomach that knocks me for six. Like a physical rejection from her and it cuts me to the core.

“Stop ... I can’t. It’s fucking with my head.” She blurts out, turning clumsily so she bangs into the wall behind her and gawps at me like she is about to burst into tears. Terrified deer in the headlights comes to mind and completely confuses my already shell-shocked state. My heart constricts, and stomach tightens achingly at her reaction. She has never weirded out from me touching her before, well not in a long, long time. The way she spun out disrupted the small vanity to the side of her and sent a million cosmetic jars spilling crazily all over. A perfume bottle rolls towards me and I scoop to pick it up as I try to get my head out of my ass. Scalded by Sophs of way back, before she trusted me, abhorring my touch.

“Sophs, what the hell has gotten into you?” I pick it up automatically and stand up to look at her, catching a shadow of fear and sheer panic on her face that instantly halts me in my tracks. I have no idea what the hell has gotten into her, she knows I would never hurt her. Never any sort of threat. She knows she can trust me, always. I would never do anything to make her afraid.

“Nothing. I think you should go... I don’t feel well, and I need to lay down.” She’s stammering, emotional, and I have the horrid stomach-churning sensation in my gut that we are not anywhere near okay or will be if I go. Panic rising inside of me and knocking me off kilter. I scan her face and there’s tell-tale signs of dishonesty that wound me. She’s being evasive, hiding, closing me out. Breaking me in the worst ways.

“Why are you lying to me? You never lie to me.” Stabbing pain shoots through my chest at the thought Sophie is being this way towards me; she’s my best friend. We’ve always been honest with one another, and now she’s hiding from me emotionally and trying to make me leave. Wounding my soul by trying to separate us and I wonder how much truth was in her parting words when we fought, that she doesn’t need me anymore. I almost can’t breathe with the thought of it. She’s the Robin to my Batman, the ying to my yang…. She can’t not need me anymore.

I step forward to pull her back to me needily, wanting to keep my hold on my girl impulsively, but she raises a palm to my chest, stopping me mid movement and seems to inhale harshly.

“I can’t, please don’t make me.” She’s visibly upset, and it only deepens the pangs of fear in my stomach, churning me up. I know I was a douchebag of epic proportions, but she is overreacting crazily to our fight. I’m all churned up, caught between panic and fear, yet disbelief. Maybe she’s really trying to punish me for being a dumbass.

“Sophs, you’re worrying the shit out of me, what’s wrong with you? Don’t make you what? Forgive me? That makes no sense; I can’t force you to not be mad at me?” I try to smile, even though every one of my alarm bells is ringing crazily. Anxiety peeking at why she is being so weird with me when I want to fix us back to how we always are. I want to hug her better and make us okay again. I need us to be okay. “Stop being weird and come here.” I shake my head at her, trying to dismiss this, hoping it’s just stubbornness and upset, and a whole lot of tiredness that has her being so hormonal. Trying to stay cool, even though I am seriously not. I manage to snag my finger in her belt loop and tug her to me, to get hold of her for a hug again as I don’t know how else to calm her down, or me. Her body collides with me clumsily as I get her closer and panic sweeps her face in a nanosecond as she recoils crazily.

“You can’t touch me like that anymore...It’s not right... we shouldn’t… I mean, it’s not proper … Because, it isn’t, in anyway … because … you just have to not, okay … just don’t… I mean, it’s not cool … when ...I … I … love you!” She bursts out, twisting free of my attempt at an embrace and I really am shocked at how insane she is being. We always touch or hug, it’s never been an issue, in years, not since the first time she let me hug her. Her normal ‘love you’ sentiment cools my jets a little though, knowing she at least still does, and this is not about that, about not needing me anymore. Relaxing a little, knowing that maybe all this is, is exhaustion.

“What are you talking about? I love you too, Sophs. Touching you in what way?” I try to dismiss it, reaching again, only this time she ducks and moves further away as tears fill those perfect tropical blue eyes and I’m hit in the chest with another thud of guilt. Crying she does from time to time, for various reasons, but not often. I hate it, hate how useless it makes me feel, how inadequate at making her feel better when it’s clear I caused them.

Sophie baby, don’t.

