"You're lowkey insane," Ivy said as she snapped another risqué photo of me. "I love it."
"Thanks," I said with a toothy grin, dropping effortlessly into what I liked to call the stretching cat pose. Her camera clicked nonstop as I flowed from one pose to the next, each one more exaggerated than the last.
"Remind me again why we're trying to piss off your insanely hot and rich boyfriend?" She took another shot. "If you don't want him, I'll volunteer as tribute. Daddy can be as controlling as he likes. I'll gladly obey."
"Well, maybe for the right guy, I’d make an exception," she joked back.
I only recently got to know Ivy through work, but she’s one of those people who just gets it. She’s got this pop-punk vibe down to a science and adorns cute choppy dark hair streaked with neon pink,
