Page 62 of How to Love a Rockstar

“Probably because you used to hide in the dark corners to make out with Lyric,” someone from behind her mutters.

Aspen beams. “It’s true.” She waves her left hand at me. “Lyric and I are married now.”

“Gag.” The woman behind her feigns throwing up.

“Ignore my sister. It’s what I do.” She motions to the chairs set in a circle. “Find a seat. There’s wine and nibbles at the bar.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Bar?”

“It’s not really a bar. It’s the check-out counter.”

Someone hollers her name and she bustles away.

Indigo steers me toward the bar. “Aren’t you glad you came now?”

My stomach rumbles in agreement. I didn’t have a chance to eat dinner yet. I scan the bar laden with food. I’m glad I haven’t eaten.

I make a plate of cheese, sausage, and crackers and grab a bottle of beer.

“Let’s sit there.” Indigo points to two chairs near the door.

Darn it. Now, I can’t be mad at her. She knows I’m uncomfortable and want to be near the exit in case I need to escape.

The door bangs open and Sage marches in followed by the rest of the gossip gals. “Sorry we’re late.”

I tuck my chin into my chest and concentrate on my food before they spot me. I do not want to know what they’re up to now. Those women scare the snot out of me.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Feather insists.

“You’re the one who forgot to buy the fabric paint,” Clove points out.

“At least I didn’t wash the sweatshirts in itchy fabric softener,” Feather says.

Petal holds up her hands. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“It’s okay,” Aspen greets them. “We haven’t begun yet.”

“Good.” Sage nods. “You ready, gossip gals?” At their nod, she counts down. “Three, two, one.”

They open their sweaters to reveal bright pink t-shirts with the sayingI read smut. What’s your superpower?on them.

“I want one of those.”

“Oh good. You’re here,” Sage says and I realize I spoke aloud. Great. The gossip gals are zeroed in on me now.

“I’ll make you a t-shirt,” Cayenne says.

Sage holds up a hand. “We’ll discuss t-shirts later. First, I want to know what’s holding you back.”

I point to myself. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Holding me back from what?”

“Dylan.”

“I’m not holding back from Dylan. We’re dating.”

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