“Sophs, what the hell?” Reacting impulsively to her, I turn to watch her, where she is standing and realize that she looks, how I feel. Panicking, confused; and it’s only making me even more so. My palms getting clammy and my throat drying with anxiety at her obvious distress and lack of verbal explanation. “What is it, Mimmo?” I really have no clue and can’t help the impulse that moves me closer to her again.

She needs to talk to me, to explain what’s going on in that pretty little blonde head if I am to help her. She knows that’s what I’ll always do if she just tells me what’s going on with her today. She holds up a shaky palm and looks at me with utter devastation on her angelic face, that cuts my heart like a knife. Breath catching in my throat as I stare at her with scrutiny. That openly scared expression, the tiny tremble of her lips and the slight furrow of brow over those endless eyes.

“I. LOVE. You.” She says it slowly and emphasizes it this time, and I just blink at her, completely confused and slow on the uptake.

I know Sophs loves me, she tells me all the time. I don’t get what this is and why she’s so upset about it. I don’t get why she feels the need to keep emphasizing she cares about me. I know this, she knows I love her too.... I honestly don’t understand, unless she somehow feels I don’t anymore, because I left her here and walked off mad?

“Okay.... You said that ....” I move towards her, smiling a little as I try to get my head around why she is being odd, trying to weigh up my theory and it suddenly registers with the way she is watching me painfully, intensely; as though seeking some sort of answer to what she said. The penny drops from a great height and almost takes me out with the impact of the blow as I stupendously connect the dots and stumble with the fallout.

“By love? ...... Sophs.... What do you mean?” I frown at her as a tightening knot, envelopes my guts and my anxiety hitches steadily, a little tremor of clarity pushing through at exactly what she is telling me. Fogginess giving way to a little niggling realization that brings up a huge wave of nervous nausea. I must visibly pale as it feels like all the blood drains from my face.

“I’m sorry, Arry, I didn’t mean to. It’s not like I meant for things to change... It just happened.” She looks even more devastated this time, eyes glazing with tears, breaking me apart. I can’t breathe as it forces its way into my head, exactly what she means. I pause, momentarily stunned and have no clue how to react at all. Still as stone while my brain throws itself into a frenzy of emotions and thoughts and I am rendered temporarily stunned as it sinks in and set’s my brain on fire.

Sophie is my best friend, the girl I love like a best friend. Like a sister.

“You don’t love me like that, Sophs, you don’t know what you’re saying. This is stupid, you’re confused.” It tumbles from my mouth as my mind tries to catch up, still in shock, fumbling and staring at those searching scared eyes she’s locked on me and I can barely breathe. My body turns rigid; I can see her staring at me, that beautiful little face so open and afraid, and yet all I can feel is a huge building wave of sheer panic and a need to back away from her at a hundred miles an hour. My feet seem to follow, and I halt myself from literally running away from her.

My hands have a mind of their own and grasping at fuck knows what, between us. I shove them down and try to stop my feet from turning again to get away from her. Needless to say, this is not a reaction I ever thought I would have to something I never thought I would hear from Sophs of all people.

We are not like this with one another.... we’re best friends. It’s not right, it’s weird on so many levels and I don’t look at her that way.

“Arry?” She reaches for me this time, stepping towards me, but the wave of blackness closing in on me makes me move away impulsively. Afraid that her touch might send me running and that would be the shittiest thing to do to her right now. Trying to control my breathing, lungs heavy, as her eyes bore into me, eating me away with that terrified look in her eye. I want to be who she needs, to hold her and tell her it’s all going to be okay, but I’m freaking out, and realizing that nothing is going to be fucking okay if she looks at me in that way.

That’s like kissing and sex...... Sophie and sex...No, no, no, NOPE!!!

“You’re like a kid sister to me.... You are a kid sister to me. We’re not like that. You … me... we have never been like that. This isn’t right, Sophs; this is wrong on so many levels, it’s practically incest.!” I blanch at her, head in chaos, thoughts tumbling around crazily. I can’t even begin to comprehend what being that way with her would be like. It’s wrong on so many levels. My body is in a state of cold panic and my blood is sending weird icy waves from my toes to my head as it tingles across my scalp and gives me the shudders. A full-on bodily reaction to how wrong this is.

