Chapter 4

Ivy's POV

Rule number one: Do not fall to alcoholism when you just got your heart broken, you might end up calling the person who broke your heart, or worse, you might call someone else and say embarrassing things to them.

On my path, I called my best friend, Zela, the moment I came back home in shambles after Dante had announced his new girlfriend on international TV.

Zela, being aware of my crush on Dante, took the first flight out of her city when she saw the news being broadcast live, and two hours after I got home she was banging on my door.

“Here, have this, it will help with the headache.” She passed me a cup of egg yolk.

“Breakfast would be ready too in like thirty minutes, so get ready, take your bath, and look alive, my sweet, sweet Ivy.” She pinched my cheeks.

“I don’t want to go! I don’t want to do anything today, Zel. I just want to stay here all day snuggling with Mr. Puddle.” Mr. Puddle was my cat, who had unfortunately been straddled in my arms all night while I cried into his fur.

Now he was just disgusted by me and decided being far from me was best for his mental health.

So much for emotional support.

“No! You have to be in Spain in four hours, and you need to look alive.” She urged.

My back sagged against the chair. Every year for four years Dante and I had visited the Solano estate, where parties were hosted annually, mostly for one of the Solano brothers based on who won that season.

For four years each party was hosted for Voss because he had been on a winning streak, one award after the other, and I had to go because Dante insisted that I stayed by his side to act as emotional support, and whisper in his ear that his brother's success didn’t make him a bad footballer.

This year, of course, was different because he won and he was the main character, and out of everyone else I should be there with him celebrating because I am his best friend.

“I don’t want to go, Zel, my heart aches too much.” I said, but I knew even I couldn’t help it.

Dante wasn’t the one at fault here. I was the one who overestimated my place in his life. I was the one who thought his friendliness meant he was head over heels in love with me.

But I forgot the second rule: if a boy treats you like he doesn’t want you, it’s solely because he doesn’t want you.

This isn’t middle school where bullies are seen as lovers.

If a boy doesn’t approach you and profess his feelings to you, it’s solely because he doesn’t have them or he doesn’t want to, not because he’s shy and wants you to take the first step.

“Damn it, Zel, how could I? Ahh, I feel so stupid. I feel so cringe! Like, how could I be so dumb?”

“Love is blind, baby!” Zel yelled from the kitchen.

“Well it’s apparently brain torture because it made me dumb too.” I took the cup of yolk and gulped it down, my face contorting in sheer disgust and irritation.

Heartbroken or not, I have to be on that plane, and I have to be there looking bright and put together because Dante can’t see me looking like Dracula while his pristine girlfriend looks perfect.

Zel had taken the liberty to do her little FBI moves on the lady Dante professed his undying love to.

Solange Carter, daughter of Coach Bass, the coach of Nightingale, and once again I should have seen it coming.

Dante had been oddly friendly with the coach, and he had told me to make sure no one saw him crossing over or being friendly with the coach, and I just thought maybe he wanted to keep his alliance with other clubs a secret, but no! He wanted me to keep it a secret because he was dating the coach's daughter and didn’t want people prying into it.

Damn it, I am so stupid! So, so stupid.

“Plane leaves in two hours. I have your bath ready, Ivy. Go and shower and stop sulking! It wouldn’t help!”

Memories of Dante telling me that the only reason he even showed her to me was because he wanted me to do my job by making sure she was spotless and out of the paparazzi's claws made me cringe again.

Stupid!

---

About an hour passed and I dressed up. I no longer looked like I lacked blood or the warmth of the sun, all thanks to none other than Zel, who had taken it upon herself to add some more color to my cheeks.

“You look purr-fect!” She slurred.

“Thank you. You are the best.” I pulled her into a hug.

“I have to go now, alright?” Pulling away, I kissed her forehead.

“Text me before you board the plane and breathe. You are not a fool, you were just in love.” She said.

I smiled weakly at her, then took my luggage and left the building, while trying to tell myself it’s only going to be three days.

And how hard could it be? I mean, it’s not my first heartbreak, and besides I can’t mourn a relationship I never had, now can I? Everything I ever imagined with Dante was all imaginary.

The kisses, the hugs, the sex, it was all in my head, and just like yesterday confirmed, I was just a PR manager, a member of his ‘team,’ so I took my phone and texted him.

*Dante, I am on my way to the airport, are you there yet?* It ticked twice, but he didn’t respond for a solid ten minutes.

All I could think about was, what if he was face-deep in Solange? That was why he ignored my message. They were obviously having sex or talking.

I finally arrived at the airport. Dante didn’t respond, which wouldn’t have made me panic because I would see him at the airport regardless, but instead when I arrived at the airport his jet wasn’t there.

I panicked, then sent him another message.

*Dante, where in God's green earth are you!!!* It double-ticked. He was supposed to be here, or are we taking another plane? If we were flying public transport, then he must have both our tickets booked.

I came here two hours early. He’s supposed to be here, so I called him.

It instantly went to voicemail.

*Dante, I am panicking. Can you at least tell me you are fine? And why is your jet not here? Was there a change of plan I am not aware of?* I hit send, then turned around just to see the most random person at the airport.

It was Voss Solano in all his glory. He had a little duffel bag in his hand, and an aviator glass resting on his nose. My heart palpitated as memories of last night resurfaced.

“Bloody hell...”