Page 21 of One More Made Up Love Song
Behind us, the dressing room door bursts open, and Seth strides in. I jump back from Ivy, though I don’t really have a reason to. We weren’t doing anything wrong, but somehow, it still feels like we were caught.
Seth’s eyes move around the room, finally settling on Wren, who is still sitting at the vanity, glasses perched on her nose as she sews on a button.
I forgot she was even in the room.
Because I forgot everything.
Everything but Ivy and the way she looked as she studied my body, used her fingertips to trace my skin.
“I lost a button,” I say to Seth, because that’s easier than admitting what’s really going through my mind right now.
“Should I go out there and tell that to your fans?” Seth asks dryly. “There won’t be a concert tonight because of a missing button?”
“There will definitely be a concert,” Wren says, holding up the shirt. “Button is fixed. He’ll be fully dressed in less than two minutes.” She motions Seth toward the door with a shooing motion. “Now go and let me work my magic.”
“Two minutes,” Seth repeats, then he disappears out the door, motioning for Ivy to follow him.
I make quick work of getting out of my street clothes and into the rest of my wardrobe. Pale blue suit pants with a high waist and a wide hem, boots, bracelets, necklace, and a matching suit jacket I will absolutely lose after two, possibly three songs.
“Good?” I ask Wren as she adjusts my jacket collar. She reaches up and unbuttons two more buttons so a little more of my chest tattoos are visible.
“Perfect,” she says.
“You’re the best, Wren,” I say, meaning every word. I generally keep my concert wardrobe pretty simple, but Wren is constantly working to improve and perfect what I wear, and I never want her efforts to be underappreciated.
Seth reappears in the dressing room doorway, and now Charlie, my stage manager, is with him, clipboard in hand and eyes glued to his watch.
Ivy appears on the other side of Seth and hands me a water bottle, but there’s something off about her body language, and she won’t make eye contact.
I hesitate, wanting to make sure she’s okay, but Charlie isn’t going to tolerate any delays.
“No, he’s coming now,” he says into his headset. “Bring the mic. We’ll put it on him while he walks.”
I glance at Ivy one more time, trying and failing to make eye contact.
It’s probably nothing. Or maybe she’s feeling the same weird vibe I am?
Whatever it is, I’ll have to sort it out later.
Because right now, it’s go time.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ivy
“Um,is there something you want to tell me?” Wren asks as she picks up Freddie’s discarded clothes.
“Like what?” I say, knowing as soon as the words are out of my mouth that my attempt at nonchalance probably sounds a lot more like guilt.
“Ivy,” Wren says, clearly seeing right through me. “What was that? Is there something happening between you and Freddie?”
I roll my eyes. At least I can be honest about this part. “Absolutely not.”
“Then why are you acting so weird?”
I look down at my hands. I’ve been mindlessly shifting around a collection of water bottles on top of the mini fridge in Freddie’s dressing room, reorganizing them from five to a row to three to a row, then back to five again.
I force my hands to still and look up at Wren, who isstudying me with pursed lips, her arms folded across her chest. “I’m not acting weird,” I say.
