IVY
Whoever said change is as good as a vacation never had to answer the question “What can you bring to this role?” three thousand times. I swear, the whole process would be a lot easier if I could answer honestly.Can operate computer.Will trade labor for money.
Like, come on, what am I supposed to say? That life before this job opportunity was meaningless and now, wonderfully, I’ve found my true heart’s purpose?
I just want to buy eggs.
It probably should be concerning that when I hear a key in my front door, I don’t immediately call the authorities. Instead, I call out “over here” and smile as Lincoln approaches.
It doesn’t seem right that someone whose upper body should have its own judicial system can fit through a human-sized door or sit anywhere smaller than a throne.
We’ve taken to spending time together every day, and every unannounced visit warms my heart a little more. I thought it was just me he liked helping, but it’s not, is it? It’s everyone. Like he can’t help himself. Like he needs it, using his charm to discover exactly what people need and then being the guy who gifts it to them.
Mom would be absolutely horrified to know a man is helping himself into my apartment, but I find it soothing. No matter what I might need him for, I know Lincoln wouldn’t hesitate to get to me.
It’s a level of devotion I’ve never had before, and I’m struggling to not get too used to it.
“A little late for spring cleaning, isn’t it? Or is this a new design trend I’m not aware of?”
I look up from where I’m swimming under a pool of clothes. “I felt like a change.”
More like I felt like shedding the rest of my cocoon.
I’ve spent years keeping the odd parts of myself stuffed into a back room, mementos of youth packed away with a school uniform and an affinity for happy squeals. God, there was a time I used to literally jump for joy.
It’s the dress I bought on a whim and have never had a reason to wear. The patent pink stilettos from three fashion cycles ago that I’m too terrified to wear out because someone will clock that I’m not “with the times” but I can’t bring myself to throw away because I’ve never worn them. It’s the costume jewelry I bought for myself with my first paycheck that now sits, tangled and buried at the bottom of a shoebox.
Breadcrumbs of a person I want to be but have never dared.
“Evidently. Can I help? I have some experience rescuing maidens.”
There’s no fighting the blush that floods my cheeks, but I aim a tiny glare at him anyway. Lincoln grins back.
“These pants or this skirt?” I hold up the items for his scrutiny. I can’t explain it, but I woke up this morning, took one look at my wardrobe, and didn’t want to see anything in there that wasn’t me anymore.
I don’t care whether it’s a Canadian tuxedo or a plaid maxi castoff from a Stevie Nicks impersonator. If it’s got flair, I want it. I’ll wear it. Fil’s philosophy is that clothes transform, and I’ve seen Villainina come to life in drag. My wardrobe needs to express who I am. Who I want to be.
Bright or seductive or ethereal. Cozy or focused or ready for anything. Maybe that’s why deciding is so difficult. I want too much. I want it all.
Loud florals; mismatched sets; soft, off-the-shoulder sweaters in deep, ominous colors. Shoes I can dance in, just in case the situation arises. Finishing touches on finishing touches.
But none of that fit with serious Ivy. Button-down shirts and business pants and action items never left any room for whimsy.
Somewhere along the line, I started to resent that.
“Actually,” I say, throwing both onto the scrap pile, “never mind.”
Usually, after the big hair change, the lead’s life gets better. Me? I’m still confused. I’m just hotter now.
“Glad I could be of assistance,” Lincoln jokes, crouching down to pluck a yellow summer dress from the pile. It’s soft and floaty, with ties on the shoulders, and never fails to make me feel amazing. “Funny, I have this exact same one in blue.”
“Give me that,” I laugh, taking it from him and placing it firmly inKeep. “You’re supposed to help me work out what to get rid of.”
His smile curls just so, and my body shivers. “In that case, you can start with everything you’re wearing right now.”
Christ. There’s nothing I want more.
Apart from the roguish smile, he’s wearing olive dress pants and a white collared shirt with flowers embroidered along the buttons. It makes his skin glow golden.
