"We only said goodbye with words. I died a hundred times"
Beep beep.
Fücking hell, my head. Groggily, I lift my head to better view my surroundings, squinting to block out the harshness of the sun's rays. Immediately, I realise I'm on the opposite end of my bed, fully clothed, and I can just smell the stench of alcohol emanating from my pores.
How much did I drink last night?
Getting up slowly, my body aches from the drunken injuries I've probably obtained whilst clumsily walking into furniture, and I reach blindly around my body for my phone.
4:12pm.
Christ, how long have I been sleeping for?
That's not the only thing I notice from the home screen. It appears that I have a message from an unrecognisable number.
Suddenly, everything comes flooding back. The phone call - to him. I called Harry, and despite not being able to speak to him, I felt compelled to stay on the line to him. I felt drawn in, and despite no words being exchanged, it was one of the most intimate moments I've encountered. That is until it ended.
I read over the text until I'm satisfied that I can take nothing more from it. I mean, surely it wouldn't be him? But it could be.
Dialling the number, I listen in a state of dread for the moment the other person picks up, and when it finally answers, a woman speaks.
"Hello?"
It's funny how one word can have the power to deflate any and all hope you had for something you were un-admittedly yearning for.
Saying nothing, I stay on the line, waiting for the person's identity to be revealed.
"Listen here you scumbag - I don't want any part in the sick little games-"
"Maxie?" I question, recognising her voice.
"Oh my God, you scared me there, Ivory," she laughs, and I literally hear the sigh of relief.
"You too, Maxine," I reply back, taunting her in return for calling me by my full name.
"Yeah, let's not play this game," she replies. "But I wanted to call you to ask you to an event tonight. Interested?"
"I don't know..." I reply, not sounding overly sure of my decision. "What kind of event?"
Sighing, she answers, slightly frustrated by my half hearted response.
"Oh, I don't know. Some rich bítch is promoting her perfume range or skincare line. Who even fücking cares, but there's going to be free booze. Come with - you owe me for bailing on me last night."
"You had me at free booze," I laugh. "Where is it by the way?"
"A little club called Mahiki over in Mayfair. Surely you must've heard of it."
"Yeah, it rings a bell," I admit. "So shall we meet there?"
"No, I'll come to your house before hand, so text me your address bítch!"
With that she hangs up, leaving me to process if that conversation even happened. I sit here in my half asleep daze, fumbling over the phone keyboard as I type out my address.
As I hit send, a sense of inexplicable dread runs through my body, and something inside of me urges me to decline. I almost rattle my brain, thinking of a reason for me not to attend, but shake the feelings off.
No, it'll be good to get out of the house.
"Where do you keep your vodka?" Maxie calls out, as I brush my teeth, careful not to smudge my lipstick.
I reply, but the words that come out of my mouth are unintelligible while my mouth is full of toothpaste.
The sound of her heels giving her away that she's approaching, she gives me a funny look.
"Yeah, I'm going to need you to repeat that again," she laughs.
Spitting the toothpaste into the sink, I answer.
"Freezer," I answer, fixing my lipstick with the corner of my pinky finger.
There's some bustling sounds of her as bumbles around in the freezer.
"Got it!" she announces. "How many shots are we starting out with?"
"Uh... two each?" I suggest.
Giving me a stone cold stare, as though I suggested instead we host a bible study group, she shakes her head.
"No, that's not good enough. We'll start with three double shots."
"Maxie!" I exclaim, shocked that she would start so high.
"Do you want to have a boringly depressing night, or do you want to live?"
Somehow I feel that the question is much more profound than she ever intended, but it does make me think.
Gulping, I answer.
"I want to live."
How could I have predicted that mere hours later, I'd want to die.
"Is this the place?" I laugh, stumbling out of the taxi. With my head spinning, I lower myself closer onto the floor, so everything stops moving and I make sense of the world.
"Babe, get up. You'll ruin your outfit!" Maxie encourages, pulling me up. "Oh look," she giggles, pointing over to paparazzi waiting by the entrance of Mahiki. The men haven't seen us yet, too focused on who's coming out, rather than who is going in.
I slur out a string of nonsense, aware I'm not making any sense, and yet not in any state to control myself.
Pulling me by the arm, she leads me straight to the front of the building, walking confidently by the lingering paparazzi.
"Excuse me, can't myself, Maxie Wilde and Ivory Oakes walk into the club without being accosted by the likes of you all!" she laughs, throwing her head back wildly as she does so. "Here, smile Ivory," she instructs, though my head feels quite heavy.
This can't be good for me.
Whispering into my ear, she mumbles, "Imagine how your ex is going to feel when he sees these photos in the papers!" she laughs, striking another pose.
