Underdose

The Queen Bitch of Ashford's alt scene was about to go down

hard

, and Willa couldn't wait.

She'd been thinking about Ivy all night, picturing how Her Royal Prissiness would react to being humiliated in front of the entire house party. Would she stammer out nonsense syllables, or be entirely lost for words? Would she stand there stupefied, or run away to try and preserve her last shreds of dignity? What would she look like once her icy, indifferent bravado was well and truly shattered?

No matter how it went down, it would be spectacular. Unable to wait any longer, Willa slipped past a couple kissing sloppily and locked herself in the bathroom to prepare her plan.

She and Ivy had been feuding for almost a year by then—long ago enough that the inciting event was long forgotten, buried beneath a mountain of mutual contempt. It was an on-again, off-again struggle waged with gossip, drunken shouting matches, romantic sabotage, and on one occasion, even a slap fight. Ivy's fellow goths and Willa's witch-y friends had learned to stay far away from the conflict, preventing it from expanding into any larger drama. On the one hand, that meant there was no chance for the scene to split apart. On the other hand, it meant the two of them kept running into each other—and kept trying to prove their superiority in front of the entire Ashford scene.

Tonight, Willa would do exactly that beyond a shadow of a doubt. She glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror, blue eyes scanning over her chaotic orange curls and the slinky white dress that flowed over her tall form. Once satisfied, she dug around in her half-purse, half-satchel until she found the catalyst for Ivy's downfall: A small vial filled with bubblegum pink liquid.

A love potion.

Though Willa's witchiness didn't extend far beyond her aesthetics and hobbies, she'd spent enough time in the scene to know a girl who knew a girl who knew a girl experienced with the occult. After much cajoling and many reassurances of good intent (not

too

wicked intent, anyway), Willa had finally convinced the mysterious alchemist to brew the draught of love she now held. Its effects were simple: After drinking it, you fell hopelessly in love with the first person you saw for the next 24 hours or so. Simple.

It was all Willa needed. She'd slip the potion into Ivy's drink, ensure she was the first person the Queen Bitch saw after drinking, and then make her embarrass herself in front of

everyone

. A wicked grin spread across her face as she tucked the vial up the sleeve of her dress, checked her hair one last time, and then returned to the party with the focus and determination of a hunter.

A circuit of the ranch-style house revealed that Ivy was on the back patio, smoking and conversing with a small group. Slightly taller than Willa, she'd opted for a much tighter black dress that revealed plenty of alabaster cleavage and thigh. Her chunky black boot absently ground the remnants of her last cigarette to dust. Like always, Willa rolled her eyes internally the moment she saw her. It was all theater all the time with Ivy; her dainty gestures, her lilting laugh, the way a strand or two of her jet black hair would inevitably come loose from whatever style she wore and frame her face perfectly—

so

annoying.

Marching through the beer-soaked remnants of what was technically the kitchen, Willa swiped a bottle of bourbon and two red plastic cups before heading out the back door to join her rival. She let the screen door slam shut behind her, catching everyone's attention and immediately shifting the mood.

"Oh, Christ," grumbled Mikey, a mutual friend of Willa's and Ivy's. "Can't we just have a chill night?"

Ivy made a point of sighing loudly. "That won't do for Little Miss Attention Grabber."

Willa had to bite her tongue to keep from making a snide retort—it was pure instinct by this point. Instead, she shrugged and held out the bottle of bourbon. "I come in peace."

Nobody really believed her, but they grudgingly allowed her to join them on the balcony. Ivy turned up her nose a few extra degrees, the smug bitch.

Mikey looked nervously between the rivals, but continued the earlier conversation. "...anyway, I'm gonna head down to LA and see her. Nothing serious, y'know, just checking in."

This next phase of Willa's plan was both the vaguest and the easiest—all she had to do was annoy Ivy, and that was virtually guaranteed.

"Is this Rachel?" she piped in, merging with their circle.

"Yup."

"Oh my Goddess!" Willa added a little extra pitch and volume to the exclamation. "How

is

she?"

Ivy scoffed and turned toward the street to exhale a cloud of smoke.

"Not bad, not bad. We're still trying to figure out where we're at, but at the very least we can still be friends."

"That's great! I'm SO happy for you."

"...we can tell." Ivy mumbled into her drink.

Willa turned toward her, happy to put her very real irritation to good use in her plan. "What was that?"

