“So did you,” Ivy replied, her voice softer than she intended.
“You’re shaking,” Scarlett murmured against her skin.
Scarlett Sage was sitting on an old prop trunk, her costume’s sequins catching the ghost of a distant streetlamp. She wasn’t drinking. She was just there , looking small despite the armor of her stage persona. -MissaX-Ivy Wolfe- Scarlett Sage - In Love with...
The rain was a persistent whisper against the studio window. Ivy Wolfe stood backstage, the velvet curtain a cool weight against her bare shoulder. She wasn't supposed to be here. Not like this. The after-party was in full swing on the main floor—clinking glasses, the hollow laughter of industry praise—but she had slipped away, seeking the quiet dark.
Scarlett closed the distance. Her lips didn’t meet Ivy’s mouth. Instead, they pressed softly against the pulse point on Ivy’s throat—feeling the frantic, honest rhythm there. “So did you,” Ivy replied, her voice softer
Ivy’s heart hammered against her ribs. So did I. She took a step closer. “What line was it?”
They stayed like that, wrapped in the velvet dark, two women who had spent years pretending to be someone else’s fantasy. But this—the quiet, the rain, the forbidden pull—this was only theirs. She wasn’t drinking
Scarlett’s breath hitched. “Then we’re in trouble.”