𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨́𝐧 𝐈𝐯𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟗. [⚠︎︎]

Ivy's Pov
I lingered in front of the mirror, readjusting my red tube top that insisted in its downward escape. Eventually, I resorted to nipple covers to mask any potential wardrobe malfunctions in public. Logically, swapping the top would have been the better option, but it was too irresistible to not wear it for today's outing to the mall with Armani. Catching her reflection behind me, Armani's expression only worsened each second in disapproval of my attire.

I couldn't help but suppress a smile, doing my best not to burst into laughter at her annoyed expression. "What's the matter? You don't like it?" I playfully taunted, adding a touch of sarcasm and sadness to my tone. Swiftly, I retrieved my jeans from the dresser and quickly slid them on, all the while still maintaining eye contact with Armani through the mirror, even though she stubbornly fixed her gaze on my top.

"Where's the rest of it?" Armani asked, her tone as serious as it could get.

"It's a tube top, Armani. It's supposed to be like this. If you're thinking of telling me to change, save it, because I'm not," I grumbled in frustration, starting to feel a bit annoyed. After checking myself out in the mirror one last time, I made my way into the bathroom. Luckily, I still had some unworn outfits and undergarments from our recent trip to Paris, so I didn't have to make a stop back home to pack a bag. While I had already packed the essentials, I now wanted to purchase some new clothes to keep at Armani's house for when I stay over.

Armani rolled her eyes before she reached for the ashtray and the bag brimming with marijuana on the nightstand. "I wasn't going to tell you to change clothes. It's not like you listen to shit I say anyway," she said with a dismissive chuckle, skillfully distributing the herb into the blunt wrap. I remained silent, observing as she meticulously sealed the wrap with a deliberate, slow lick, maintaining an unbroken gaze that seemed to challenge my silence.

A flush spread across my cheeks as I quickly tamed the last of my hair's edges and scrubbed my hands, then stepped out of the bathroom. I made my way to the nightstand, intending to retrieve my phone, but Armani's grip on my belt loop halted my progress. A frown creased my forehead before I found myself drawn down, landing onto Armani's lap. Her arms encircled each side of me, while the blunt hung from the side of her mouth.

Armani reclined on the bed, her back pressed flat against the mattress. She stretched out, her fingers grazing the ashtray as she picked up the lighter and extended it towards me. "Light me up?" The request came out more as a command than a question. I nodded, swallowing hard, and took the lighter from her hand. My thumb worked the flint, the lighter resisting at first until it finally yielded a flame.

I brought the flame to the tip of the blunt, watching as it caught and began to smolder. Armani drew in a deep breath, the smoke swirling within her before she released it, directing the exhaled cloud right into my face. "You couldn't have waited until we got back? Now our clothes are going to smell like weed," I pouted, throwing my head back dramatically.