Asher’s POV
I looked into the mirror as Ivy adjusted my tie, her fingers brushing against my collar. She had this focused, gentle touch, and her lips were pulled into a serious pout. I could barely look at her—her perfume filled the air between us, making it hard to think.
“You know,” she said, giving my tie a final pat, “you actually clean up really well.” She smiled at me, and I felt that familiar warmth building in my chest.
“If dressing up like this is what it takes to get a compliment from you, I’ll do it every single day,” I declared.
She stifled a blush. “It doesn’t have to take so much,” her voice was barely above a whisper.
A smirk tugged at my lips. Was Ivy flirting with me? Was it just the magic of the night, or were her defenses slowly stripping away? I caressed her cheek
