𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟

Chapter 12 : Twenty Questions

Luckily, it's a warm night and the streets are relatively empty.

Ivy and I fall into step easily and she's still drinking, but only in small sips.

She suddenly stops after ten minutes of walking, lifts the bottle above her head and shakes it.

"Shit..."

"What ? What's wrong ?"

"My bottle is almost empty !" Ivy whines, "we need to get another, come on."

She starts walking slightly faster and I have to force down a frustrated groan.

"V, you're already drunk enough, you don't need another bot-"

Ivy stops again then turns around quite smoothly for a person so drunk.

She's getting annoyed with my scolding, if the look on her face is anything to go by.

"Listen up," she snaps, pointing her finger at me, "I didn't offer you to come with me so you could tell me what to do. I'm twenty-two, if I wanna drink till I get sick then that's my decision. No one can decide for me, not you, not Tyler, not Rosa or Michael or Tristan fucking Deféo, so if you plan on being a downer all night, feel free to leave because I'm not stopping for you, got it ?" Ivy gulps down some more Vodka to emphasize her point then continues to walk.

I know the only reason she mentioned Tristan is the alcohol currently rushing through her veins.

I don't want to fight with Ivy  and I don't want her to make me leave, because I know she won't come home with me and I can't leave her out here alone, especially when all I can see when I look at her are the bruises.

I decide to play along.

I catch up and Ivy throws me a suspicious look so I smile innocently at her.

"If I can't be the downer, you can't be the only one who has fun tonight."

Ivy smirks and offers me the bottle but I decline, "I don't drink."

She tilts her head to the side like it makes absolutely no sense.

"How can we both have fun if I'm the only one drinking ?"

"I can keep you entertained ?"

Ivy 'hums' and when she looks ahead she points to a small shop with neon green lights and glass walls.

"This is where we're getting more of this," she sings, waving the bottle in front of my face.

Weirdly enough, being around alcohol isn't as uncomfortable when it's Ivy who's drinking it. Nothing about this situation feels dangerous or threatening.

Sad maybe, but not scary.

We walk into the shop and the cashier is a man who seems to be in his thirties. When his dark eyes find Ivy - who is currently ignoring everything and everyone because she's on a hunt for more Vodka - he drags them over her body and licks his lips.

As much as I understand his reaction, I can't stand the thought of anybody looking at her like that.

I think Ivy's beauty goes beyond that.

The way her eyes are framed by long, dark lashes, how their color goes from light brown under the sun, to almost green when she's tired.
The pink of her lips that never seems to fade, one that is similar to the colour of her cheeks.
The dimples that make an appearance when she laughs loudly and her untamed locks around her pale skin.

Ivy moves so delicately sometimes, it's distracting.
She's a different kind of beautiful and she deserves to be appreciated for that alone.

So I walk to the cash register and clear my throat, effectively breaking the man's stare.