Ivy just rolled her eyes and took another hit of her joint.

Goddess

she was

insufferable

. "Nothing."

"It's cool," Mikey interjected. "She didn't say anything."

Willa gave a fake chuckle with a slight edge to it. "I'm pretty sure she did, but if she wants to act like a child and pretend she didn't then okaaaay..."

"And here we go." Mikey looked up at the night sky, shaking his head.

"Acting like a child?" Ivy put a hand on her hip, her voice shifting from passive aggressive to just plain old aggressive. "What, you mean like interrupting our conversation to be all fake and screechy?"

"Don't put that on me! You literally

just

interrupted it with your snarky ass commentary!" Willa crossed her arms.

"Cuz you'd already ruined it! There was no point going on when you were just gonna drunkenly yell about how 'amazing' everything was."

A rush of excitement filled Willa as she was presented with a perfect angle. "Real rich, coming from a girl who can't handle her liquor for shit."

The bait was set. As expected, Ivy went for it instantly.

"You wanna bet?" The goth nodded to the bottle of bourbon. "First to tap out goes home and gets the fuck out of my face."

"Trust me: Nobody will be in your face when you lose and leave early, bitch."

This was it. Willa adjusted her sleeve to push the love potion into the palm of her hand, flicking the vial open with her thumb. Trying hard to act casual, she leaned forward and...

And then she bumped her thigh into the table, very nearly dropping the potion before managing to secure her grip.

Shit

. Real fucking smooth. At least she hadn't spilled too much—there was still a decent amount left for her to pour into Ivy's glass. Nobody else noticed her slip up, either.

The plan was

actually

going to work.

In the meantime, Ivy was busy trying to rope in a very disinterested Mike. "C'mon! Come pour? It'll be fun."

"Whatever." Thoroughly sick of their bullshit, Mikey shuffled over to the table and put a generous amount of booze into both cups. "Here. Go nuts. At least you'll stop fighting once you've both passed out."

The rivals each took their drinks, then squared up with one another.

"Round one," Ivy declared, staring daggers at the witch across from her. "Three..."

Willa was practically giddy with the knowledge of her impending victory.

"Two..."

All she had to do was drink her slightly cloudy-looking bourbon, and then—wait. Was that a trick of the light?

"One and

drink

!"

With an instinct honed over countless drinking contests past, Willa and Ivy automatically threw back their drinks on cue. A single gulp later, they displayed their empty cups for all to see—both of which had pinkish residue at the bottom—and then went back to glaring at one another.

Willa's eyes went wide as she realized her mistake.

ohfuckIfuckingspilledinmyown—

Willa's eyes went even wider as she realized how wonderful a mistake it had been.

Ivy was absolutely radiant. Not just because of her physical beauty—and she was

incredibly

beautiful—but because of how her beauty expressed her unique soul. Her heavy, dark makeup was not only stark and enticing but also evidence of her creative spark and artistic talents; the lacy, revealing nature of her outfit showed not just her smooth, supple skin but also her confidence and impeccable taste. Her proud, noble posture and demeanor spoke to the strength and dignity of her spirit.

Willa kept shooting long looks her way, only for Ivy to notice and both of them to quickly look away. It was an incredibly awkward back-and-forth dance, but she simply couldn't help herself while so close to such a presence. Goddess, Ivy probably thought she was acting

super

weird. If Ivy was thinking about her, anyway.

Was

Ivy thinking about her? Maybe her dose wasn't working, or was too small, or—

Mikey spit some phlegm onto the grass. "You two good?"

"Yes!" Willa hurriedly squeaked.

"What? Uh, yeah. Obviously. Of course," Ivy stammered, pulling at the hem of her dress.

"Cups?" Mikey held out his hands hesitantly. "Or are we done here, or..."

Willa and Ivy stole glances at one another, trying and failing to read the other's expression.

"Um. If you'd like?" Willa ventured.

"If you would."

"Sure! I mean, yes. I would."

"Then yes. I would."

"Okay. Great."

"Yeah."

During their stammering, Mikey's expression had fully transitioned from annoyed confusion to no longer giving a shit. He poured out two more shots, then set the bourbon bottle on the ground between them.

"If you wanna keep going, then find another judge. I gotta take a leak." He trudged back into the house.

With his departure, only Willa and Ivy were left out on the back patio. They lapsed into silence, Willa's heart pounding hard in her chest as she worked up the courage to speak.

