Page 4 of One More Made Up Love Song
“You don’t know that it wouldn’t have been a big deal,” I say. “You’ve dealt with unpredictable fans before.”
I’m not being fair to him.
I know I’m not.
I mean, things really could have gone sideways—they sometimes do—but I’m self-aware enough to recognize that’s not why I’m being so hard on him.
“Just stay here, okay? I’m going to go check out. Then I’ll ask the employee if she can let us out the back door. I’ll text Wayne and have them pull around to meet us there.”
“Ivy, I really don’t think—” Freddie starts.
“Don’t move,” I say, cutting him off, then I turn and head toward the front of the store. At the end of the aisle, I look back and whisper-yell, “And put your hood up!”
Freddie scowls, but he does as I ask and pulls his hood over the top of his hat.
I'm probably being ridiculous, but the whole encounter has me flustered and off balance, and neither of those are feelings I can afford right now. I have a job to do, and while keeping Freddie safe isn’t my primary responsibility and he is a grown man accountable for his own actions, I’m also responsible formyactions.
In that regard, I probably shouldn’t have pretended to make out with my boss. But it was an extenuating circumstance. A spur-of-the-moment emergency situation. And it worked. I saved Freddie from curious fans, and everything is fine.
At least on the surface, anyway.
I reach my abandoned cart and wheel it up to the lone worker at the front of the store. I was hoping for self-checkout, but the kiosk is closed, so I dump my purchases onto the counter and do my best to avoid eye contact.
“Did you find everything you need?” the employee asks as she rings up Freddie’s Starburst.
I force myself to smile. “Sure did,” I say, but the answer isn’t even a little bit true.
I didn’t even come close.
CHAPTER TWO
Freddie
I poura handful of Starburst Minis into my hand and sort out the yellow and orange from the pink and red. Ivy wordlessly holds out her palm to collect the unwanted colors.
“I don’t know how you eat that stuff,” Wayne says from the couch across from us. We’re in the lounge space at the front of the tour bus on parallel bench seats under the windows on either side.
“I don’t know how you don’t,” I say to my very grouchy security guard.
“Sorry, Wayne,” Ivy says as she tosses back a handful. “I’m with Freddie on this one.”
It’s nice to hear Ivy say something positive. For the last half hour, ever since we left CVS, she’s been cagey and more defensive than usual. I realize I made her job harder by wandering inside when she and Wayne both told me to stay on the bus. But it was two a.m., and the parking lot wasempty. How was I supposed to know a couple of fans were wandering the aisles?
“Can we stock up then?” Wayne asks. “To avoid late-night snack runs?”
“Not a bad idea,” I say as I toss back another handful. “Though I can’t promise I won’t crave something else next time.” I nudge Ivy’s knee. “It’ll be fine. Ivy’s quick thinking saved me tonight. It will next time too.” It’s a little pointed, as far as compliments go, but I want more evidence that Ivy is okay—that she isn’t still upset with me. As much as we tease and banter and joke about getting on each other’s nerves, I care about what Ivy thinks.
“What does that mean?” Wayne asks before Ivy can respond. “Quick thinking? I thought you just hid in the diaper aisle until the fans left.”
I grin. “Wehid. Both of us together,” I say, watching Ivy, who seems much too focused on her phone. “And pretended to make out to throw them off our trail.”
“Okay,” Ivy finally says, dropping her phone onto the cushion beside her. “Do we really have to talk about it? I did what I had to do, and it wasn’t a big deal because you and me would never actually work.”
“What? Why?” I ask, suddenly feeling defensive. Not that it truly matters. I don’t have feelings for Ivy—we’ve only ever been friends. But I’m weirdly insulted that she’s so sure we couldn’t be more, even in a hypothetical sense.
“Because I know too much about you,” Ivy says, though she’s acting weirdly cagey, like she’s intentionally avoiding eye contact. “Plus, you’re completely insufferable.”
“I am not,” I say as I pour another handful of Starburst into Ivy’s hands. “Oh, wait…you got two red ones. I want those back.”
