Ivory's Ruin | 𝘈 𝘉𝘢𝘥 𝘉𝘰𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺

⁀➴ 2

⇥ Iνσɾʮ ⇤

Golden eyes.

Dark, angled eyebrows and the shadow of rough stubble framing the hard line of his mouth.

Long auburn hair that faded to a pastel pink at the ends—tonight it wasn't in a bun, but fell past his shoulders like that of some medieval king. He didn't have a costume on, nor did he need one. The black leather jacket hanging off his shoulders opened on either side, and a set of pecs showed through his taut graphic t-shirt.

He saw her.

This time, he definitely saw her.

"It's you?"

Nia's exclamation should have added a layer of intrigue to the situation, but Ivory still couldn't figure out which way her feet wanted to move.

As a result she was rooted to the spot, capable only of watching as the scene played out. The room was unbearably hot, and yet despite this, she wished her costume consisted of more than a tank top and spandex shorts veiled in nearly transparent chiffon.

The man's face twisted in confusion, and he closed the fridge door with a beer in hand. "Yes?"

"You're the guy from the hair salon," Nia clarified.

He straightened and leaned back into the counter, which only made his muscles all the more apparent—only emphasized every time his gaze shifted to her.

Such a shame he was a masterpiece. Breathing would be a whole lot easier if she wasn't on the verge of cardiac arrest.

"Ah, yes," he said, recognition flashing across his face. "Can I help you?"

"My friend Ivory wants to dye her hair," Nia blurted, then added after a pause, "Purple. She wants purple hair."

All things considered, it was sound enough reasoning. Anyone who knew anything about her knew she loved purple. It wasn't just her favorite color, it might as well be the shade of her personal aura. Everything from the sheets on her bed to her palettes of makeup, to the background on her phone were some shade of purple.

And she really wouldn't mind a switch from dusty brown to purple, but perhaps under different circumstances.

"Do you need it done...right now?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Thoughts momentarily disrupted, her tongue loosened and she managed to come up with a reply. "N-no! I came in for a refill, that's all."

Ivory took two quick steps to the counter where several large drink coolers sat next to a diminishing stack of red cups. Pouring a cup of water for Nia, she tried to explain the odd request. "I've been talking about my hair for weeks now, you see, so when Nia saw you, she had to say something."

She laughed nervously.

"I saw an opera—opportunity, and took it." Nia smiled, accepting the cup of water Ivory handed over.

This was going great. Between the two of them, they looked like a plastered mess. At least Nia might get better after hydrating, but her issue would persist even if this guy took the wise option and decided not to stick around.

"If it's that important, I'd be glad to do it for you," he said, taking her by surprise. "We can dye it in my apartment. That way I can waive the salon fee, providing you buy the dye."

Wrapping a palm over the beer bottle, he used one of the gold rings on his fingers and popped off the lid. It fell to the ground with a metallic clang, and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

How nice of him to offer, really, but she'd rather risk botching the job herself and getting fined for ruining the dorm's bathroom than consider being in his apartment. Knowing where he lived was a major health concern for both of them.