"Did you want to..." Her voice trailed off when she looked up into Ivy's endless brown eyes. There was such intensity behind them; it surrounded and pulled at Willa like an insistent current.

"Let's," came Ivy's rich, resonant alto.

The two of them took tiny shuffling steps toward one another, arms interlocking once more. Willa's breath caught when they made skin contact, and she swore she saw Ivy shudder.

"Round two. Three, two, one."

Their second drink went down even faster than their first, leaving both of them sputtering and coughing. The coughing quickly mixed with giggles, and before long they were laughing hard enough to bring tears and holding each other up.

"Your face is

so

red!" Willa giggled, setting her cup to the side—the contest all but forgotten in a matter of seconds.

For her part, Ivy was still laughing too hard to get out more than a few words at a time. "I—I got—I spilled—" She was cut off by a massive hiccup that left her looking totally stunned.

This, of course, only brought on

more

rounds of giggles from the pair.

By the time the laughter finally died down, they had slid down to a seated position on the patio steps side by side—Willa's heart had skipped a beat the moment Ivy had shifted so their thighs touched. They sat quietly, listening to the dim sounds of the party behind them and looking out onto the empty street.

To an outside perspective, it may have almost looked peaceful; to Willa, it was one of the most stressful experiences of her life. The alcohol and love potion practically demanded she tell Ivy her feelings, but fear left her frozen in place. Not just fear of rejection, but fear that this whole situation wasn't quite right.

Ivy had a right to know about the potion.

Willa knew her own love was genuine. Ivy was the most amazing girl she'd ever met; just because a potion had helped her realize that didn't make it any less true. But what if Ivy didn't feel the same? How could their love—if there was to be such a thing—rest on the foundation of such a dirty secret?

Willa frowned. While the possibility of facing rejection or hurting Ivy's feelings made her heart ache, saying nothing would be far worse.

"Ivy?"

"Hm?" The goth gave her a warm, dreamy smile. Goddess she was

so cute

.

"Um." Best to do it fast, before she lost her nerve. Luckily, once the words started, they kept on coming. "I...I put a love potion in your drink. Our drinks, actually. Mine by mistake. I was going to just give it to you because I was mad and petty and I wanted to embarrass you, but then I spilled everywhere and it was the best thing that's ever happened to me, and—"

"Wait." Ivy interjected, suddenly sitting up ramrod straight. "You gave me a

love potion

?"

Willa swallowed hard. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"And you took some too?"

Willa nodded.

"So what I'm feeling...you feel that way too?" Ivy looked down at her fidgeting hands. Her next few words came out as little more than whispers. "About me?"

Willa gaped as she realized the roundabout confession she'd just made. That embarrassment was quickly smothered by hopeful anticipation as she realized Ivy was very likely making a roundabout confession herself. Could it be? Could the imposing, goth queen really have feelings for her?

Willa took a deep breath. She had to know. "How...how do you feel about me?"

Ivy squirmed a little at the question, spawning a deep desire in Willa to cover her in kisses and hold her tight and never let her go.

"I...like you, Willa. A lot." Immediately after saying the words, Ivy covered her face with her hands in embarrassment.

Willa reached out and gently pulled her hands away, one by one. She wouldn't let anything cover that beautiful face. She suddenly realized just how close their faces were. "I like you a lot too, Ivy."

Both of them went in for a kiss at the same time. For Willa, it was hardly even a conscious choice—she had to experience her love in as many ways as possible; had to get as close to her as the laws of physical reality would permit. Had to, at least for a brief moment, have her entire world consist of this wonderful woman.

The kiss was a fantastic means to that end. Shudders of jubilation ran through Willa's body with every little nibble or hint of tongue. Ivy's painted-black lips proved deft and assertive, the goth leaning in hard while grabbing onto her hips. It was all Willa could do to link her hands behind Ivy's neck and match her ferocious pace, letting out little whimpers as her nipples strained against her dress. Beyond that, she gladly lost herself to the moment.

Lack of breath finally forced them to pause. They pulled apart no more than a few inches, gazing adoringly into each other's eyes.

"You're really special, Ivy." Willa brushed a strand of her former rival's hair away from her face, thumb brushing against her impossibly soft skin. "I realized that pretty early on. What was the name of that dumpy basement club we went to? The one with the awful bands?"

