Wildfire - H.S

53

However, there is a small part of me that I'm doing my best to ignore because it's screaming at me that once Evie finds out, she won't speak to me. Like, ever again.

That really would be my worst nightmare come to life.

Finally, after a brisk walk, I look up to recognize the street from last night after Esme's get together.

It's so weird how I was here no more than twelve hours ago and yet it manages to feel like a lifetime has passed.

The seconds disappear and time becomes distorted as my only focus is reaching the slick black door to the bar and I don't think twice before banging my fist against the painted wood - hard enough to leave a bruise.

The small windows rattle with each hard knock of my fist and I take a break in hopes to hear someone moving around on the other side of the door - but there's nothing but silence.

I stumble backwards, shading my eyes from the sun as I look up and around the rest of the building in hopes to find someone inside who can help me out.

Around the back of the building I find another door labelled something or other about employees only but it doesn't stop me from knocking excessively on that door too.

I just need her ribbon.

"Mate, I didn't open the front for a reason. It's not even seven, go home." The door swings open with a creak to reveal a young man who looks vaguely familiar from behind the bar last night.

"No, look you don't understand. I was here last night and I accidently left something. I need it back. Please." The emotion straining through my voice is undeniable and whom I presume is the owner can clearly see the desperation plastered on my face because he waves me through into the back of the building.

He nods his head for me to follow him, weaving my way through a tightly spaced kitchen and as he walks behind the bar, I head around the other side as though I'm just another customer ordering a pint.

Oh. For life to be that simple again.

From somewhere hidden behind the bar he pulls out a small wooden crate filled with miscellaneous items and immediately my eyes hopelessly scan through the visible items.

"You can imagine, working in a bar in the city, we get some obscure things in the lost and found." He chuckles as he places the crate onto the oak countertop, sliding it slowly over to me.

"Yea, I bet." I force a laugh in an attempt to continue the small talk with the hope of not coming off as rude, but my anxiousness has me rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet with the itching feeling of pulling my hair out.

"I have plenty of watches, phones, wallets, pink handcuffs and so on. Take your pick." He turns his back to me, sorting something else out while I rummage through the box, my heart rate rapidly increasing with each second I don't see the ribbon.

The pounding in my ears seems so incredibly loud I'm almost surprised he can't hear it.

It can't have been more than a few seconds of looking, but the drag of each tick of the clock up on the wall felt like alarm bells.

Until I saw it.

The thin piece of red material with the slightly frayed edges and my love note scribbled on the inside of the ribbon.

Relief crashes through me like waves against the shore in a storm as the dainty red fabric rests on my open palm.

As of right now, nothing in the world could be more important than this little ribbon.