Giggling, I join her in with the exaggerated poses, knowing that a clearly intoxicated model parading about is surely going to make it to page 6, and perhaps he will see me and notice me.
Laughing, we both stride over to the security, and upon arrival we're stopped.
"Name," the burly security man asks.
"Well..." Maxie begins, in the voice one uses if you're about to tell a story. "You might not find my name on the list if I'm being honest here you... strapping lad. But surely you recognise Miss Ivory Oakes," she gushes, in that same tone she used back with the paparazzi.
"Right through," he allows, opening the velvet rope to us. "The VIP section is through to the back. Enjoy your night ladies."
Walking through, I'm almost a little taken aback by the interior decor. I mean, I was expecting some kind of swanky modern club, and instead it's an upscale tiki lounge. People are drinking from cool, Hawaiian style drinking glasses, and seated at tables and chairs made of wicker.
"This is amazing!" I exclaim, feeling the bass of the music pumping through my chest. "Let's dance!"
"I thought you said you don't dance," she asks, looking quite skeptical of my sudden suggestion.
"I only dance when I'm drunk," I laugh, pulling her onto the floor.
I feel myself getting lost in the moment, swaying to the music in time. With the alcohol flowing through my bloodstream, I lose any sense of self consciousness, confident in my movements. Maxie pulls me in close, spinning me around before whispering in my ear.
"That babe over there can't keep his eyes off you," she purrs, giggling. "The guy in the suit."
Turning around, I'm genuinely surprised when I see it's Vic that's standing there, now locked eyes with me.
"Oh my God, I know him!" I exclaim. "We've shared a snog."
"The ex?," she exclaims excitedly, doing a double take.
"No, he's the one who kissed me on holiday," I sigh, exasperated with having to clarify. Looking back at him, he strides over, walking over to us both.
"Oh my God, I just realised it's Vic Croft," she gasps, experiencing a lightbulb moment. "And he's coming over here right now!"
"Oh my God, I need a drink," I laugh, and after the words leave my mouth, I feel Vic's hand on my hip. Turning around to greet him, I kiss him twice on the cheek, noticing how he turns his cheek ever so slightly so that on the second kiss, I kiss the side of his mouth.
"You're bad!" I laugh, pointing my finger at him. "This is Maxie," I shout in his ear, trying to be heard over the blaring music.
"Lovely to meet you Maxie. Did I hear correctly in that you girls wanted a drink?" he checks, and I nod. Excusing himself, he walks in the direction of the bar, with intentions of getting us drinks.
"Fücking hell, what a man," she exclaims. "I'm picking up major 007 vibes."
I see her eyes following him through the room, glancing back at him, as she adjusts her dress so that her cleavage is more pronounced. She definitely has eyes for him.
"Yeah, but he used to be a coke head," I blurt.
Eyes widening, she almost looks more intrigued by the idea that he was into coke.
"That's exactly what this night needs," she exclaims excitedly, grabbing onto my arm. "Ask him if he has any on him!"
"No!" I laugh, both intimidated and intrigued by the prospect that we could be doing cöcaine. I mean, everyone in the industry does it. Well, most people anyways. What would be the harm in trying it once?
"I'm going to the bathroom," she announces, "but you stay here and mind our spot!"
Nodding, I continue dancing on my own, feeling as free as I've ever been. I'm in the prime of my life and should be spending my nights like this, and not crying about some ex who doesn't give a shít about me.
"Hello again," Vic whispers into my ear from behind me, his chin rested on my shoulder. I get goosebumps as he dances behind me, his arms enveloping me as he passes me the drink.
"Thank you!" I shout, taking a sip as we lock eyes, the connection strong. "Perhaps the night would be better with something a little stronger," I suggest, hoping he receives the inferred message.
Quizzically, he gives me a puzzled expression, not quite sure of the girl who's now standing before him.
"Are you serious?" he questions, seeming slightly taken aback.
Nodding, I continue dancing, pulling him in closer.
"Did your friend put you up to this. You know she's bad news right?"
"And what does that make you?" I ask, without skipping a beat.
Cocking his head, he tries to understand who exactly it is that I am, completely challenging every rule I set in place for myself.
"But I thought you weren't that girl," he mentions, referring to a line I told him months ago.
Pulling him in by his tie, I kiss him, giving him exactly what he's wanted all this time. It almost takes him a few seconds to register exactly what has happened, but I feel him melting, and with intense passion, he kisses me back with a sense of ferocity that almost scares me.
"Where has this come from?" he mutters, his hands still holding onto my face.
Shrugging, I excuse myself after finishing the last of my drink, and head towards the bar. Vic follows, but I stop him from going any further.
"Wait here, Maxie will be back in a sec," I order.
