There were two things no one could argue that Ivy Ototi was not spectacular at.

The first was that she could find natural fabrics right about anywhere. It did not matter just how much of a rubbish pile the thrift store was - she was bound to find something and that something usually wound up being made of natural fabric and stylish beyond belief. Of course, her style was the kind that not many would look to emulate. It was the kind that looked only good on her and would probably look disastrous on another, but it was hers, and she never deviated.

The second was being utterly besotted.

It could have been argued that one could be besotted by anything. Take, for instance, her upstairs neighbour, Mama Boi. She was besotted with the idea of being a mum, and at sixty, she still held on to the belief she was going to be a mum to a bouncy baby boy named Boi. Only a few people knew that Boi didn't exist, one among them Ivy, and they decided to turn the other way and let her go on with her ministrations.

Another most besotted of creatures was the watchman of Alpine Flats (where Ivy had lived for most of her very serious adult life). He went by Kiptum, and there was nothing he loved more than his puppies. They were, of course, not puppies but denizens of hell that barked and harked the death songs of said hell to any and all who were not Kiptum. And even though many had lodged complaints against said puppies, Kiptum had been adamant that his babies could seldom even hurt a fly, let alone sing praises of hell. (It should be noted that after this very specific complaint lodged by one Ivy Ototi, she found herself a lifetime enemy in Kiptum as he believed his puppies were of angelic origins and said slight was not to be easily forgotten).

Ivy, though, was neither besotted by imaginary babies nor hellhounds. Instead, what occupied her mind in an almost concerning degree was her utter and possibly concerning devotion to being in love with her best friend, Chastity Kioko.

The thing about it was, one day she had been very ordinary about it and the next day, she had sat herself somewhere, a corner in the most corner of corners, treasured by shadows, and wrote the most godawful Sonnets known to man. Sonnets that shared her feelings so desperately and in a very untalented way should they have been found, she would have been arrested not only for being so superiorly untalented but also concerningly obsessed. But they were hers, and they had been the thing she'd imagined would bring her closest to the object of all her desires.

This was until she found herself in said arms of all her desires, one hand cupping her right breast with such glorious abandon she could not believe herself.

It was morning, and she was not at Alpine Flats. The sun was beaming through the curtains, dancing like her heart was, congratulating her on doing something that had previously been impossible in her mind of mind. Her right leg was numb with pins and niddles, but she did not want to move. To move would incur unfortunate things like not being groped by the love of her life. She also wanted to stretch, but she quelled the desire and remained steadfast at being unmoving. She did not want any of the glorious morning to end because of her.

It was then that Chastity began stiring for the morning. In turn, Ivy closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing. It was difficult because she suddenly forgot how to do it, and it felt as though she was drowning in air. She wondered how she'd done it before.

For a beat, Chastity did not move, and Ivy wondered if her cover had been blown. Was she breathing too loudly? Was she turning blue despite how dark her complexion was? Had she seen it? The love within her, blossoming with the sun rays. She could not answer any of these with her eyes closed, and so she pretended away the best way she could, hoping she looked charming and pretty in her sleeping state.

Carefully, she heard Chastity sigh and then pull her hand away, the glories of groping gone. Then, carefully, she got off the bed and began rampaging through something. Ivy wanted to know what, and so she naturally began to stir. Then she heard a whispered flurry of curses followed by an unserious pitter patter of feet that disappeared into the bathroom down the corridor.

She opened her eyes and pulled herself to a resting position on her elbows.

Surely, she thought, surely her best friend was not planning on hitting and quitting. Surely, she wasn't planning on abandoning her after a glorious one night stand. Then she wondered if she looked like some sort of gorgon, and maybe that's why she ran. She pushed her braids down and rubbed at her eyes and lips, hoping not a symptom of sleep was on her before she pulled herself up right and sat on the bed. She fluffed the pillow she'd used and carefully arranged the blankets about her. She was going for cool and unbothered, and both these things needed her to be comfortable with her breasts out.

It could have been a minute or an hour. She could not tell over the rapid beating of her heart when the door to the bathroom finally swung open. By this time, Ivy had reasoned that, of course, Chastity had been pressed. It was only natural for her to be in a rush for the bathroom. But the look on Chastity's face as she came in fought valiantly with her argument.

"It can't be," she heard herself say, a biting force behind her tone. "Surely you're not running away from me, in your own house, yes?"

Chastity looked right back, and for a fraction of a moment, Ivy just about jumped out of the bed and made her way to her, willing to fall to her knees and apologise. She was wrong, of course she was wrong. What did she know of the mornings that followed one night stands with the absolute love of one's life? She was wrong, yes. She didn't understand the intricacies that followed after. She was probably not cool enough to get the handbook on how to be cool the morning after the most glorious one-time shag.

She was stronger than most, though, and had she not been slightly miffed, she'd have high fived herself at her resolve to being unbothered, serious, and very grown up.

"I wasn't - look," Chastity began, puffing herself up and letting a confident smile fall in place, "I just needed to get it. You know, we were super drunk, and I barely remember half of what happened. I was just shocked and... you get these things! You're freaking Ivy Ototi!"

Ivy was not sure what things she was supposed to get, but she didn't push for elaboration. Pushing for elaboration would have made her supremely uncool and so she pushed the blankets right off (god, she felt so throughly exposed) and reached out for her underwear (which had been artfully strewn across the wooden floors).

"Yeah," she said as she shimmed into her underwear, back to Chastity because she imagined the act of wearing your underwear in front of someone, eye contact involved, crossed the line to something not mysterious. She wanted to be mysterious with her best friend of ten years.

She could hear Chastity shuffle about, and she wanted to quiet her. It was making her jittery and jittery always made her talk too much. But she held herself together, and by the time she'd thrown on her blouse, Chastity was no longer shuffling but instead became quiet.

"Let's have breakfast then. I'm not going to fight Kiptum and his demons on an empty stomach, right?" She was almost fully impressed with how collected she was with her talking. She could also breathe! But then, thinking about it made her labour through cool breathing.

She sounded as though she could not hide her relief and Ivy was displeased by this. "Sure! Sure, of course! How's he been even?"

Ivy shrugged. She was hurt and she was trying to stall for talking. Had she been that bad? She'd thought they'd had a smashingly fantastic night. Maybe she was not modern enough. Thinking back on being modern with one night stands, she put on a fake smile and turned to face Chastity. Unlike her, she only had a t-shirt and underwear on. She, of course, had seen her in this state more times than she could count but that morning... "Hateful beast, that Kiptum, but I think we'll make progress tonight."

With an established comfortable unease between them, they made breakfast, sat on at the kitchen counter, and talked about all the trivial things they could think of.

Then it was over, and Ivy said goodbye, shutting the door behind her and sprinting into the morning.