Page 54 of One More Made Up Love Song
“After that, I thought we could review the press release Kat sent over. While you’re eating. Does that work?”
Ivy has shifted into work mode, which…of course she has. The hours immediately before a concert are busy for us both. But it still feels odd for her to be focusing on her regular job while I’m sitting here wondering if I should hold her hand when we get out of the SUV.
“Yep. Sounds good,” I agree, swallowing all my other concerns.
She shifts in her seat, making a note on her phone, and I catch the scent of her—something floral and a little fruity. Whatever it is, I really like it.
“You smell good,” I say without really thinking about it. “Is it something new?”
Her cheeks turn the palest shade of pink. “Oh, uh—no. Just not something I wear all that often. It isn’t too much?”
“It’s amazing,” I say, and she bites her lip. Usually, Ivy’s approach to her wardrobe, at least when it comes to shows, is entirely practical. She wears a lot of sneakers and hoodies. Band t-shirts. Jeans. She probably logs a million miles every concert taking care of everything that needs to be done. She dresses for comfort, and I wouldn’t expect anything different.
She’s still in jeans today, but she’s wearing a tank top that hugs her curves and a black leather jacket I’ve never seen before. She’s also wearing earrings, just visible through the dark curls framing her face. And does she have on more makeup than usual?
She looks really good. Like, turn-my-head-on-the-street good.
“What?” she says, lifting her hands to cover her face. “Is it too much? You’re staring at me like it’s too much.”
“No!” I quickly say. “You look amazing. Just different.”
She peeks through her fingers. “Really? You aren’t just saying that?”
“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”
“Yes, you would,” she says. “You’re nice enough that you’d absolutely lie to me to spare my feelings.”
“Okay, probably,” I say, “but I promise that’s not what I’m doing now. You really do look nice.” I reach over and wrap my hands around her wrists, tugging them from her face. “Now stop or you might mess it all up.”
She lets me tug her hands down, but then she huffs out a sigh, dislodging one of her curls and tossing it askew.
I shift her hands so I’m holding them both with one of mine, then lift the other to her face, sliding the curl away from her cheek.
She holds my gaze for a long moment, and something turns over behind my ribs.
“I think I just thought,” she finally says, but then she hesitates, her tongue darting out to slide along her bottom lip. I squeeze her hand, urging her to continue in the only way I know how. She takes a deep breath. “If people are speculating about us being together, I guess I just…wanted to make sure I look the part.”
It hadn’t even occurred to me that our fake relationship might have something to do with Ivy’s extra effort, but now that she’s said it out loud, it makes perfect sense. Not that sheneededto make an extra effort. She always looks amazing, something I still feel stupid for never truly noticing until now. But I get it. She’s never had the spotlight on her before—not really. And she definitely will now.
“You look amazing,” I say, rubbing my thumb across the back of her hand. “Truly.”
If Wayne turned around and told us we were stuck in traffic and it was going to be another four hours before we arrived at the concert venue, I wouldn’t mind it. That’s how much I’d like to sit right here, Ivy’s hand in mine, and stare into her eyes. But then the SUV rolls to a stop, and Wayne unbuckles his seatbelt.
A lot of venues have underground parking garages so we can get inside without having to walk past any public areas, but here, we’re in a narrow parking lot in an alleyway beside the arena. Maybe twenty yards away, a barrier blocks the alley from the sidewalk, and a security officer stands guard. Fans are lined up on the other side of the barrier, and I can already hear their screams. They can’t know for sure I’m the one inside the SUV, but based on the volume of their cheers, they seem pretty confident in their guesswork.
When I first started touring, I might have walked the short distance to the barrier and spent some time signing autographs and taking photos, but these days, the security it requires to make that happen is more headache than it’s worth. I can already hear Wayne listing off the reasons why it isn’t a good idea.
But Kat’s words are still fresh in my mind. Maybe I can’t interact with the crowd, but they could at least see me and Ivy together.
“We should hold hands,” she says before I can suggest it. She’s staring out the window at the gathered fans, but as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she turns and looks back at me. “Maybe you could stop and wave?”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”
She shrugs. “It’s the plan, right? Also, you just told me I lookamazing,Freddie. If fans are going to take pictures of us every chance they get, I’d rather it happen now when I don’t look like a bridge troll.”
I huff out a laugh. “You could never look like a bridge troll.”
“Trust me. I can.” She holds out her palm face up, and I thread my fingers through hers.
