Eighty Days of Heartache

the thirty-eighth day;

THE THIRTY—EIGHTH DAY;

"I'M SORRY," IVY says, her face placid and unmoving as she stands beside my car, her mouth twisted as if apologising hurts her deep down. Blowing out a stem of breath, she looks at me; stares to my very core.

I nod, licking my lips and pulling my keys out of the ignition. We stare at each other for a moment, and all I can think of is how I really do not want her to sit in my car.

She can't see the leather jacket respectively folded on the chair beside me, making my seats smell distinctively of Chanel Bleu.

"Apology accepted," crookedly I smile, watching as Ivy's mouth tilts into a lopsided smile — and miraculously, the cracks in our friendship disappear. "You were just telling me your opinion," I whisper softly, opening my car door and jumping out to give her a hug.

"But my opinion stank," chortling softly in my ear, Ivy digs her chin unintentionally into my shoulder as she returns my bear hug.

Sighing, I hold her tightly and close my eyes, happy that the pair of us are getting along once more. "You had valid points," I admit, a ghost of a smile appearing on my face.

Don't notice the leather jacket.

"Did you still go to Apple Jack's yesterday?"

Don't notice. The leather jacket.

"Yeah... nothing happened."

Don't. Notice. The. Leather. Jacket.

"Shit— now I feel bad for abandoning you," Ivy whines, pulling away from our hug and placing her hands on my shoulders; our eyes locked as she gives my tense muscles a competing squeeze.

A wave relief slams into me, and I breathe out lowly as a shaky smile graces my lips. With my fingertips, I fiddle. "It's fine, I enjoyed the peace and quiet," the enamel of my teeth is starting to erode with the amount of damage lying does to them.

I'm constantly lying through the back of my teeth, and I can feel my jaw ache and tense at my false words.

"Only if you're sure," shaking her head, the black locks of Ivy's hair deter her vision from me, and towards the school entrance. "C'mon, lunch is on me today... just don't ask me to buy you some of the canteens mouldy chicken and mayo sandwich. I'm still vegan. And the funding of this schools canteen, alongside animal cruelty, is a crime."

Laughing at her antics, I lock my car and find myself grinning widely, as we approach the school in large and happy strides. My shoulders relax as Ivy winds her arm around them.

She didn't notice the jacket.

➖➖➖

THREE HOURS LATER, and I'm sitting in the canteen clenching my stomach; and not because Ivy brought me a strawberry and cashew salad. No, I'm clenching my stomach to try and calm my spasming—with—anxiety muscles.

Nero sits the other side of the canteen, his gaze heated yet somehow cold as he looks over to me. The pair of us hold eye contact, yet neither of us try to make an effort to apologise. I don't rise from my seat, and neither does he. We are happy arms lengths away from each other.