Page 22 of How to Love a Rockstar

“You drive me crazy,” she grumbles before starting to march to the apartment building again.

When we arrive at the building, she pauses with her hand on the outside door. “We’re here. You can go back to your life again.”

I frown. Go back to my life? This is my life.

I’m obviously not going to win any arguments with her today. I don’t want to argue at all. No matter how cute she is when she’s mad.

I motion to the door. “Get into the building and I’ll leave you alone.”

She starts for the inside but once again pauses on the threshold. “Thank you for walking me home, Dylan.”

And with those softly spoken kind words she reels me back in again. Hook, line, and sinker.

“You’re welcome, Virginia. Sleep well.”

I wait until she climbs the stairs and is out of view before heading back to the bar. I need to come up with a plan to convince her to give me a chance. But until I do, persistence is the name of the game.

Chapter 9

Yoga class – the last place Virginia expected to get kicked out of

Virginia

“Ican’t believe you’re making me do this,” I whine as Indigo drags me down Main Street. Okay, fine. She’s not literally dragging me, but it sure feels like she is.

“Trust me. You’ll love yoga. It helps with your flexibility. Super handy if you know what I mean.” She waggles her eyebrows.

I pretend to not understand her sexual innuendo. “I guess if it’ll help me to reach the top shelf of a bookcase, I’ll give it a try.”

Indigo bumps my shoulder. “Not what I meant and you know it.”

“And you know I have no need to be flexible.”

“If you’d let a certain blond rocker into your life, you would.”

I glare at her. “Never gonna happen.”

“Why don’t you tell him what happened in high school?”

“Because reliving the biggest humiliation in my life is not on my agenda.” Not to mention how our history is helping me keep Dylan at arm’s length.

“You are beyond stubborn.”

I snort. “Says the woman who still sends our math teacher hate mail for giving her a B minus in tenth grade.”

She sniffs. “Bad reviews are not the same as hate mail. Besides, I deserved an A. A B plus at the very least.”

“Stubborn,” I mutter.

“Pot, meet kettle.” She raises her eyebrows and waits for me to contradict her. I don’t disappoint her.

“I am not stubborn. Refusing to do what you want me to doesn’t make me stubborn.”

She points at me. “You literally just defined stubborn.”

“Whatever,” I mumble and open the door to the yoga studio,Earth Bliss.Doing yoga has to be better than listening to Indigo order me around.

“You came!” a woman with curly blonde hair screams.

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