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“Have you talked to Anna?” His question was met with an icy stare. 

“No, I have not.”

They were folding napkins before the retirement party that evening, and so far, they had managed to complete one table. Well, he was folding napkins… Ivy was bunching them up into balls, but technically, this wasn’t her job.

“You’re terrible at that.” Milo took the napkin from her hand and folded it into a triangle. Ivy scowled at him. He folded the next one into a swan and handed it to her. 

“You’re a nerd.” A smile teased at the corners of her mouth. 

“I know. But stop changing the subject. You never told me the whole story. What’s wrong with the guy she married, anyway?”

She sighed and slumped down into the closest chair, the napkin swan in her lap. He watched her stroke its head. He continued his trek around the table, folding napkins as he went, waiting for Ivy to enlighten him. What was so bad about this guy that was worth ruining her best friend’s wedding and their friendship?  

“He propositioned me.”

“He what?”

“At the rehearsal dinner. He grabbed my ass and told me to meet him in the bathroom.” She lifted her chin and met his eye, daring him to call her a liar. 

“Asshole.” The word came out more forcefully than he intended, but the smile on Ivy’s face told him he was the right amount of pissed.

“I know. I tried to tell Anna, but she wouldn’t listen.” She shook her head, the sadness returning to her face. “Anyway, obviously, my little song at her wedding reception didn’t help. I don’t think she’ll be speaking to me for a while.”

Milo plopped down into the chair next to her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Ivy smelled like cinnamon and whiskey. He put out his hand, and she slid her flask into it. He took a sip and handed it back. As it turned out, work was a little bit less terrible if you were a little bit buzzed.

“Love makes you blind, Milo. Blind and stupid.” 

He cleared his throat; the whiskey warmed his insides. “Best to avoid it.” Her hair brushed across his neck, and her fingers traced circles on his thigh. Every place she touched him tingled with possibilities.

“Agreed.” She lifted her head and faced him. Her lips were like a small red heart in the center of her face. He flicked his gaze back up to her eyes, and she arched a single brow like she was daring him. 

“Milo!” Vito barked his name across the dining room. He jerked away from Ivy and stood while she stuffed the flask into the hoodie she had never given back to him. She was always cold in the heavily air-conditioned space.

“They’ve added ten more guests! We need to fit in another table.” The stubby man waddled toward them, his face its usual shade of scarlet.

“See you later,” Ivy whispered in his ear. She disappeared before Vito even made it across the room, and Milo was left to deal with the latest event planning crisis. But the taste of whiskey on his lips kept Ivy close all night.

Featured image by C MA via Unsplash.