Undoing Ivy

Tuesday Evening, October 13th, 5pm

Ivy parked her car back at the motel and looked across the street at Kings. She hadn't been able to get her interaction with Austin out of her head all day. This was completely unlike her; she was cool and composed. She commanded boardrooms filled with powerful men with ease, but something about being here made her feel small again.

She went into her room and changed into new clothes: a silk organza top that hugged her curves, wool riding-style pants, boots that brought her two inches taller. She applied mascara and lip gloss, her natural features highlighted.

She walked across the street and through the door. Austin glanced up from the bar, then looked back down, a smirk on his face.

She sat down, same place as last night. He poured her a drink, whiskey again, and didn't ask what she wanted.

"Back again?" he said. "Couldn't stay away."

"I'm tired of microwave pizza every night," she said.

"Can't believe you're staying at that big old house all by yourself," he said, organizing bottles behind the bar.

"I'm not," she said, hesitating. "I'm at the motel. It's the only place in town."

"Absolutely f*****g not," he said. "That place is disgusting. Why wouldn't you just stay at Richard's?"

"I don't want to. Bad memories, and it's big and scary at night alone there," she said, admitting something vulnerable. He watched her, noticing her opening up to him.

He changed the subject quickly, realizing she probably wouldn't want to talk about it. "I have them making you a burger." He never asked what she wanted. "It's the only good thing on the menu."

The bar was filling with patrons. She recognized some faces, but they didn't recognize her. Many people watched her though, her striking looks and outfit choice making her the center of attention.

He brought over the burger. "Napkin this time," he said, handing it to her. "Unless you'd prefer I clean you up again." She took the napkin from his hand and started to slowly eat her food.

She watched him behind the bar. He commanded that space like he'd commanded the football field, a quiet confidence.

When she finished, he came over, took away her plate, and poured her another whiskey.

"Listen," he said. "Don't stay at that motel anymore. I have a guest room you can rent. It's not much, but it's clean."

She hesitated. She had no intention of running into anyone from high school, let alone moving into their home. "Honestly, it's fine," she said.

"At least come see it? I can show you now. Jess just came in and can take care of the bar. It's a five-minute drive down the road."

She looked at him. "You aren't a serial killer, right? Going to tie me up and lock me in your basement?" His eyebrows raised at the last part.

"No," he said, humorless. "Let's go now."

She stood up and followed him out the door. He walked her to his truck and opened the passenger side door for her. She got in. The truck was meticulously clean and smelled like cedar. Good sign, she thought.

They drove down the street to his house and he pulled into the driveway. It was a nice house, small, A-frame style like a lot of the houses around here. He walked through the front door; inside it was surprisingly homey, bookshelves lining the wall, a leather couch with a small TV on one side, and the kitchen open to the living area with a peninsula and two stools.

He walked in and moved toward the stairs. "I'll show you the room," he said. She followed him up the stairs and he opened the first door on the left. The room was small but had a nice-looking bed, a dresser, and a closet. Tremendously better than the motel's setup.

She stepped in and sat down on the bed. He looked at her from the doorway, arms crossed, with a smirk. "Bouncy, right?"

"Okay," she said, ignoring his comment. "I'll take it. Let me pay you an advance for the first week." She pulled out her wallet. "No, we'll settle up when you leave," he said. "I keep the fridge stocked. Help yourself to everything."

"I'm going to head back to the bar and check in. I can run across the street and get your stuff at the motel if you want?" he said.

"It's okay, I can do it," she said.

"No, you settle in. Get comfortable. What's your room number?"

"56," she said.

"See you in a few." He walked downstairs and out the door.

She headed down to the living room. How was this happening, how was she in his house and moving in? Something about him made it impossible to say no. f**k, he was hot, taking control, telling her what to do. Just be cool, Ivy, she repeated to herself.

She sat down on his couch and looked through the books on the shelf. He had a good selection. His mom had been the town librarian and was always kind to Ivy, suggesting some of the favorite books she'd ever read: Franny and Zooey, The Bell Jar, Wuthering Heights. She'd spent a lot of time in the library after her mom died. It felt more comfortable than the house, which was haunted by the loss of her mom.

About forty minutes later she heard the car door close outside and he came through the door carrying her bags. He immediately brought them up to her room and descended back down.

"Jesus, Ivy, your clothes are fancy," he said. "Even your panties are expensive." She blushed, not having expected him to get such an intimate view of her things. She ignored the statement and turned to him.

"Good book collection," she said, hoping to move on.

"Thanks," he said, pouring them each a drink without asking if she wanted one. "My mom was a librarian."

"I know, I remember her. Did she retire?" she asked.

"Died eight years ago," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said genuinely. "She was always so kind to me, introduced me to so many books."

"Thank you. After she died my uncle decided to sell me the bar. I think it was a way of giving me something to focus on," he said.

He walked over and handed her the drink and sat next to her on the couch. "Feel free to watch something, I don't have any preference." She turned on the TV and left on whatever was on.

They stayed there for a while, watching quietly. Around 9pm she started to get sleepy. "I'm going to head to bed," she said, standing up from the couch.

"Bathroom is across the hall," he said as she headed to the stairs. "And, Ivy." She turned to look at him before she went up. "My room is at the end of the hall if you need..." He hesitated to emphasize. "Anything at all." A subtle smile crossed his face. "Just come in."

She looked at him and then headed up the stairs slowly, flustered by the comment. He's teasing, she thought. Her bag had been neatly laid out on the dresser, each clothing item perfectly folded, even her panties. She got changed and lay down. The bed was comfortable, but she was restless. About an hour later she heard footsteps in the hall; they slowed down in front of her room. He was right outside, just the door between them. She listened. After a minute they continued down the hall and into his room.