Page 59 of One More Made Up Love Song
“Actually, practicing isn’t a bad idea,” Freddie says. “If we’re going to sell this, it would probably help to have a conversation about how we’re going to act around each other. How much touching is too much, that sort of thing.” He looks at me and grins. “For the record, you leaning against me in the car isnottoo much touching for me.”
I swallow, embarrassed enough to want to hide and hating that we’re talking about this with Carina present. Freddie is far more immune to having private conversations with members of his team listening, but now thatIam the subject of said private conversation, I would rather crawl through the desert naked than talk about how much touching is acceptable when my little sister is listening in.
“Right. We should for sure talk about it,” I say. “Set some ground rules. Maybe we can discuss it on the plane?” I tilt my head toward Carina and shoot Freddie a pleading look.
“Just talk about it now,” Carina says. “I promise I won’t listen, if that would make it easier.” She makes a show of pulling her headphones out of her bag and putting them on. I look toward the front of the car, but the driver has already raised the privacy screen. It isn’t completely soundproof, but it at least gives us the illusion of a private conversation.
Freddie’s expression sobers, losing the playful edge frommoments before. “It’s important to me that you set the boundaries here. I’m the one who got you into this mess, and I’m grateful for your help. But I don’t want to take advantage or ever make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Freddie, I’m not worried about that,” I say without thinking. Because it’s true. I feel safe with Freddie in every single respect. “I trust you.”
He nods. “Good. So how do we feel about occasional touching? Handholding? Small gestures? Can we assume those are always welcome?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
“Good,” Freddie says. “What about kissing?”
Carina leans forward and looks around me at Freddie. “I think you can’t really sell it if you don’t kiss.”
“You aren’t supposed to be listening!” I say.
“Sorry, sorry!” she says as she leans back again.
To Freddie’s credit, his eyes don’t leave my face. “What do you think?”
I lick my lips. “Kissing is…” I have no idea how to answer this question. Iwantto kiss Freddie. Of course I do. But I’d rather it be real. Kissing him for less than genuine reasons feels like a chocolate chip cookie without chocolate chips. It might still taste sweet, but it’s not nearly as delicious.
Then again, I’ve never been able to say no to any kind of cookie. Chocolate chips or not.
“Kissing is fine,” I say. “But maybe we can talk about it first? Or you can give me a signal or something. So I know to expect it.”
“A signal,” Freddie says. “I like that. What should it be?”
“You could scratch your nose,” Carina says. “Or tug on your earlobe.”
I roll my eyes and reach over to tug off her headphones.If she isn’t going to pretend to give us privacy, I’m not going to pretend either.
“Let’s avoid our noses,” Freddie says. “Too easy for that to look like something else.”
I press my lips together, fighting a laugh. Two years ago, the internet blew up for weeks when a picture of Freddie went viral. He was absolutely just scratching his nose in the photo, but itlookedlike he was picking his nose, and gossip sites thought it was hilarious.
Freddie was a good sport about it, but the whole thing made meeternallygrateful that I’ve never been subject to so much scrutiny. The thought sends a wave of discomfort washing over me as I remember that I no longer have that luxury. I’ll never garner the attention Freddie does. But I’ll never be able to blend into the background of his life like I did before.
“The earlobe, then?” I ask.
“Works for me,” Freddie says. “No kissing unless we warn each other with a tug on the earlobe first.”
“And only if we feel like it’s absolutely necessary,” I add, my self-preservation instincts finally kicking in. “If we need to kiss to sell the relationship, then we can. But no kissing just for fun.”
Something like disappointment flickers across Freddie’s expression, but I’m not entirely sure I didn’t imagine it before he wipes a hand across his face and nods, his face neutral again.
“Good. I agree,” he says. “What about moving out? Should you hold off on that for the time being?”
“You’re moving out?” Carina asks, and I wince. “You didn’t tell me that!”
“Oops,” Freddie says, catching my gaze. “Sorry.”
“I’m thinking about it,” I say, looking over at my sister. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t have any actual concrete plans. Either way, you’re right,” I say, turning back to Freddie. “I shouldn’t until this whole thing is behind us.”
