Page 18 of One More Made Up Love Song
“Because one day, you’re going to meet someone. You’ll fall in love. Maybe you’ll get married. Get a dog. Have a couple of kids. You’ll have a whole life. And I will not be that important to you.” I take a step forward, crouching down the slightest bit to catch her downward gaze, to implore her to look at me. “I’m just a guy, Leah. I love that you love my music. That means the world to me. And your artwork—it’s amazing. But if you get more ink, get something that speaks toyou.Something that mapsyourhistory. Not mine.”
She takes a deep breath. “I’ve never thought of it like that.” Her expression is earnest when she asks, “Is that what yours do? Your tattoos map your history?”
I nod. “Moments. People. They all remind me of something that matters to me.”
“Freddie, the time,” Ivy repeats. “Mellow Mood just took the stage.”
I nod, then look back at Leah. “Want to get that picture?”
“Yes! Definitely,” Leah says. She pulls out her phone and hands it to Ivy, then steps up next to me. “Thanks for the advice,” she says after Ivy snaps a few photos. “I appreciate it.”
As soon as Leah is gone, Ivy hands me a water bottle and motions toward a back door that will keep us away from any fans. “Sorry for rushing you,” she says. “We’re fifteen minutes over schedule, and Seth is seconds away from completely losing his mind.”
“He always thinks I need more downtime than I do,” I say as I follow her out the door. “I’ll be fine.” I fall into step beside her as we head down the hall toward my dressing room.
“Maybe,” she says. “But it’s also nice to let your fans see the opening act. Maybe they aren’t just here to see you.”
I shoot her a cheeky grin, and she rolls her eyes.
“Fine. They’remostlyjust here to see you, but on principle, it’s still the courteous thing to do.” We walk in silence for a beat before she adds, “You gave her good advice, by the way. The woman with all the tattoos.”
I look over to meet her eyes, serious this time. “Yeah?” Fame can be trippy in both good and bad ways. But to see someone so young put permanent ink on her body just to match me—it was pretty unnerving.
Ivy nods. “It has to feel weird to see that. Like a responsibility you didn’t ask for.” We reach my dressing room door, and she spins around to face me, leaning her back against it.
“Yeah,” I say, suddenly noticing how close we’re standing. “That’s a good way to say it.”
Light catches in her brown eyes as she holds my gaze. There’s a dark ring outlining her irises that’s almost black, then the color lightens as it shifts toward a ring of warm honey gold around her pupils.
Ivy’s nose twitches, and she lifts a hand, brushing it across her face. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
I give my head a little shake. Was I staring? I must have been staring, or she wouldn’t be asking. “No, I was just looking at your eyes.”
I push past her into my dressing room, and she follows, heading straight for the mirror on the far wall. She leans close like she’s inspecting her face. “Is there something wrong with them?”
“Why is that the first thing you assume?”
She spins around. “So there isn’t?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why were you looking at them?”
I huff out an awkward laugh even as heat climbs my cheeks. I’ve looked at Ivy thousands of times and never been struck by her eyes, but for whatever reason, tonight, I saw them differently. Inoticedthem. And I’m not sure what that means.
Maybe nothing. But if it’s nothing, why does this conversation suddenly feel so significant?
“Because they’re on your face, and I was looking at you,” I answer.
“You werestaring,” she says. “I’ve always had this face. You’ve never stared like that before.” She spins back around and smiles into the mirror like she’s checking her teeth.
“Ivy,” I say through a chuckle. “Relax. There’s nothing in your teeth, and there’s nothing wrong with your face.”
She turns back around and props her hands on her hips, giving me an expectant look.
I swallow and my heart rate spikes, a burst of nervous adrenaline flooding my system. I’m about to perform in front of a hundred thousand people, and I’m not nervous about that. But the thought of telling Ivy I think her eyes are pretty makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.
I can’t make it make sense.
