For the first time, Ivy didn’t direct.
His profile was bare. One photo: a pair of calloused hands holding a welding torch, sparks bleeding into darkness. His bio read: “I build things that last. You?” hookuphotshot ivy aura
He smiled.
His name was Kai. He didn’t wear a suit. He wore jeans with grease stains on the knee and a black henley that clung to shoulders built from years of hauling steel. His jaw was sharp, his eyes the color of rain on asphalt, and when he smiled, it wasn’t charming—it was knowing . For the first time, Ivy didn’t direct