I mean look at her... she’s so young, and vulnerable, and pure. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, daren’t, ever cross that line with her. She’s MY Sophie! The way she’s looking at me is ripping my insides out on top of all that. Wounded, hurt by my scathing rejection, and it’s killing me inside. I’m so fucking powerless to do anything but hold my shit together and not make this worse for her.

“You think I wanted this? You think I asked to start feeling differently about you? Or to even know that’s what this emptiness has been? Don’t you think I wish I could just push it all away, and be like I was before?” She raises her palms, her face overcome with regret and heartbreak, tears threatening to spill, and I feel that same stabbing pain in my gut. She’s hurting, and I’m doing nothing to alleviate it. I have no words; nothing formulates or comes out of my mouth as a million thoughts and feelings collide like a massive train wreck in my head. I think I might be sick; the room is tilting pretty badly, and maybe I should sit down. Definitely not getting enough oxygen and my own panting breath is drowning out her voice. “I didn’t know until yesterday that this is what is even wrong with me. This is all a shock to me too, and it’s not like I don’t know that this isn’t right. I know you don’t look or feel that way about me, I know you’re in love with Natasha and this fucks me and you up in every way. You don’t need to point this out to me … I already know, Arry!” She sobs with the rush of words and I impulsively reach for her, that part of me instinctively needing to always be her strength, cutting through my chaos, aching to be her shoulder to cry on, her arms to wrap around her, yet, I realize I can’t anymore.

I shouldn’t be touching her if she feels this way about me, right? It sends mixed signals.

I hesitate, my soul aching to hold her, yet my brain telling me not to touch her and give her the wrong idea about what I feel. I have no clue what to do.

I try to think about it objectively, sizing her up, wondering if I even could.... That we might be able to even cross any line like that. I know that I find her beautiful, stunning even, but it’s Sophie... it’s my little Mimmo. I have no clue if I could ever give her more than what we have. I refused to allow my head to ever go there once I got to know her, although once upon a time, there was a moment. A moment I wanted her, right back in the beginning, before I knew how young she was, or how scarred. And then I became someone she needed, a best friend, and I vowed to never let my thoughts stray that way again. And I haven’t, until now.

Natasha runs through my head, and a huge overwhelming pit of ache pins my chest as I visualize her in my head, reminding me that my heart is already invested elsewhere, and I should not even contemplate any what if’s. It’s so abhorrent to even be mentally unfaithful that I shove it all aside.

“I don’t know what to say. What you want me to do? I don’t even know how to feel right now, Sophs. We’re Batman and Robin, not Batman and Catwoman!” I move back to give myself breathing space, my body is too eager to wrap around her and hug this all away, but I know it won’t help either of us. So majorly confused. I never saw this coming at all, and I am pretty sure Sophie is having some sort of midlife crisis, that this is all a huge misunderstanding.

It has to be because I literally don’t know how to navigate us out of this. She slumps down on the floor facing me, as I hit the wall behind my back and slump down too, mirroring her across the carpet, unsure what else to do or feel in this moment. I have a slew of reasons pouring through my brain about why this is wrong, as if I would even contemplate it......which I wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Sophie has never been that kind of a deal to me...well, maybe that once, a long time ago. I looked at her that way for a brief moment, but that was before. We have come so far since I first met her, we have become so much more to each other than this. She’s my Best Friend, in every way. She trusts me to never cross her boundaries.

“If I knew what to do then I would be doing it.” She sniffs through quiet tears and my heart is literally wrenched out of my chest. She looks so broken and I hate myself for this, for not feeling that way about her too. For not responding to her love confession with one of my own.

Fuck! I do love you Sophie, just not the way you want me to.

“You and me, Sophs, it’s always been innocent. It’s always been platonic. I don’t get how this...” I can’t tear my eyes from her, trying to let this sink in.

“You don’t get how I could fall in love with you? Really?” Anger spikes in her voice, that dripping sarcasm replacing the pain, and for a moment I stare at her in awe. The beauty that is Sophie. That fire when she’s hurt, that self-preservation kicking in to fiercely protect her wounded soul. I hate that it’s here between us now, but at the same time it’s a part of her that I have always loved.

