Ivy pressed her palm against the glass door and watched for ten minutes before Nina noticed.
Nina found Ivy on the roof of the south building, barefoot, painting a mural of a storm.
"You're not supposed to be in this wing," Nina said, without looking up.
Would you like a continuation in this tone, or a different angle (e.g., poetic, suspenseful, or journal-entry style)? Nina North And Ivy Jones Ivys Seduction Of Nina...
Nina finally raised her eyes. Cool. Gray. Unimpressed.
Ivy should have left. Instead, she sat cross-legged on the floor, pulled out a charcoal stick, and began sketching Nina's silhouette against the window.
And Nina, for the first time in years, played a wrong note on purpose. Ivy pressed her palm against the glass door
"Stealing your light." For two weeks, Ivy appeared. Not every day—that would have been predictable. She'd skip three days, then arrive with coffee. She'd compliment Nina's posture, then critique nothing. She never asked for anything. That was the seduction.
"I'm never supposed to be anywhere," Ivy replied, grinning. "Ivy. Painting studio's flooded. They sent me to find dry air."
"You don't know me," Nina said.
Nina stood there for a long moment. Then, slowly, she sat down—not close, but not far.
Attached was a note: "You play like you're afraid of the silence between notes. But that's where I live."