Page 25 of One More Made Up Love Song
“I didn’t even have to tell you, and you still knew what I wanted.”
“I did,” I say. Because I always do.
He unwraps his burger and takes a huge bite, then lets out a low groan. “Ivy, I love you with my whole entire soul.”
I stumble at his words, catching myself on the back of the chair sitting opposite the sofa.
He looks up. “You okay?”
“Yep!” I say, my voice a little too high. “Just…tripped on the rug.” I walk to the mini fridge at the wet bar against the wall and pull out a water bottle, twisting the cap off as I walk it back to him.
“Marry me?” Freddie says as he takes the water, and I force myself to roll my eyes, even as a tiny pinch registers somewhere in the back of my heart.
I don’t know why I thought things might be different after what happened in his dressing room earlier, but this is a joke he’s made a thousand times. The fact he’ll still make it has to mean the interaction didn’t register for him the same way it did for me.
Which sucks because the deeper myrealfeelings become, the harder it is to hear him joke about having fake ones.
I sit down across from him, forcing myself to act normal. To pretend like there isn’t anything about this interaction that hurts. “I’m too good for you, Freddie,” I say, and he grins.
“Truest words you’ve ever spoken.”
“Have you heard back from your parents?” I ask. We have a Seattle show coming up, and Freddie asked me to keep a private box open for them just in case, but I’ll eat my favorite Converse if they actually show up. This won’t be the first time he’s played Seattle, and they never come.
He frowns before taking another enormous bite of his burger. “Yeah. Mom texted back. They’ve got something going on that night.”
“Of course they do,” I say dryly. “One of Harold’s tournaments?”
“Some sort of faculty something. I don’t know. She didn’t give me much detail. It’s fine. It would probably stress me out to have them there. I’d worry about them, and then I’dget all up in my head, and the show would suck, and for what? It’s honestly easier this way.”
I cross my arms, letting out a frustrated huff. I hate the way his parents treat him. Like he’s barely an afterthought.
He looks up and chuckles. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“I just hate it for you,” I say. “It’s not fair that they’re so entirely indifferent.”
“I’ll take indifference over disdain,” he says. “Trust me. It could be so much worse.” He pulls his fries out of the food bag and shoves a few in his mouth. After a show, he tends to eat like he’s starving, but then, even a meal like this probably doesn’t come close to making up for the calories he burned while performing.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks around another bite of food. “You seem like something else is bothering you.”
“Yeah,” I say, but Freddie doesn’t look convinced. “Just thinking about my sister.”
“You’re worried about her.” He says this like a statement, not a question, and I lean back into my chair, breathing out a sigh.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I say.
“We can talk about whatever you want.” He offers me a cheese curd. “But you’ll feel better if you tell me what’s on your mind.”
I look at Freddie, his green eyes wide and sincere, and for a split second I imagine telling him the truth. Five words.
I’m in love with you.
I hold my breath until my logical mind squashes the impulse, the words dissolving on my tongue before I can say them out loud. As liberating as it would be to own that particular truth, there’s too much at stake. And I’m too certain the feeling isn’t mutual.
So I settle on a different truth—one that’s been occupying almost as much of my bandwidth as my unrequited feelings.
“When I was little, we used to go to Dollywood every summer.” I tug a throw pillow out from behind me and pull it to my chest, wrapping my arms around it like it’s some sort of shield. “One year, I was maybe eleven or twelve—I’m not sure exactly how old—but I remember that year because Carina was finally tall enough to ride this one specific roller coaster. She was so excited, and she kept bouncing back and forth between me and Daphne, talking nonstop about who would sit next to her and how long the wait would be and if it would be scary when the ride went upside down.”
“Was it?” Freddie asks. He takes a long drink of his water. “Did you like roller coasters?”