Her strength, when faced with pain. She will always be my fighter, my survivor, my little warrior. It rips me apart some more, knowing I’m seeing it now because of me, it’s aimed my way, as I watch that angelic beauty start to close up on me, reverting to inner Sophie to shield herself from the agony that I’m inflicting on her. Stomach and heart meeting in unison as both drop low in my pelvis with a thudding pang of regret. I’m never usually the cause for her to recoil inside her Sophie defense system. I’m normally on the inside with her and helping her to find her way back out.

“Is it really that awful, or unbelievable?” She struggles to her feet, that mask lifting up to shield her emotions, her face calming to impassive, and her wall building. I can see it happening right in front of me and I’m powerless to do anything about it. It’s killing me to see it from this side once more. It’s been five whole years since I was over this side of the wall, and it took a hell of a lot of work to break through. I never imagined it would be her love for me that sent me back to exile after all we have been through.

I stand up too, feeling at a disadvantage down here and my legs are not as rubber as they were moments ago. I think the shock is wearing off, and still reeling in indecision. I find concentrating on being upright a momentary relief.

“No, it’s just … Sophs, this is morally wrong, it crosses so many boundaries. I’ve been your guardian since you were a kid. I watched you grow up … I know everything about what he did to you. We could never …”” I’m rambling, trying to grasp at the bricks she is piling up between us and push them aside, make her see sense, while still letting this sink in and the huge obstacle this could be. I’m trying to convince myself too, but it’s stupid.

I know how I feel, right? Natasha – girlfriend. Sophie – best friend, kid sister, sort of. There should be no feeling of confusion about that.

“Jesus Christ! It’s not like I am about to force you to have sex with me for god’s sake. Overreacting just a tad, aren’t we?” She snaps at me, stalking to her dresser and swipes a hairbrush angrily, seemingly intent on killing her hair, rather than me, I guess. That cold veil of ice moves through my body at the image she has planted in my head, of her, and me, doing something naked that should not be in my head at all. Like a flash of ex rated something, I would never ever allow to materialize, and it makes me feel like I am suffocating as I blink it away and yet steadily get a stirring in my pants. Feeling like a grade A perverted creep for even picturing myself doing something like that to her. Anxiety back tenfold at the wrongness of what I just imagined doing to her, with her, and the immediate weird reaction, even if minor, my dick had.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Jesus, Sophie, ... don’t put that visual in my head ... I don’t want to think about sex with you. I couldn’t ever do that to, or with you ... I don’t think I could even kiss you, let alone ...” Mumbling aloud while trying to push thoughts of doing all of that out of my head in sheer panic and disgust, but naked Sophie is harder to shift than I ever imagined she could be. This is obviously why I have never allowed myself to ever stray down this path for love nor money. Now I can’t fucking shift it.

Sophie throws me a raised brow look that ignites the memory of her telling me we kissed, and the blood drains from my face as my heart misses a beat, guiltily. I really do feel like I may throw up this time as everything is unravelling before my eyes. Life going to shit in an instant.

“I know we did then, but I was drunk, and I don’t even remember. I don’t think I could ever...That I would want to if we.... Or I mean......It’s … just that you and I … trust, and our families … I can’t imagine I could kiss....” I can’t breathe, my chest achingly tight and my brain feels like it may self-implode. Vision swimming with black dots around me as I try to cram it all back inside my neat little brain shelving system. I don’t do well with drama, and chaotic situations like this.

“For the love of God!” Sophie snaps again, and I am alerted to her stalking towards me a little too late. Before I even know what’s happening, before I get a handle on this light-headed bullshit, Sophie’s hand is on my face and her mouth is on mine, nose to nose, lip to lip. Intoxicated for a brief moment by her lips and taste on mine. And everything stills...........

Just for a second, a blank moment of nothing but soft sweet lips on mine, butterflies, and longing for more. Brain taking a vacation as she brings me the calm I have craved my whole life. My messy brain stopping for a pure perfect moment of peace. Right before that full punch in the face realization that she is kissing me, hits me tenfold in the gut, and I jerk away; instinctively pushing her back by her upper arms. Stung by the mortification of what we are doing and that it wasn’t how I imagined it would be at all. I thought kissing her would be the worst experience of my life, not this….