"Club Envy."

"Right. We were out at Envy one night, and you were wearing this

impossibly

long backless dark red dress. Anyway, I was in a shit mood and getting ready to leave, but then I turned and saw you practically gliding across the room toward the bar with such dignity and poise. Like an ancient vampire goddess come to gift us with her presence."

Willa closed her eyes, relishing every detail of the memory still available to her: The constant drone of bass, the smell of cheap beer and sweat, the lights of the club catching on Ivy's coy smile. Oddly enough, her recollection wasn't colored by the intense joy of the potion's effects.

"We'd met by then, but that night...that night I really

saw

you. And what I saw entranced me."

Ivy bit her lip and averted her eyes, blushing intensely. "Flatterer."

"Truth-teller, more like." Willa wriggled a little closer to Ivy, half-pouring herself onto her lover's lap. She needed...she just

needed

.

Ivy welcomed her presence, wrapping her arms around Willa. For a long moment, the goth stared up at the moon, lost in thought. "For me, it was the time we got into that big screaming match at Mikey's after everyone had left. At the autumnal equinox party, I think."

Willa nodded. She knew the one. It was the first time their former mutual dislike—which now seemed distant and absurd—had truly boiled over into a blowout fight.

"There was a brief lull in the argument," Ivy continued, her fingers reaching up to run through Willa's hair, "and I looked at you, fiery and passionate and red in the face, and you looked at me, and I suddenly wondered: Are we about to start having hate sex?"

"Ivy!" Willa gasped.

"Come on. You're telling me you never thought about that? Not even once?" Ivy rested her chin on Willa's shoulder and nuzzled her cheek playfully.

Willa's only response was incoherent stammering, which made both of them burst back into uproarious laughter.

When it finally died down, though, they weren't in the same position as before. Something significant had been acknowledged, and now it was on both of their minds.

A gust of wind—aided by her thoughts—made Willa shiver.

"Cold?"

"Yeah, guess so."

Ivy gently deposited Willa from her lap and stood, offering a hand. "Want to head back inside? I have the key to one of the bedrooms if you want to take a break from the party." Hope gleamed in her expression.

Willa's breath caught in her throat. Her body was practically thrumming with excitement. "Yes, please."

Holding hands once more—why had they ever stopped, Willa wondered—the pair reentered the house and wound their way through the crowd inside. They left wide eyes and curious whispers in their wake, especially as they reached the stairs and their intentions became clear. Even if their attention hadn't been entirely consumed by one another, they still wouldn't have minded the gossip. Everyone would learn of their undying devotion soon enough.

Ivy was the first to enter the bedroom, a spare with little more than a queen-sized bed and an empty desk. She whipped around once the door closed behind Willa, devilish mirth in her eyes. "Willa," she declared, placing her hands on either side of the shorter girl's face, "can I make you mine tonight?"

"Yes." Never before had Willa uttered so firm a declaration. It felt oddly formal in a way that made her stomach spin with delight, like being asked to dance at a fancy ball. "Can I make you mine, Ivy?"

"Of course."

Another kiss, this one no more than a brief prelude. With the reassurance of a nod from Willa, Ivy let her hands trail down and delicately peel away the redhead's shoulder straps. Never breaking eye contact, she guided Willa into lifting her arms up with a few gentle taps, then gripped the bodice of her dress and sharply pulled the garment off entirely. Willa gasped, an aroused shiver rolling through her. Her rosy skin reflected the room's dim yellow light, its uniform color broken by a smattering of freckles around her shoulders and the stiff pink nipples capping her sizable breasts. Ivy took a step back, admiring the sight.

"Exquisite," she murmured under her breath. "Truly exquisite."

Driven by desire, Willa reached out to help Ivy match her state of undress. But before she could, the goth caught her questing hand and kissed it.

"Not yet, my darling."

Willa's only response was a quiet whimper. Being uniquely exposed like this was driving her wild in a way she hadn't fully expected—it made her feel like a treasured work of art, like something worth admiring and caring for. Put more bluntly, it made her wet as fuck.

Ivy walked a full circle around her nude form, occasionally reaching out and trailing slender fingers across her skin. Her expression was one of absolute focus.

"Here's what's going to happen," she hummed in Willa's ear. "You're going to lie down on the edge of the bed. You're going to spread those adorable little legs of yours. And then I am going to drive you wild. Understood?"