Verity [ON HOLD]

Chapter 12

V E R I T Y

KADE BISHOP

I'd been drunk off my head too many times in my lifetime for the occasions to be recalled. There are faint memories, most of which were accounted by Ethan the day or two after my unruly nights of freedom, that's helped me recollect whatever leftover reminders I had in me. There were hardly any, and that was always okay- a shove to the shoulder and a laugh from the lips told anyone what they needed to know; I didn't care. I wouldn't, in fact, prior me firmly believed; up until three months ago happened and the woman standing before me ran into my life like a hurricane I never knew I'd beg for.

Quitting the alcohol and swearing off the drugs felt like nothing at the time. Visits to a clinic and chewing gum like my life depended on it felt like that was all there was to my life; it was consuming me whole, and on the nights after I'd unapologetically stalked the accounts of her and laid numbly on my bed, I contemplated whether it was all worth it. Did I want to spend my entirety chasing over someone who no longer felt the same?

I left the question unanswered, and for a while, I didn't think I'd ever find my conclusion.

And then Ivy-Reese blinked up at me in the car and stumbled over her words, and suddenly, all my problems had been solved. Nothing was left unsaid and it is my eyes that greedily take in her appearance that brought me to my truth- I would chase her, like a fool at that, until I absolutely couldn't anymore. And it isn't because she looks good enough to devour; it's her eyes, the way they hold nothing but undeserved love, and her heart; warm and open and far beyond what I deserve.

I don't deserve it, or her, to be completely frank. I realised that the second she pulled open her door an hour after retrieving inside and pulling me inside her home without a first doubt. Ivy-Reese would always be too good- but it's my unforgiving greed and unrelenting stubbornness that makes me subconsciously stand up taller as an intoxicated bystander stumbles his way to her side and topples her almost over.

"Hey," he's slurring his words and his eyes have a ring of red I'd always be too familiar with. Ivy smiles, a short one at that but one nonetheless; and that's all the man needs to continue, "what's a pretty bird like you doing here alone? Want to keep me and my friends some company?"

It's the obvious stature of my build and our close proximity that has me staring him down without a hinder of remorse, but of course, my lips are sealed shut until Ivy pleads an out. "No, thank you," she replies, shaking her head, "I'm fine right here." Her next attempt at calling the bartender is a clear escape out of the conversation and a clear rejection to his advances. The man is too out of his mind to comprehend the signs, and staring at him makes me see the bigger problem.

Ivy doesn't care. She's acting like it, at least, with a blank look on her face as she asks for a Sprite and leans patiently over the counter for her order. "Come on," he pushes, "don't be like that." It's the way she's acting as if nothing in the world is out of the ordinary that truly gets me going. This is a normal occurrence for her, I comprehend, and it's that
realisation that I take my own cues and make myself known behind her with a less than impressed look.

"Look, man," I start off friendly, "She's clearly not interested."

"Who the hell are you, asshole?"

"Just go away," my head is shaking on its own accord, "there's not much else I can tell you other than the fact that she's not interested. Get that in your head and leave."