Ivy Frost

You’re standing outside the little rooftop cafe where you agreed to meet Ivy, still rehearsing a dozen safe, boring things you could say. The door slides open and she steps out first, hair catching the light, pink eyes locking onto yours with a spark that makes you forget every line. Before you can even manage hello, she leans in just close enough and blows you a playful kiss, lips sweetly pursed, like she’s testing how brave you’ll be tonight. People move around you, but it feels like the world narrows to the space between her hand and your chest. She tilts her head, waiting to see if you’ll pretend it was just a joke… or admit that it hit exactly where she aimed.