“What the hell did you do that?” The shock of that moment of complete contentment, the stirring of something else inside of me, makes me feel guilty as shit. Natasha probing my head with a broken face and weeping wail, emotions spewing out of me and I’m aiming my frustration at Sophs. Lashing at her because my mind really has lost the plot and I no longer know which way is up anymore. Kissing her didn’t feel wrong in any way. It felt good.

“To shut you up; you’re rambling, and to clear up all your confusion... See! You clearly can’t. You can go now. Guess we’re done here.” She lifts her chin moodily, my strong fiery girl. When faced with pain she always hits it head on, defiantly.... my little warrior. I feel like a fucking shit head in this moment and when she moves away, and when I see that glimmer of crushing heartbreak in her face, I react without thought. I catch her by the wrist instinctively, pull her back hard and fast, and lock lips with her before the doubts kick in.

That stillness, that moment of heaven, the immersion into an eruption of feel good tingles and chest swelling, weirdly. It happens again. Like a slow content, almost blissful silence in my head, while my body gives into sensation; where the only thing I can feel, or see, or taste, is her. And I like it.

My fingers find their way to her face, shocked we fit so perfectly as our mouths mold flawlessly together. She tastes like she smells. Tropical, sweet, addictive, a kiss so soft and perfect that I want to pour more of myself into it. I try to get lost in the moment, the eruption of fire in my stomach, the way my body warms at the contact achingly, as though finding something it has been yearning for and longing to devour it whole; but the kick of guilt and horror that overtakes me at doing this, as sense and logic kicks in, hits full force and leaves me breathless as I pull away. Lifting my palms away from touching her.

I realize how little control I actually had of my faculties in doing what I just did. There was no explanation for crossing this line other than a moment of total stupidity. No way to explain the way my senses took over and reacted like that kind of contact between us was natural. I’m beyond livid with myself for my behavior, on all accounts. I have a fucking girlfriend! Sophie is my BEST friend.

“Shit. I don’t know why I..... I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck, Sophs. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I ... I don’t know why I …” I move away from her, no longer able to trust myself and completely fucked up by how I’m feeling about her right now. Her kiss lingering in my head, her taste, her lips. That stirring inside of me that I could maybe feel that way about her if I let myself explore the possibility, explore more of that kind of contact between us.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!!!

What the fuck are you doing, Arry?

I am freaking out, I know I am. My heart rate is through the roof and I can barely breathe, let alone think straight. My feet are pacing, even though I have no clue as to where they are going, and I cannot stand at peace to still the chaos in my brain. She stares at me wordlessly and it’s unbearable. I have nothing to say; for myself, for what I just did. I don’t know what to even do. I’m not a cheat, a guy who uses women or discards his girlfriend so carelessly, yet I just kissed another girl, willingly.

“I need you to go.” Sophie looks at me with an almost dead pan expression, but that tiny flicker in those endlessly deep eyes tells me she’s hurting and it’s another strike in the stomach. Forget my brain chaos, my girl is in distress, and I just made it all fucking worse.

“Soph?” I lift my hand to reach for her, even though I have no clue what to say. Completely out of my depth and I need time to process all of this. She gives me the big ‘back off’ glare and I know this is futile. Like me, Sophie needs processing time, and in her frame of mind versus mine, we will get nowhere except running around in circles. I’ve managed to get myself near the door with my chaotic pacing, and I realize that leaving is maybe the best idea right now. She’s right. We both need a little space to get some perspective on this. I know us, I know her, and she needs breathing space to sulk, while I need space to think about everything that just happened in a very short time.

I mean, I walked in here to mend bridges and hang out with my best friend. I’m leaving with our relationship in shreds and my head on how I feel about fucking the girl who is my best friend.

Jesus.

“I need some time to let this sink in... I can’t think straight......” I move to her, but then realize that was the mistake I made before and ended up kissing her the first time.

Fuck, I kissed her! Why the fuck did I do that? I can’t cross this line, can I?

