ivy ; malachi barton

chapter eighteen ; you're on your own kid

"i hosted parties and starved my body like i'd be saved by a perfect kiss." YOYOK; taylor swift

evelyn

"I'm not hungry."

"Evy. It's bacon."

"I'll take a coffee?"

Milo rolled his eyes at me as I walked past him in the kitchen, strolling right up to the espresso machine instead of taking the plate from his hand.

"More for me." The man giggled, stuffing half the piece of bread in his mouth. I sent him a teasing smile as I took the oat milk out of the fridge.

Malachi sat at the kitchen island, silently, watching as I stood in front of him. He was still and cold, showing not emotion on his face. His expression didn't waver until I glared at him.

"What?" I said, more harshly than I intended. I giggled a little afterwards to soften the blow.

The red headed boy shook his head, averting his gaze from me. "Nothing, don't worry."

I shifted uncomfortably, turning my back to him as I worked the machine. Eventually I was able to crank a good sized mug out of the thing, and I carried it over to stand beside Milo.

"Morning!" Sway announced herself, exiting our room. My heart skipped a beat as I saw what she was holding.

My plate. From last night.

With the uneaten sandwich.

I felt Malachis gaze harden instantly. He was way more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for - I didn't feel like I could do anything under his watch without being examined.

"I guess I'll chuck this out?" Sway said, indicating towards the sandwich. "I wouldn't imagine you'd want to eat an un-refrigerator-ed chicken sandwich."

"Yeah, that's fine." I said, clearing my throat. She smiled, throwing the food in the bin. She thought nothing of it. Milo didn't even flinch. MK and Julian continued to crunch down on their morning toast. But Malachi...

I couldn't escape his glare.

I was starting to feel sick. I didn't want to enter this cycle again. You need to eat. You'll die. I know. You think that will stop me? Your body is perfect. You've got nothing to worry about. Yes, because that solves the problem. My problem is I can't see perfect. Perfect doesn't exist on me.

Ready to start drying heaving, I quickly strolled out of the kitchen. I retreated to my bedroom, sipping hastily on my coffee as I got ready to have a shower. The lightheadedness was starting to get to me; I had to waiting for a second to regain my posture before I stood up from my suitcase.

Grabbing my clothes, I walked into the connected bathroom. I placed my things down on the counter, turning back to lock the door.

Unfortunately, a certain red-headed boy stood, leaning on the door frame.

"I'm showering." I bluntly said, my face growing hot.

"Not yet." I observed, looking me up and down. The gaze he gave me told me that he would probably prefer if I was.

"Well, I'm going to." I stiffly smiled, waking towards him, thinking that he'd step back and let me close the door on him. Why would I make that fatal misjudgment?

"I need to talk to you first." Malachi sternly said, stepping into the bathroom.

I harshly sighed, halting, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm good, thank you."