Ivy: Yes, thank you. You make me feel all shivery.
Me: Good shivery or bad shivery?
Ivy: Definitely good :)
Me: Then get ready for more. I have a lot more shivers to give you. ;)~
IVY
LUKAS WANTED TO PICK ME UP and bring me to his place for dinner, but that felt silly to me, so I insisted on driving to his place. I think his chivalry is sweet, but I feel better having my own car in case I want to leave for whatever reason. Lindsay yelled at me when I told her earlier, telling me I was being difficult and that I should be grateful he has manners. She then ended the call reminding me to get on top of him.
I fall a little bit in love with him when I see what he’s wearing as he lets me in his door. He’s got on a black button-down shirt that’s unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, faded jeans, and black and white converse sneakers. He pulls off casual and sexy so effortlessly, and the sneakers tug at a little piece of the high school girl that still lives inside me.
“You look pretty,” he says, pulling me inside and shutting the door behind me. Taking my hand, he leads me to the living room. “Make yourself comfy. I’m just gonna go check dinner.”
“Okay.” Taking off my coat and laying it over the arm of the couch, I look around his house, which is beautiful and exotic, just as I imagined it would be.
The old stone church he lives in has been turned into a two story house, with the tattoo parlor taking up about half of the first floor, and the other half being this huge living room, kitchen, dining area, and bathroom. The tattoo parlor is completely separate, with its own entrance at the front of the house. A beautiful stairway leads upstairs to where I assume the bedrooms are. Part of the second floor is open with a wooden railing to a loft area, giving the house a very open feel.
“Do you need any help?” I call out toward the kitchen.
“No!” he hollers back
I continue to gaze around his house. Stained wooden beams run across the ceiling and walls. The floors are dark hardwood with colored rugs beneath a large, black leather, sectional couch and mahogany coffee table. Two purple velvet accent chairs sit off to the side, turned toward a huge flat screen television mounted on the wall. The tall stained glass windows are beautiful and timeless, and give off a warm, colorful glow to the room. Wide archways with stone accents divide the rooms. It’s just breathtaking and so rich looking, the kind of house you would see in a fantasy movie.
I slowly walk around the living room, admiring the artwork on the walls and the statues and trinkets perfectly displayed, lightly running my fingertips over the beautiful antique accent furniture, remembering how he told me he also liked to feel the depth of these treasures, and I want to feel what he feels.
“Hello.”
I jump about a mile, and then lean forward, not quite believing what I’m seeing . . . and hearing. In front of me is a huge black metal birdcage sitting atop a marble stand, and inside is a raven. A real raven. I step closer to the magnificent bird, who’s also eyeing me with his amber eyes.
“Well, hello there,” I say, captivated. The bird is beautiful, as black as night, tilting his head at me.
“Don’t talk to him!” Lukas shouts from the kitchen.
“I’m a pretty bird,” the bird says.