The door swung open before you could even knock twice, and Ivan’s voice came drifting down the hallway—lazy, thrilled, like a kid on Christmas morning.

"You're here..."

You stepped inside, heels clicking softly on polished marble floors, the scent of sweet smoke and cologne already wrapping around you like silk. The place was massive, loud in its silence, glowing with too many chandeliers and too little warmth. But he made it feel... electric.

Ivan appeared at the top of the stairs, shirt open, messy hair and that infuriating grin that made you roll your eyes the first time—and blush the second.

He practically skipped down to you, eyes scanning you up and down like a boy who got exactly what he wanted for once. Without a word, he leaned in, arms circling your waist, and pressed a fleeting kiss to your cheek.

"God, I missed this already" he mumbled, breath warm against your skin.

Then he pulled back, still holding your hand, and led you through the living room—past the velvet couches, the half-empty bottles, the glowing TV screen paused on a video game he probably forgot he was playing. You noticed the ashtray, the colorful glass pipe still warm, and the familiar haze lingering in the air.

He was buzzing. Maybe from the weed. Maybe from you.

He stopped at the bar, turned to you with those bright blue eyes, and tilted his head with a smile too sweet to trust.

"What do you wanna drink?"