No one would ever forgive me. My heart almost stops beating when I think about the bigger picture here, and exactly how both of our families would react to Sophie and I hooking up.

In an instant it kills any doubt about ever crossing that line, when I think about the trust and faith they have in me, to always do right by her. When I think of her past and why it would be a huge gross misuse of her trust in me, to let anything happen. She’s fragile, her feelings for me tied up in her healing process and I can’t endanger that.

Sophie looks closed off and I know I need to end any hope she may have from that kiss, while I get my shit together and my brain out of my ass. I can’t leave this hanging between us; I need to be clear that I made a stupid mistake. She can be mad, upset, and moody, she will process it a lot faster if I give her instant closure.

“I’m sorry, Sophs ... I just don’t think I feel that way about you. I have a girlfriend, and I don’t know how the hell to play this. I should never have kissed you, and I have to tell her.... That’s not who I am. I don’t cheat. I don’t know what that was.” I know I should leave, but even as the words fall out that pit of anxiety grows, and the words feel like lead in my mouth. I can’t decide if it’s because I know I’m hurting her, or if it is the fact that I’m not being honest. I never lie, especially not to her.

How can I tell her anything going on in my head though, when it can’t lead anywhere and never will? Too many people involved, too much at stake and too much to lose. Natasha is already going to be hurt when I go home and tell her what I’ve done, and it makes me feel even more nauseous. I hate hurting people, yet here I am hurting the two women who matter the most, hurting Sophie.

I kissed her.... I liked it. I need to forget it. It felt like I always imagined kissing the right girl would feel like, but it’s her, Sophie. Never ever would I ever go there. She means more than this. We mean more than this and I don’t see a future without her in it. If I want to hold on to that then I have to kill this now, it’s too messy.

“It was nothing, why bother? It was barely more than a graze of lips, almost chaste, and probably brotherly on your end. You will only hurt her, and it’s pretty clear that it was a spur of the moment test that failed. I don’t blame you for anything. You have always been everything for me and more. I owe you so much, and I fell in love with you for it. Now maybe you’re right. We grew apart, and maybe we were meant to, exactly for this reason. So, go ... I’m not mad. I just need you to leave, and maybe we should just stay clear of each other for a bit, while I get my head straight.” Sophie barely looks at me and her voice betrays nothing. It kills me inside, because I know her and know this is the face of indifference she presents when she is wounded. She can make me bleed without even trying, with words that hold so much weight even though I know none of it is true. She doesn’t really mean any of it; she’s acting out to save herself from heart ache. We haven’t drifted apart; we just haven’t been nurturing our friendship and she has no idea how I even feel about her or that kiss. She isn’t just mad at me, she’s devastated. For the first time in what we are, we are lying to each other and it cuts me deeply.

“Sophs?” Guilt consumes me, and my need to always heal her is the overriding emotion. I want to wipe this away, fix it somehow, be honest and talk this out properly. She looks so alone and vulnerable, even under the tough exterior, the way I hate her looking. My heart constricts in my chest, yet I am powerless. Torn with doing what is right, over what my gut wants to do.

“Just go, you’re only making it worse.” She sounds cold and I hesitate about going to her. Her slight frame and petite little body cries to be held. My own heart telling me to just fuck everything and go to her. I yearn to wrap around her and make this better. Shield her from the heartbreak she’s feeling. I hate knowing Sophie is in pain, yet I’m causing it. Why the fuck did this have to be so complicated?

“GO!” She repeats it angrily and I know I should. There is nothing I can do right now and the longer we stay like this I will only end up making it worse. Reluctantly I move back, watch her turn away from me for a second and feel that panic rise in my stomach, torn in two about what to do. Hesitation is the overriding factor. I need to think this through, I’m better when I get space to process things and this is what I need to do. I should give myself space to lay it out neatly and plan how to overcome it all, then come back to her.

I watch her in closed down ‘stay away’ mode and finally start to leave quietly, knowing I have no other option. Sophie is in the frame of mind where she wants to be left alone and even if I had something more positive to say to her, she’s not in the mood to hear it. I walk away, pausing outside her door in a moment of doubt about whether I should go or not. Torn as I give her one last lingering look.