"Ivory what are you doing with her? You know she's using you right?" he yells, and I pretend that I don't hear him as I continue walking away from him.
It's none of his business who I hang out with. Maxie is fun, and wild, and everything that I want to be at this stage of my life. I'm sick of moping about, and being so hung up on a past love. Instead of moving forward, I'm stagnant, watching everyone around me couple up, while I remain devastatingly alone.
Leaning on the bar, I start to feel my eyelids becoming heavier and heavier, and it suddenly seems like the perfect place to rest my eyes.
"Excuse me, you can't just sleep on my bar," a man with a hipster beard and bow tie addresses me, tapping me on my shoulder.
"What?" I question, still quite out of it. "Look, I just want a drink. Something fruity and sweet please and thank you."
Shaking his head, he gives me a look that he's not having the greatest night, and he doesn't seem the type you'd argue with.
"I think you've had enough tonight," he decides, grabbing a clean glass, he fills it with water, handing it to me. "Here, free of charge."
He moves onto another customer while I stand here, quite enraged by the fact that he won't serve me - a paying customer. I'm fine. I can handle myself. I'm like tipsy at best.
Sighing, I look to the mirror against the bar, aiming to fix my hair before I realise it isn't a mirror, and that there are people on the opposite side, facing me. All the faces are blurred despite my best efforts to focus on them.
The room continues spinning, and when it finally stops, one person's face becomes more defined, above all the rest. Immersed in conversation with a man, he just goes about his life exactly like I thought he would. To see him here in person is absolutely torturous, and yet I can't seem to move as my feet are rooted in place. With a devilish grin, he laughs at a joke that his friend has said, completely unaware that I even exist, because I don't anymore. Not in his eyes.
"Are you just going to stand there all day, or are you gonna order something?" a rude girl yells, directing her frustration out on me.
With that, Harry looks over, and by the expression on his face, he certainly wasn't expecting to run into me like this. Stunned and open-mouthed, he seems to be just as shocked as I was in seeing him, and my feet feel rooted in place. Even shocked, he's still as profoundly handsome as always, and for a second, it's like it used to be.
What do I do?
Standing right before me is the man who made my world, and then without warning, took it right back. Harry, returning his attention momentarily on the person he's there with, places his hand on the man's forearm, whilst looking at me, and excuses himself. A wave of emotions run through me, and I feel a pull towards him, wanting desperately to fight my way through all these people in hopes of reaching him.
But I can't.
Looking back up, he politely apologises as he walks through the throngs of people, towards me rather than away from me. His eyes seem melancholy, and the urge to run over to him is dire. To feel the softness of his skin, and his light kisses all over my body are enough to fix the broken girl that I've now become.
Even though it was he that broke me.
He's metres away from me, and it's then and only then that my instincts take over. Pushing through the crowds of people, I move away from him, and instead towards the bathroom. I don't even check to see if it's the ladies room first, I don't even care, I just need to get away from him. I need to get away from everything.
How could he do this to me?
Pushing through to the only empty stall littered with empty tampon wrappers droplets of only God knows what on the floor, I fall to my knees, as I vomit my stomach's contents into the bowl. Heave after heave, and it truly never ends.
When the vomiting stops, I look up at the graffitied walls littered with peoples' numbers and profanity, until one scrawling in particular catches my eye.
'What are you doing?'
What am I doing? I'm sitting here on my hands and knees in the grimiest bathroom, vomiting more than I thought was humanly possible, and running away from someone who I thought would change my life. It turns out that he did, only in the worst ways imaginable. My body aches with sadness, and it's the kind of pain that makes me wish that I'd never experienced this kind of love to begin with. How could I possibly settle down with someone nice, and be content, when I know of a love that transcends all others.
My phone vibrates, and taking it out of my purse, it drops to the floor, the already smashed screen in a more sorry state. Right away I recognise the number. Despite deleting it from my phone, there's some things that you'll never forget.
'I understand'
Two words that are agonising to read, and yet I read them over and over, expecting something from it, yet knowing that this is all he can offer me. After everything I gave him, all he could give me is just that. Understanding.
Hell is a lot colder than I thought it would be.
Author's Note: This one was EXTREMELY difficult to write, considering that Harry and Ivory have come face to face after all this time. How did you interpret their interactions, as well as Ivy running away. Why do you think she ran, and should she have stayed? Also, what are your thoughts on Maxie or Vic?
This dedication goes to LoveTheDirection19 for the wonderful comment which I've included below! All I can tell you about Harry paying the paps off is that it does involve Ivy, but you'll find out exactly what for in later chapters!
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11/08/17 | 1.21M Views |
The lyrical quote at the beginning of the chapter originated from the song 'Back to Black' by Amy Winehouse