“I believe you. I know you. Stubborn and headstrong and sometimes stupidly impulsive, but when you make a decision, Sophie, it is pretty hard to sway you at all. If you’re telling me that this ends here, tonight, that you want to go home and sort yourself out, then I’m with you. I believe you. I know you would never tell me just what I want to hear.” He glances across my face, letting go of my hand so he can brush my hair back and tucks it behind my ear tenderly, still close enough to breathe me in and I impulsively lean my head back against his shoulder.
“I’m tired. I just want to think about one step at a time and let it all go. Let the pieces start falling into place tomorrow.” I sigh pleadingly, fully fatigued as waves of exhaustion flow over me to remind me how dead on my feet I am and curl my legs up under me to get comfy.
“How about we just make like we used to? Pizza, a movie, and chill on the couch for the rest of the night. No talk of this until the drive tomorrow, just you and me. Batman and Robin!” He slides his arm out of mine and around my shoulders instead, hugging me tightly before getting up and leaving me on the seat to flop against the back. He walks around the back of it and heads towards the coffee machine in the kitchen.
“I like your way of thinking, but I get to pick the movie.” I smile to myself, turning in the seat to use the backrest as a chin prop instead. Staring at his strong wide back and watch as he kicks off his shoes in the kitchen and pushes them under the breakfast bar with a foot. He throws me a pained expression.
“Unicorns are out! Chick flicks are a maybe if there is at least comedy, but no full-on soppy bull. I don’t think I can handle you crying your eyes out to another Channing Tatum movie while I have to sit and endure it.” Arrick pours us coffee, despite the machine not being finished and the smell fills the whole open-plan space warmly.
“His wife lost all memory of even knowing him, how did that not make you cry? It’s like if I woke up tomorrow and didn’t even know who you were. You would be desolate without my adoration!” I respond in outrage at his very clear inability to empathize with real tragedy. Arrick turns with a smirk, that hint of sarcasm in those wicked eyes.
“Remind me what would be bad about that!” He grins, obviously pleased with his witty come back, even when I try to throw a cushion across at him that barely reaches the entrance to the kitchen space.
“Asshole,” I pout, full-blown child mood making an appearance.
“Brat,” he responds in kind, with that usual title for me when we are being passive-aggressive in our behavior towards each another. I narrow my eyes threateningly and then sigh it away as I run a movie itinerary through my skull.
“Okay, what about The Princess Bride?” I blink at him hopefully. My love of retro classics is my only weakness, besides shoes and clothes that is … oh and sugar, and junk food. So, I may have a lot of vices besides old movies. Shoot me.
“You do know you are not an eighties kid, right? That your weird love of crazily old movies for someone so young is abnormal?” Arrick walks back to me carrying hot mugs and I turn to follow his progress when he gets back around beside me, moving to let him sit down and then curl back up close to him when he slides back. He runs his arm along the back of the chair over my head, so I have his armpit in my face. It’s just as well he always smells good.
“I hung about with an old man through my most important developmental years, and he must have rubbed off on me.” I throw back deadpan at him, met with a palm in the face which squashes my nose as he smears what’s left of my makeup further down with the motion.
“Hey!” I slap it away, that annoying person he can be starting to come out now all the emotional serious stuff is out of the way. This is the real him that I miss. The infuriating brother figure, annoyingly immature at times, despite his overall Mr. Mature. persona. That dude who holds me down and tickles me to death until I yield. The one who opened my world to a whole host of annoying behaviors and practical jokes at my expense.
“Less of the old … I happen to not even be in my prime yet.” He settles back and lifts his mug with his free hand before returning to the armpit in the face pose, taking a drink of coffee I know will be like tar. He takes his black, super strong and with no sugar; disgusting if you ask me. I like mine with cream and sweet, and he always makes it perfectly.
“Still getting on in years, soon be losing this, developing a man podge and wearing house slippers.” I pat his very firm and toned flat abdomen in jest with a raised brow of knowingness.
“You’re only five and a bit years younger than me, brat. Fairly sure the slippers and the food baby will happen to you long before it happens to me, seeing as you’re the one with a sugar addiction and an allergy to the gym.” He slides his mug back down, picks up the remote and starts scrolling Netflix. Focusing on the screen as he fast scans a whole list of favorites.
