Her eyes meet mine. I look away, forcing myself to relax. She's not mine.
Minutes later, Harlow reappears and when she hands the bottle to Ivy I almost want to take it and whisk Ivy away from them. "Your turn, Ava."
"Ivy." I say quietly.
"That’s what I said." I roll my eyes at Harlow as she scoffs and tries to make her skirt shorter. "Spin the bottle."
Ivy hesitates before moving to spin it.
I'm ashamed to admit how closely I watch that bottle.
The bottle slows.
Someone laughs.
Blake opens his mouth, says something stupid, someone responds and before I've consciously decided to do anything, I'm on my feet.
"I'll take her."
I don't give anyone time to argue. I grab the bottle, grab Ivy's hand, and pull her up before she can protest. Her fingers curl around mine instinctively and that alone almost does me in.
The room goes quiet as we move.
Good.
I want them quiet.
The closet door shuts behind us, plunging us into dim light and close air. It smells like perfume and dust and alcohol. My pulse is roaring in my ears.
Ivy presses back against the wall, eyes wide. "What are you doing?" she whispers. "You don't have to-"
I force myself to take a step back.
I have to.
"I'm not letting you practice with some random guy," I say, voice tight. Too tight. "I'd rather take the fallout than watch you with him."
I'd rather deal with Leon's anger . . . I don't say that though.
She shakes her head, confused. "But-"
"You were right," I interrupt, because if I let her finish I might lose my nerve. "You do need to practice. Reading only gets you so far."
Her breath stutters.
The truth hangs between us, dangerous and exposed.
I step closer before I can overthink it, my hand lifting to her cheek on instinct. Her skin is warm. Soft. She leans into my touch before she realises she's doing it.
"You need more," I add quietly.
I pull back just enough to breathe.
"What's that?" Her words are quiet, reverent.
"How it feels. You don't need some random guy to teach you that. I'll show you."
She doesn't need someone who doesn't give a shit.
