Page 70 of One More Made Up Love Song
That makesmehappy, but I still feel like I’m holding my breath. Like we’re building a house out of straw, and when the whole thing collapses, I’ll be the one standing in the middle of the wreckage.
On the morning of the party at Voltage Records, I stretch across the foot of my bed while Carina goes through my clothes, trying to find something for me to wear.
“Are these seriously your only options?” she asks. She steps out of my closet holding all three of the only dresses I actually own. “None of these will work. They’re all too casual.”
“The partyiscasual,” I say.
“No,” Carina says. “The party isn’tformal.That doesn’t mean you can wear jeans and a t-shirt.” She moves back into the closet and hangs up the dresses. “Why have we not talked about this? We could have bought something this week. We went shopping multiple times.”
“Shopping foryou,” I say. “Which is different. I hate shopping for me.” I reach for the black dress hanging in the middle. “I’ll just wear this one. I pair it with my red leather jacket and my boots. It’s a great outfit.”
Carina props her hands on her hips. “It’s eighty-five degrees out. You can’t wear leather to this party.” She starts pacing across the wood floor of my bedroom, reaching the plush rug that sits under my bed before turning and heading back to the closet.
“Just the dress, then,” I say. “It’ll be fine. I managed to dress myself the other two times I went out with Freddie this week. And nobody said anything about my clothes.”
“But this is different,” Carina says. “This isn’t a small, private gathering. This is a party where the goal is to see and be seen. Not to mention the fact that the party is at Voltage Records. That means you’ll have the opportunity to network, to meet people who you hope you’ll be working for when all of this is over.”
My gut tightens the slightest bit. I hadn’t thought about networking, but Carina is right. If that’s what I want, the party really could be an opportunity to nurture some connections. Butis itwhat I want?
Finding clarity on that point is basically impossible considering my present circumstances. It hurts to think about not working for Freddie, but I’m not entirely sure if that’s because I don’t want to leave my job or I just don’t want to leave him. Either way, making a little extra effort tonight can’t hurt.
“Right. Networking,” I say. “So I need something that’s both professional enough to be taken seriously but also fabulous enough to look like I belong on the arm of the world’s biggest popstar. I guess weshouldhave gone shopping.”
“Shopping for what?”
I look up to see Freddie standing in my open bedroom doorway, his long arms lifted over his head and his hands grasping the door frame.
“An outfit for Ivy to wear to the party tonight,” Carina answers for me. “Please tell her she can’t wear her plain black dress that she’s already worn a million trillion times.”
Freddie’s eyes shift to me before he says, “I love her black dress. But also, that’s why I’m here.”
I sit up. “It is?”
“I promised I would help you pick out something for the movie premiere, so I thought we could do that today. Then Natasha can help you choose something for tonight too.”
“Yes!” Carina says. “Perfect. Wait. Who’s Natasha?”
“My stylist,” Freddie says. “And she just pulled up with a van full of clothes. Should I tell her to set up in here?”
Carina spins to look at me. “The shopping comes to you? This is incredible.” She spins and races from the room, likely to watch Natasha and her team bring everything inside.
This is less overwhelming for me because I’ve seen herdo this for Freddie. But it does feel weird to know it’s me who will be trying on the clothes this time.
“Wren’s here too,” Freddie says, finally coming into the room. “When she heard it wasyougetting styled, she didn’t want to miss out on the action.”
When Wren isn’t on tour with Freddie, handling his wardrobe needs for his shows, she works out of Natasha’s studio. It’ll be good to see her again, though I can already imagine herI told you soface. She was relentless in her teasing during the last few tour stops before the break. Every time Freddie and I were in the same room, she was shooting me knowing looks and raising her eyebrows suggestively.
It was always good-natured and completely harmless. But that doesn’t mean she won’t gloat.
Freddie sits down on the bench at the foot of my bed. “I hope this isn’t too much,” he says, a hint of vulnerability in his tone. “I just thought you deserved the whole experience. Natasha has someone coming for hair and makeup too—tonight, then again for the premiere. But you don’t have to do that part if you don’t want to. I’m not saying youneedhair and makeup. Just that it’s available if youdowant it.” He rubs his palms down his thighs like he’s nervous. Which—ishe nervous? I don’t know why he would be.
“It isn’t too much,” I say. “It’s amazing. And the hair and makeup is great too. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You don’t need any help.”
My heart flutters in my chest. “I don’t?”
Freddie holds my gaze for a long moment. “You’re beautiful exactly as you are.” His voice is low, his tone sincere, giving his words a weight that assures me he isn’t feeding me a line. He really thinks I’m beautiful. Which. Maybe he’s justmaking an objective observation. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