“I don’t need a gym; this is all natural.” I sit up on my knees and lean back, pushing out my poor attempt at a belly and rub it heartily. I have always been pretty lucky that I have an athletic shape and fast metabolism. Despite having a decent set of breasts on me, I have a pretty toned boyish body with a little extra curve on the ass. I guess all that dancing in high shoes and walking around the city every day has some perks.
Arrick looks up at me as I now tower over him with a flat expression and prods me in the stomach. I flinch and collapse back down with an ‘ooft’ noise and shove him in the shoulder in outrage. Focusing on the screen and list of movie icons the same way he is.
“Okay … I can tolerate either ‘The Dark Crystal’ or ‘Robin Hood, Men in Tights’. You choose.” He eyes me seriously; picking two movies from the list he has labeled ‘Sophie’s Crap’ saved to his TV because of me. I frown at the new caption on the list and give him an ‘I am not amused by that’ look that is met with a smirk and a shrug.
“Don’t even pretend that you’re not really angling for ‘The Dark Crystal’. We both know it’s secretly your favorite movie of all time!” I prod him in the cheek childishly, right in the place his dimple always appears, perfect bullseye and meet only a serious flat expression.
“Why do I even do this shit for you?” He sighs heavily and picks the movie, pressing a button with the remote held up before throwing it down on the couch next to him and reaching for a folded throw. He hands me the blanket and helps me spread it around myself, over my legs and feet.
“Because you love me, and you know what makes me happy.” I grin at him when I’m comfy and settled, curled up like a kid next to him and ready to find a landing place for my head somewhere on his body.
“Hmm.” He frowns back and checks his watch; the faint rumble of his stomach alerts me he’s checking how long before food gets here. I get that inner creep of guilt once more that he should have eaten by now. Not that it lasts long as I am also starving, and the thought of pizza has me already watering at the mouth.
“Don’t deny it. I’m like your most ‘favoritest’ person in the whole entire world, even when you’re really mad at me.” I poke him again and this time he catches my finger and sticks it in his mouth with a completely satisfied look on his face. I squeal in disgust, yank my hand back fast and start wiping his saliva on his shirt in a frenzy of cringe, screwing up my face as he grins at me smugly. He knows how much I hate that, it’s worse than when he sticks his finger in my ear or that one time, he licked my face, because I wouldn’t stop mimicking him.
“You’re disgusting.” I scold him and slap his shoulder hard enough to get a decent sounding ‘whap’ noise. He remains unmoved and doesn’t even acknowledge it. Mind you, with shoulders like his he doesn’t feel pain from girly little attempts of violence.
“Yet you love me because I’m like totally your most ‘favoritest’ person in the whole entire world.” He mimics me with a girly voice and fluttering lashes that earns him another poke in the face, although I am quick to get my hand out of the way when he makes a dive for it again.
“Shut up and let me watch my movie.” I pout childishly, ignoring him watching me with an utterly amused beam on his face. Obviously thinks he’s totally smart and so freaking funny, when really, he is about ten shades of annoying as shit at times.
“Move over then and lie down, so I can get behind you. If I must watch it, at least give me room to go to sleep until food arrives. You can wake me up when it gets here.” He shoves me so I fall sideways away from him, obediently moving to the front of the couch and stretch out straight so he can slide in at the back of me and mirror my pose. We both roll onto our sides to face the TV as he drapes his arm casually over my waist, pulling up the blanket over me, so I’m covered again, and he’s not. His breath in the back of my hair as the music starts rolling into the opening scenes, and we get comfy in the space, rolling into each other perfectly. No hint of any sense of fear or invasion, even when he’s spooning me this way.
“You are,” he utters softly behind my head and I smile. Knowing he’s answering my statement, even if I did say it in jest. That fluttering smile runs across my face and the tiny warming sensation in my stomach that happens anytime he’s being genuine, blooms.
“You’re such a loser,” I respond drily, curbing the urge to laugh. I shove my butt back to hit him in the groin childishly, then ‘SHHH’ him when he makes a noise. He just squeezes my waist with his arm and settles down to either sleep or watch this infernal show.
My film starts, but the heaviness of my eyelids tells me that I won’t see much of it.