It was three a.m., and the apartment was shrouded in a quiet that felt almost too heavy after the stillness of the night. The only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old building. Ivy lay sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over her eyes, the soft glow of the city lights outside casting long shadows across the room. She wasn’t quite asleep, but not fully awake either—drifting in that hazy state where time seemed to stretch.
Then, she heard the front door creak open.
Ivy didn’t flinch. She knew it was Mia. They always came home around this time after their respective shifts at the bar, although tonight, Mia had stayed out later than usual. It wasn’t unusual for her friend to take on private bookings—high-paying clients who requested her presence after hours—but it always left her a little more exhausted than the typical night.
The soft click of heels echoed against the hardwood floors, the sound growing louder as Mia stepped into the apartment. She didn’t bother flicking on the lights, knowing Ivy was already there. Through half-closed eyes, Ivy saw the familiar figure glide into the room. Mia’s black mask was still in place, covering the upper half of her face—sleek and mysterious, with delicate silver patterns etched into the fabric. It was the mask Mia always wore when she performed at the bar, part of her stage persona. She used it to protect herself, to keep her real identity hidden from anyone who might try to connect her life as a performer with her pursuit of an acting career. Only Ivy knew the truth behind the mask, a secret they shared with no one else.
Mia’s hair, once pinned up with care, now hung loose and wild over her shoulders, framing her face in a cascade of dark waves. Her lips were painted a bold red, though smudged slightly from the long night. She was dressed in a shimmering black mini dress, glittering faintly under the dim light that filtered in through the blinds, and towering 7-inch heels that clicked with each step.
Without a word, Mia collapsed into the worn-out leather couch next to Ivy, letting out a long, tired sigh. Her body sank into the cushions, her head tilting back, exposing the smooth line of her throat as she closed her eyes.
Ivy sat up slowly, her movements unhurried, as if this had become a familiar routine between them. She swung her legs off the couch and knelt down in front of Mia, wordlessly reaching for her friend's feet. Mia’s heels were always the first thing to go after a night like this. Ivy gently unstrapped the buckles, slipping off one shoe, then the other, revealing Mia’s aching, reddened feet.
As Ivy began to massage Mia’s feet, kneading the knots and tension with practiced hands, Mia let out a soft moan of relief, sinking further into the couch. “God, I needed that,” she breathed, her voice muffled slightly by the mask she still wore. She didn’t seem to have the energy to take it off just yet.
“Rough night?” Ivy asked quietly, her hands working carefully to ease the strain from Mia’s muscles.
Mia tilted her head slightly, the edge of her lips curving into a tired smile beneath the mask. “You have no idea,” she sighed, her voice soft but carrying a hint of satisfaction. “But it was worth it. I had a private section tonight—a high-paying client. One of the best I've had in a while. Let’s just say I’m rolling in it right now.”
Ivy couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “I’m glad to hear it. Sounds like you made a killing.”
“Oh, you bet,” Mia said with a soft laugh, her shoulders relaxing as Ivy continued her foot massage. “I made so much money tonight that I almost feel guilty about it. *Almost.*” She winked, though it was barely visible behind the mask.
Ivy smiled, shaking her head. “Well, good for you. You deserve it after a night like that.”
Mia sat up slightly, pushing herself back against the couch cushions, her eyes still masked but now focused on Ivy. “Speaking of my high-paying client,” she began, her voice laced with intrigue, “he invited me to a charity gala next weekend.”
Ivy raised an eyebrow, her fingers pausing mid-massage. “Wait, what? He wants you to go with him?”
“Yup,” Mia said, stretching her arms over her head lazily. “It’s one of those fancy black-tie events. You know, champagne, caviar, rich people pretending to care about causes while flaunting their wealth. He asked me to be his date.”
Ivy blinked, still processing the words. “And you’re actually considering it?”
“Well...” Mia drew out the word, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Only if *you* come with me.”
Ivy sat back on her heels, giving Mia an incredulous look. “No. Absolutely not.”
Mia pouted behind the mask, her voice taking on a playful whine. “Come on, Ivy, think about it! It’s a huge opportunity. You could promote your art there! I mean, can you imagine getting your work seen by the kind of people who go to these things? They could buy it on the spot, or commission you for something big. It’s exactly what you need.”
“I don’t need a room full of rich strangers judging me,” Ivy muttered, rising to her feet and pacing the small space between the couch and the kitchen. “Besides, I don’t even have a plus one to bring, and I’m definitely not in the mood to sit in a room full of pretentious snobs. I don't belong there.”
Mia watched her friend, her gaze softening. “You always sell yourself short, Ivy. You’re enough, you know that? You don’t need anyone’s approval.” Her voice turned more serious as she sat forward, her mask glinting slightly in the dim light. “And you’ve got me. We’ll go together. I’ll be right there with you.”
Ivy stopped pacing, glancing back at Mia, her expression softening as well. She knew Mia meant well, always pushing her to take risks, to step outside her comfort zone. But this? It still felt overwhelming, like too much.
She sighed, shaking her head. “And you have a new date,” she teased, giving Mia a small smile.
Mia finally reached up, peeling the mask from her face and tossing it onto the coffee table. Her features were flushed from the night, but her eyes were bright, filled with that familiar spark of determination. “Touché,” she said, grinning. “But seriously, Ivy, think about it. It could be fun. And it could be huge for your art.”
Ivy flopped back onto the couch beside her, the tension still lingering in her shoulders. “I’ll think about it. But no promises.”
Mia grinned, nudging her playfully. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
The two sat in silence for a moment, the city’s distant hum barely audible from their apartment. Ivy rested her head against Mia’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of their friendship settle over them like a comforting blanket.
“Thanks, Mia,” Ivy murmured. “For always having my back.”
“Always,” Mia whispered back, her arm wrapping around Ivy’s shoulder in a gentle squeeze.
YOU ARE READING
Love in Overdrive
Romance**Ivy Monroe**, has a condition called emophilia, where she falls in love quickly and intensely. She has been through a series of failed relationships because she constantly mistakes infatuation for true love. Each heartbreak leaves her feeling more...
