Fuck. Am I planning? The word feels weird just thinking about it.
A goner. I’m a goner. I’m also a fucking coward.
I need to do something. Talk to her. See her. Touch her.
Closing my laptop, I head for the elevator. I call a staff member who lives close to my place and see if they can walk and feed Slate tonight. Just in case.
The minute I make it to the lobby, I lose all my nerve. I thought I’d go to her room, knock on the door, and see if she wanted to do something. Instead, I practically run into my office and shut the door.
Now I’m sitting at the end of the bar. You’d only see me if you walked into the restaurant and were specifically looking for me.
Something I love about this place is that when I want a drink, the bartenders pour and leave me alone. They never judge me—at least not to my face—and make sure the glass is full. To show my appreciation, I leave substantial tips even though they’re on my payroll.
Having a couple of drinks while you’re exhausted and dealing with heavy feelings is always the best way to cope. Said no one ever. I know this is a horrible fucking idea but I have no other moves.
Bourbon never lets me down.
I throw back the last of my third old fashioned. The cherries sit at the bottom of the rocks glass. Dark red. The color of Ivy’s lips the first time I met her.
She’s everywhere.
Before I can change my mind, or it gets way too late, I take the elevator to the sixth floor. I can’t get to her door fast enough but when I reach it, I stop. My fist, ready to knock, is a few inches from the door and I know if someone saw me, they would have questions.
I take in a breath and pretend my hand isn’t shaking. I’m fucking nervous. But something Vivian said comes roaring back, “you’re not fooling me… she’s totally worth it.” Like I didn’t know it already. Sometimes you need someone to say something you’ve been thinking for it to actually be a thing.
Only a door separates me and the woman I can’t stop thinking about. I breathe out and knock. I hear Ivy move around before coming to the door. It takes everything in me to keep my feet planted and not bolt.
She opens the door and smiles when she sees it’s me.
I’m a fucking goner.
“Holland. What are you doing here?” The sound of excitement in her voice relaxes me. Or makes it to where I’m not concerned about my heart rate.
What am I doing here? I didn’t think this through. Her eyes lock on mine.
“I… ugh… have to tell you something.” I sound so unconvincing.
“Okay.” She waits patiently. “What is it?”
Fuck. There is so much I want to say. Where do I start? Do I tell her how often she’s on my mind? Or how she’s the first person who makes me question what my future looks like? Or the way she makes me feel like I’m part of something?
“Holland,” Ivy says, her voice low, as she reaches for my hand. She squeezes my fingers with her own.
I don’t know if I can tell her. I could try toshowher.
I step forward, put my hands in her hair, and my lips on hers.
The second I feel her kissing me back, those perfect lips and tongue on mine, I nudge her into her room. My hands find the wall, on each side of Ivy’s face. She tilts her chin up and I dip down to be level with her.
Fuck. I dreamt of those green eyes.
When the door shuts, I pull away for a second.
“I can’t get enough of you.” I barely get the words out before I kiss her again.
She smiles under my lips and it’s like I can fly.
“You’re all I can think about,” I confess.
