Page 39 of Saving Ian Pope

“No problema.” She grabbed a box of sugary cereal instead and crammed her hand inside the box. As she munched, she narrowed her eyes at me. “Good concert?”

“Yeah, it was great.”

“Ivy takes all her dates to see Van when he’s in town.” An orange circle from the cereal was clinging to Chloe’s chin, but she chewed on, oblivious, and I didn’t feel like helping her right now.

I swallowed. “All her dates?”

“What can I say? She loves Van.” She lifted her shoulders to her ears and continued crunching the cereal as if she hadn’t just tilted my entire world off its axis.

“Ivy has a lot of boyfriends? Exes?” I hoped they were exes.

“Boyfriends? Who said anything about boyfriends? Ivy doesn’t do boyfriends—wait, that came out wrong. She doesn’t do the boyfriend thing. Dates a guy for a month or two and then...” Chloe made a fizzing sound with her lips “—gone.”

I counted on my fingers under the table. I wouldn’t even last a month if she didn’t come to England with me. And if she did come with me? Would she leave after a month?

Chloe threw some cereal at me, hitting my face. “Don’t get those sad puppy dog eyes. Things seem be a little different with you.”

I jerked my head up. “Really? How?”

“She’s all over you for one thing.” She crinkled her nose. “I mean, you’re both all over each other, and it’s really annoying.” She waved her hand at the table, scattered with colored bits of cereal. “And all this. She wants to make you comfortable, take care of you, please you. It’s like she’s playing wifey, and I’ve never seen her like that before. I figured it was because you’re a filthy rich popstar.”

“That’s comforting.” I raked a hand through my messy hair.

She leveled a finger at me. “I don’t know why she’s fallen so fast and hard for you. She can’t even get over losing her fucking dog. So, I don’t know what kind of popstar, voodoo bullshit you cast over her because she’s a goner. All this is not usually her thing, but someone can get starry-eyed when face-to-face with her teen idol.”

I opened my mouth to remind Chloe that Ivy had never claimed to be particularly obsessed with me, but Ivy’s voice sliced down the hallway. “Chloe?”

Ivy’s tone sounded anything but caring and comforting, and Chloe put a finger to her lips. “Yep, I’m back, and I’ll tell you everything about that rat bastard once I work off my aggressions at the gym.”

“Can you come in here first, please?”

As Chloe walked past me, I said in a sing-song voice, “Someone’s in trouble.”

Furious whispers skittered into the kitchen before a door slammed. Ivy couldn’t blame me for Chloe’s big mouth. I hadn’t even encouraged her. But she didn’t have anything bad to say about Ivy, and the idea that her feelings seemed to be different for me had raised my hopes that she’d come back to England with me.

I’d forgotten to charge my phone last night, so I left it plugged in on the kitchen table, face down, as I got up to clear my dishes and wash everything in the sink.

Several minutes later, Ivy emerged from the back rooms on a cloud of her musky, floral perfume in a pair of cut-off denim shorts, an off-white body suit, and white trainers on her feet.

She dangled a pink hoodie from her fingertips. “It’s going to be hot and sunny on the trail, but the observatory might be cold. I’ll take a little daypack with water and stuff.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Everything okay with Chloe?”

“She and Trent break up every few months.” She flicked her fingers. “She’s alright.”

From the set of Ivy’s mouth, I could see she was determined to ignore anything she may have overheard Chloe telling me. She was an expert at dismissing anything related to her personal life while mine had played out on center stage across the media.

“That’s...good.” I dried my hands on a dish towel and hung it up. “I’m gonna shower and get dressed. I won’t be too long.”

I nearly bumped into Chloe coming out of the hallway, dressed in workout clothes. She rolled her eyes at me and called out, “I’m off to the gym. Oops, where’s my phone?” She went into the kitchen. “Nope that’s yours.”

Silently, Ivy pointed to Chloe’s phone on the coffee table, and she swept it up. “Bye.”

Ivy remained silent, so I gave Chloe a wave and headed to the bathroom. I showered, did not bother shaving, and put on some shorts and a tank top. After tying my shoes, I grabbed a hoodie, and the LA Dodgers baseball cap Ivy had bought for me—her thoughtfulness always touched me. Chloe hadn’t been wrong about that. Ivy took care of me in a way I didn’t deserve.

“I’m ready, and I have my Dodger hat.” I veered into the kitchen to grab my phone from the charger, but the end of the chord hung off the edge of the table, empty. Had Chloe taken it by mistake?

“Your Dodger hat?”

---