Chapter 42

Moving to the window, looking outside to the sea view to try and hone my thoughts and emotions into one steadier more manageable block, rather than this messy, all over the place shambles. I fall to pieces when his breath tickles the back of my neck, sending a thousand tiny goosebumps across every inch of my skin and flutters in my stomach. I freeze as his arms slide casually around my shoulders from behind and he nestles against me, his jaw against my hair above my ear. I don’t move, afraid to breathe, afraid to let myself react in anyway, and try to push down all the confused signals my body starts sending out in every direction. Suddenly aware of how much we have touched each other over the years, how abnormal this really is for two platonic people who are not related. The lack of boundaries we have considering my past. I’m so confused.

“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?”

His body moves around me like a protective shield, but instead of the safe haven and relaxed feeling it used to give me, I shift into high alert, overly aware of where exactly parts of his anatomy are touching me and trying not to. I can pretty much feel his trouser snake nestling in between my butt cheeks in an overly sensual way that makes my stomach erupt in fire and shame. I shrug out of his embrace a tad harshly, heart thumping through my chest and literally feel like I am about to join Leila in the bat shit crazy ranks.

“Stop ... I can’t. It’s fucking with my head.” I blurt out insanely. Pulling myself back against the wall defensively, hoping space will calm the tidal wave of tingles coming from my toes, as I turn on him, disrupting the table beside the window. I send all the trinkets and perfume bottles clattering over noisily and reach out to stop the biggest one smashing.

“Sophs, what the hell has gotten into you?” Arrick frowns hard at me and moves to pick up a bottle that rolls towards his foot. Even watching all that wide muscle and perfect male body scoop and stoop and fluidly straighten up to his tall height and bring that way too handsome face back to me, I snap inside. My body heating in places I have never had it heat, tingles low down around there and suddenly I’m breathless and reeling, and yup, about to have the most god-awful panic attack.

What in the actual fuck?

“Nothing; I think you should go ... I don’t feel well, and I need to lie down.” I stammer, trying to cool my body and calm my breathing from this hormonal overdrive that has erupted inside me, but his gaze only narrows at me. Heat creeping up my face, my hands shaking, and I just need him to move, like five feet backwards to let me breathe.

“Why are you lying to me? You never lie to me.” Arrick looks wounded, moving a step closer as he scrutinizes my face, but all I can do is stop him with a flat palm to his chest. I can’t have him touching me, not anymore.

I really am losing the plot.

“I can’t, please don’t make me.” The sob catches in my throat and my eyes fill with moisture, desperately fighting myself internally and wracked with extreme confusion.

“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.” He half smiles, half frowns with the question, looking down at the splayed hand on his chest and slides it away, by covering my fingers in his and yanking me towards him. “Stop being weird and come here.” He laughs, shaking his head at me and moves to pull me closer, his other hand hooking onto the belt loop at my waist, tugging my pelvis into his groin with a gentle thud. This one little innocent act sends me completely over the edge.

“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!” I blurt it out as panic envelops me and I experience extreme verbal diarrhea, rambling like an insane person as his body molds to mine a little too well. Hysteria catches as I try like crazy to twist myself away from him and separate us from this intimate position.

“What are you talking about? I love you too, Sophs. Touch you in what way?” He’s still trying to angle me in for a hug, completely oblivious that I’m trying like mad to keep parts of his anatomy well away from malfunctioning parts of mine, and seems to think I am probably just struggling because I am still pissed at him. I duck out under his arm and hightail it to my bedside table, breathing hard as tears start falling down my face in utter frustration.

“Sophs, what the hell?” He turns with a smile, but on seeing my tears, stops in his tracks, a concerned frown overtaking those beautiful features. “What is it, Mimmo? Are you really this upset with me? I’m sorry, you know I can be narky sometimes, but it doesn’t mean anything. I didn’t mean anything I said. I’m an asshole.” He moves towards me, but I hold up shaky palms in complete soul-destroying desperation. Panic sweeping me fully.

“I love you.” I almost spell it out to him because I have to, slowly and firmly, voice trembling painfully, raising my eyebrows as I say it carefully, while looking him dead in the eye. I don’t know how else I can make this clear, while still trying to come to terms with it myself. This isn’t something I’m accustomed to, and never thought I would ever be saying it to anyone in this way, let alone him.

“Okay.... You said that ....” Arrick stops after two steps, almost as though something registers mid-stride and his face falls instantly. He seems to take a moment to think, that frown crossing his beautiful face and the slight tense look he gives me. Instant stiffening of his body that says he just clicked. “By love? … Sophs … What do you mean?” A hint of panic washes over his normally tanned skin, lightening to a paler hue as something ripples through that sharp brain.

I guess he definitely got it.

“I’m sorry, Arry, I didn’t mean to. It’s not like I meant for things to change... It … it just happened.” My hands fall by my side, tears falling freely as Arrick catches up with what I am trying to say, rambling like a crazy weirdo. I feel ashamed, and I have no idea why. Every part of my body is responding in new ways and I can’t understand how that even works.

The brain really screws up everything.

“You don’t love me like that, Sophs, you don’t know what you’re saying. This is stupid, you’re confused.” He’s completely shellshocked, color instantly draining from his face, and all hints of playful are replaced with disbelief. Arrick seems to be handling this almost as badly as I did in Emma’s kitchen. His normally cool and calm composure slips uncontrollably as his voice trembles. He seems like he isn’t sure how he should behave and really struggles to stand at peace. His hands mid-air, grasping at nothing as though looking for words in between us.

“Arry?” I reach out to him this time, alarmed by the ashen expression on his face and the way he’s frowning, his head obviously running at a hundred miles an hour to process what I have actually said. I step forward, but he’s the one to move back this time. Lifting fingers to hold me still and telling me to wait. He looks like he needs to sit down, badly. The pale skin has gotten decidedly paler, and he seems a little unsteady on his feet. Meanwhile, my heart is crashing around in my chest, undecided if it’s going for nervous, scared, terrified or heartbroken.

Seems everyone up here in this room is as confused as hell, and no one knows how to react.

“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.”

Touché. Great minds and all that.