Page 67 of One More Made Up Love Song
“Hey, you got a sec?” I ask.
He turns, halfway through a yawn. “Always for you,” he says. “What’s up?”
There are only two bedrooms on the main floor of Freddie’s house—his and mine. Everyone else has gone upstairs, and Carina is already in my room taking a shower, so it’s just the two of us in the small alcove outside his bedroom door.
He leans against the wall and runs his hands through hishair, leaving it completely askew, pointing in a dozen different directions. His hairstyle is naturally a little messy, but this looks more like bedhead than the artfully mussed look he usually wears.
Not in a bad way, though. In asexyway. Here, in his house, he’s a little undone, a little less polished. And I get to see him that way. I get to stand here and look into his green eyes and be the last person he talks to before he goes to sleep.
“What are you smiling about?” he says, his tone light, almost teasing.
I let out a little chuckle and lift my hand to his hair, smoothing down the wildest parts. “You just made your hair completely ridiculous.”
He grins. “I did it for you. Just to entertain you.”
His eyes close, and he slumps against the wall a little, like my fingers in his hair might lull him to sleep right here in the hallway.
It’s all I can do tostoptouching him, but once his hair is tamed again, I let my hand fall. Before everything happened, I might not have stopped. But now, I’m weighing every action, wondering if he’ll read into things differently. It’s exhausting. And silly, really. If anything, faking gives me an excuse to touch himmore.
But my feelings are too close to the surface. Every inch I give him, the more worried I am that he’ll see through the facade and recognize thisisn’tfake to me. When I touch him, take care of him, it’s because I want to.
“So, I’m wondering how things are going to look the next few days,” I finally manage to ask.
He opens his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Work-wise, I guess. Like, do you want me to go to thestudio with you tomorrow? I only ask because you reached out to the housekeeper about the guys coming early, and that’s something I would normally do. I don’t want you to think I can’t do my job just because we’re…also doing this other thing.”
He nods, like he fully understands my question. “Yeah, not gonna lie. It feels weird to ask you to do stuff now. Bossing you around—I don’t know. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“But I’m not your real girlfriend, Freddie. And I’m still getting paid, so I shouldn’t stop doing what I usually do. Besides, you never boss me around. You ask me to do stuff, and you always ask nicely. That’s different. Honestly, most of the time, I’m the one bossingyouaround.”
He chuckles, then his voice drops deliciously low when he says, “I like it when you boss me around.”
Heat flushes my skin, coiling low in my belly, and I clench my fists, willing my body not to respond. I drop my eyes and force a slow, steadying breath.
How does he do this to me with just a few words? The man will be my undoing.
“Sorry,” he says. “That probably sounded?—”
“It’s fine,” I say, waving a hand dismissively. “I know what you meant.”
I’m not sure I really do, but I’ll happily change the subject if it will distract him from noticing the warmth I can still feel in my cheeks.
“So…tomorrow?” I say.
“Right. Tomorrow.” He studies me for a long moment. “What do you want to do? Do you want to come to the studio?”
I bite my lip. Of course I want to go. But it’s probably thelast thing I need. Watching him work is almost as addictive as watching him snuggle babies.
“I’ll absolutely be there if you think you’ll need me,” I say. “But if not, it might be nice to spend some time with Carina.”
“You should do that, then,” Freddie says.
“I can still take care of stuff,” I quickly say. “I’ll stay on top of texts and emails and everything else. And if you need anything while you’re there, you can just call?—”
“Hey,” he says, cutting me off. “It’ll be fine. You never take time off. You should.”
I nod, feeling both relieved and disappointed at the same time.
