Page 36 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
“Okay, that sounds terrible. But,” she whined, pressing her forehead against my chest, “I didn’t sign up for this. I hate this.”
“I know,” I sighed.
“So, what do we do?”
I rested my chin on her head. “How do you feel about posting someauthenticcouple pictures of us?”
She stilled. “How authentic are we talking here?”
I tried not to let myself think about all the delicious possibilities, knowing how Ivy would feel about it.
“Enough to make the rumors go away.”
Silence stretched between us. She knew enough about my world to understand what I was asking.
I closed my eyes, visions of finally tasting Ivy’s lips dancing through my head. Did that make me a cad?
Ivy leaned away, searching my face as if looking for the answer, bewilderment and fear etched into her features. What was she so afraid of?
As if she could read my mind, she whispered, “I don’t want to ruin us.”
Damn.Her words carried a TKO kind of punch. Yet they also confirmed to me that she had thought about us crossing the line of friendship. And she was afraid of what was on the other side of that line.
How did I make her feel safe there?
That was a question I didn’t have an answer to.
But I knew this. “Believe me, Ivy, that’s the last thing I want. I’ll just tell Tori to release a statement denying the accusations.”
Ivy let out a breath and fell against me. “Thank you.”
I held her as tight as I could, feeling gutted that she was thanking me when she should hate me. I wanted to tell her the truth, but it was obvious—she preferred the lie.
The lie that we were just friends.
Chapter Eleven
“When you’re in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, ‘Damn, that was fun.’”
Groucho Marx
Ivy
Theuniversewasconspiringagainst me. And the universe’s name was Sienna. Out of all the days she could have gone ice-skating, she chose that day? It was like she knew Jack and I were going to be there, and she wanted to see firsthand how her rumors were wrecking us.
Well, she was about to get a front rowseat.
I now understood exactly why women engaged in catfights, slapping each other and hurling verbal assaults. Until that moment, I’d never wanted to claw someone’s eyes out. But Sienna’s amber eyes, which gleamed with malice and stared at me from a nearby bench as she laced up her skates, her girl gang at her side, looked ripe for clawing.
Not that I would ever actually engage in a physical altercation, but I now at least understood the rage and how people could snap.
If she did anything to ruin my friendship with Jack, I would . . .
Well . . .
I didn’t know what I would do to her.
WhatcouldI actually do to her besides pretend like she wasn’t making me have a nervous breakdown?