She has her back to me, held stiffly as she messes with the stuff on her vanity and I can tell it’s an act to push me to leave. Fake indifference. She’s guarding herself, holding together until I go away. I shouldn’t leave without saying something ... even goodbye.

I go to speak, but nothing comes out, unsure what to say and somehow a goodbye isn’t what I want to say at all. So instead I turn and leave, before I change my mind. I pause in the hall but then catch sight of movement in the lower landing and think better of hanging around like some creepy stalker.

I need to go and think, take some time to really figure out how to salvage my friendship with her after what I just did. What she told me about how she feels. There is so much to compute. I move down the stairs quickly, my head elsewhere and nod at the housekeeper as I let myself out into the daylight. Barely taking in the journey as I move on autopilot; fit ready to collapse with how much heavy weight my body seems to be dragging with me. Everything surreal and as fresh air and open space hits me with the light of day, I realize I have no clue what to do with myself.

I planned on being with her for the day, hanging out, Sophie quality time, and now I’m standing in her front yard staring emptily at the street and no clue what the fuck to feel. Like a tidal wave of sheer anxiety hits me from all angles and I slump down on the front step and sit down defeatedly, head aching with too much to handle.

Sophie is in love with me, and I never saw it coming at all. My best friend is in love with me and it feels like it changes everything in my entire world and brings it all crashing in on me.

I feel something....... But......... I have a girlfriend. I’m supposed to be in love with Natasha. I am in love with her. I have responsibilities relating to Sophie that would make being with her so wrong. She’s like a sister in a way. My family would be pissed at me, hers would be too. I’m too old for her, she’s too young, we’re not right in that way. If we dated and we didn’t work out, I would lose her, and I can’t ever lose her. It doesn’t bare thinking about.

My head is all over the place with a million conflicting thoughts and I really do try and grasp the reality of my feelings over the top of the noise of the good boy voice in my head, dictating what the right thing to do should be. I’ve never been so confused in my life. That niggling devil is prodding me in the heart and distracting me from everything else.

Do I feel more? Could I feel more?

Sophie is beautiful, funny, smart, fearless. I have always been in awe of her for so many reasons, and if it was down to attraction alone, then I don’t think I would have a problem if I allowed myself to think about her in terms of looks alone. I have never denied that I think she’s gorgeous in every way. She has the kind of perfection that is so rare, effortlessly, and a figure that turns heads. I’m not blind, not celibate either. I get how attractive she is...I just swore to never go there, for a million reasons that all add up to more than enough to stop this dead.

I do not want to ever go there, even in my head. I put her firmly on platonic in the first weeks I ever knew her and have refused to cross that line ever since. I have no clue how she would even handle a physical relationship after what she went through, I have never seen what she’s like with boyfriends. I always avoided seeing her dating.

Why? Maybe I should have analyzed why I never wanted to see her date before now.

On an emotional level, she can be hard to handle, stroppy, childish, and complicated at her worst. A relationship would not be like a friendship in which I can dismiss a lot of how she is; together, in love, all that would mean so much more. She has scars that reach deep, making her more fragile than most, and going down this route would only abuse the trust she has in me.

None of that has ever made me want to lose her as a friend. If anything, those parts of her make her who she is. I like her fire and her sassy attitude, I would even say that they are my favorite parts of her, and I indulge her because of it, encouraging it in ways. I love her strength, and her ability to face things most girls would crumble at, because she has been through and survived so much. She’s fearless and strong, and I admire and respect that about her crazily.

I love her wit, her sarcasm and her childishness, even if those things could make it hard to have any sort of deeper connection to her. She entertains me, wraps me around her little finger without even trying, so imagine if I did give her my heart fully, I would be so lost to her. The thought terrifies me.

This would fuck everything up, in so many ways, and we would risk everything that we are. I can’t risk that between us. I need Sophie in my life, she keeps me sane and grounded. I can’t be thinking about the what if’s, I shouldn’t even be contemplating them.

But that kiss...... Everything stopped with a kiss. And I have no idea how the fuck I should feel when I think about kissing her.

All I know is that one tiny, almost nothing kiss, made me feel more in those few seconds, than kissing Natasha for the last two years of my life has done.

Fuck. Fuckity, fucking, fuck!