Page 33 of How to Love a Rockstar

“You have a chance.”

The spark of hope grows as I follow my bandmates and Indigo out the door. It won’t be easy to reveal the truth to Virginia, but I’ll do it. Anything to get her to forgive me for being an asshole to her.

Chapter 12

Apology – doesn’t count if it doesn’t include groveling

Virginia

Ifrown at Dylan through the peephole. I didn’t think I’d see him again after I told him I’m the mouse he doesn’t remember from high school.

“I have meatloaf and potatoes from the diner.”

My stomach growls loud enough for him to hear through the door. I love meatloaf and potatoes. Especially if someone else cooked them.

When I don’t respond, he sighs. “I’ll leave the food in front of the door.”

Virginia Hale, be nice!

I promise I’m not usually a mean girl. But when Dylan’s around all I can think about is how I was the forgettable mouse in high school, and I become someone I’m not proud of. But enough is enough.

I open the door. “Please, come in.”

He smiles and his dimple makes an appearance. I have to clutch the doorknob before I raise my hand to trace the indent with my finger.

He lifts the food in the air. “I thought we could eat together.”

I bite my bottom lip as I consider his offer.

He moans. “I want to pull your bottom lip from your teeth. With my teeth.”

I gasp. He does? “But I’m the mouse.”

He scowls. “You’re not a mouse.”

“Yeah, right. Which is why you remembered me from high school.”

“Crap. I need to explain.”

“Explain why you were a complete jerk when I finally managed to gather the courage to ask you out? Explain why you humiliated me?” I snort. “Sure. Let’s hear it.”

“Can we eat first?”

I accept the plates from him and set them on the dining table. “Explanation first. Food second.”

I wish I was Indigo. She’d have thrown the food at him and slammed the door in his face. But I’m not. I’m Virginia the mouse.

I’ve worked hard to rid myself of my mouse tendencies. But they always come back. Usually when I need them to stay away the most.

“My dad walked out on my family when I was a sophomore in high school.”

I fist my hands to stop myself from hugging him. “I’m sorry.”

He waves away my sympathy. “It wasn’t a big loss. He wasn’t much of a father.” He blows out a puff of air. “But when he took off, hetook off. He emptied the bank accounts, packed up his shit, and rode off into the sunset with his secretary. Mom never heard from him again.”

My mouth gapes open. “You never heard from again?”

“Mom searched for him. She needed the money. She had five kids at home to feed and clothe and was a stay at home mom. Dad didn’t want her working. He said it made him look bad.”

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