Page 2 of How to Love a Rockstar

“Tell you what.”

Uh oh. Those words are never the bearer of good news.

“If you ask him out, I’ll go with you to that exhibition you’ve been raving about.”

My eyes widen. “You will? It’s at the Getty.”

She shrugs. “Sure. I can drive.”

I study her. She’s not cracking her knuckles or shuffling her feet. In other words, she’s not lying. This is awesome. I’m dying to go to the William Blake exhibition, but the Getty is in LA and I have no way to get there. I don’t have a car and money is tight.

“But you have to ask Dylan to the dance.”

“He’s just going to say no.”

“You don’t know until you ask.” The bell rings. “Gotta go.” She doesn’t rush off, though. Nope. She stares me down. “Ask him.”

I scowl at her back as she saunters off. Easy for her to say. She’s dating the coolest kid in school. Meanwhile, the only date I’ve gone on was with a football player who wanted me to do his English Lit homework for him. He didn’t get an A in English last year.

I slam my locker shut and make my way to the library. Enough about boys. I have a history test I need to study for. Good grades are my ticket out of this town.

“Hey!”

My heartrate increases at Dylan’s shout. But I ignore him. He’s not trying to catch my attention. Why would he?

“Hey, you!”

I slow and scan the hallway. It’s empty except for the two of us. Is he actually speaking the me?

I stop and wait for him to catch up to me.

“M-m-me?” I squeak.

“Indigo said you wanted to speak to me.”

How dare Indigo? She knows I would never ask Dylan out and yet she sends him over to me?

“At least, I think it was you,” Dylan says when I don’t speak because I’m too busy figuring out ways I can kill my best friend without getting caught burying her body.

Dang it. What to do? I can walk away. I’d be humiliated but what’s new? Or, I can ask him out and he’ll say no. In which case, I will also be humiliated. It appears humiliation is the special of the day. It often is.

I glance up at him from beneath my lashes. He’s gazing down at me in confusion.

“Do you need help?” he asks.

“Um, no.” I blow out a breath and force myself to speak the words. I can do this. I’m shy not a coward. “Do you want to go to the dance with me?”

He shoves his hair out of his eyes. If I weren’t a scaredy-cat, I’d gaze into those ocean blue eyes instead of ducking my chin to study the floor. Trust me. The floor isn’t very interesting. I’ve spent enough time studying it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch what you said.”

Probably because I mumbled. I wince. I know better than to mumble.

I clear my throat. “Do you want to go to the dance with me?”

Now he probably thinks I have a speech impediment considering how slow I spoke. Gah! I’m such an idiot. Why can’t I be a normal girl and speak with a normal voice at a normal tempo?

“The dance this Saturday?”

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