Page 146 of Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar 1)

“Apparently. But I don’t need it.” I slipped my arms around Dale’s waist, looking up to meet his eyes. “I got a far better offer.”

Aimee’s eyes widened. “You did.”

“It’s not what you think.” I laughed, reaching around and pulling a folded envelope out of the back pocket of my jeans. I glanced up at Dale, seeing the love shining in his eyes. “I checked the mail at my old apartment before we left. I hadn’t thought about it for weeks.”

“What’s that?” John asked, peering over my shoulder.

I smiled at him. “This is my acceptance to the New York Studio School. John asked me to apply, so I did. Full tuition. I start in the fall.”

“Congratulations!” John leaned over, kissing my cheek, which was still bruised, although I’d covered it the best I could with makeup. “When are you going to start calling me dad?”

I looked slyly over at Dale. “When your son asks me to marry him.”

“Well what are you waiting for, son?” John laughed, clapping him on the back.

“Excuse me.” A young brunette approached us, tapping Tyler Vincent on the shoulder. “Tyler, you have to announce the winner. It’s time.”

Dale grabbed my hand. “That’s what I’m waiting for.”

“Good luck!” Tyler glanced over his shoulder, giving Dale a wink. “Careful what you wish for, man…”

“Are you ready to be a rock star?” Matt asked Dale, grinning and taking Aimee’s hand as the band gathered around us too, all of them looking nervous, hearing the cheers of the crowd as Tyler took the stage again. He’d performed earlier, but I’d been backstage with Dale and had missed it—and didn’t care at all.

All ten of the bands, each huddled in groups, waited for the announcement backstage.

“Hey.” I clutched his hand in mine, squeezing hard. He looked down at me, eyes glazed, a little wild. My stomach clenched with nerves. I couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling. “Win or lose… you’re my rock star.”

“Sara...” Dale put his arms around me, whispering in my ear so only I could hear him. “I don’t care. I really don’t care anymore. I have you. That’s all that matters.”

“And the winner is…” On stage, Tyler Vincent opened the envelope and the crowd was so loud we could barely hear him. “Black Diamond.”

Thirty-thousand people went insane.

It felt like a hundred people were hugging us at once, but Dale had me in his arms, his mouth on mine, and the rest of the world just melted away.

Then a small entourage of people came to usher the band onto the stage, telling them where to stand, what to say. But Dale wouldn’t let me go.

“Go!” I laughed, hitting his shoulder, trying to wiggle out of his arms. “This is your moment!”

“No, it’s ours. You’re coming with me.” He insisted, ignoring the handler instructions, dragging me with him onto the stage with the band to accept the title as Best New Band. It was all being filmed live on MTV and I stared out at the crowd, completely overwhelmed, wishing I could turn invisible.

“Dale Diamond, as the lead singer of the Black Diamonds, what do you have to say?” Tyler handed the microphone over to Dale, who dropped my hand to wave at the crowd.

“Thank you!”

They roared their approval.

“I want to say thank you to all of you who supported us. And thanks to the judges. And congratulations to the band, Black Diamond—Terry Miller, Rick Baker, Eddie Allen… and Dale Diamond!”

Another swell of applause from the crowd. Eddie Allen! That was Bear, the drummer’s, full name! I smiled, hugging myself, standing back and letting them have their moment. I didn’t belong out here on stage. Glancing over, I saw John and Aimee and Matt standing next to Wendy and Carrie backstage. They waved, all of them giving me a thumbs up. That’s where I belonged. I wasn’t a rock star—I was just a fan.

Dale Diamond’s biggest fan.

Then he was turning to me, the love in his eyes almost knocking me over, still holding tight to the microphone.

od in the middle of my room, looking around at the images of Tyler Vincent still papering my walls. It was all that was left, aside from the furniture. I sat on the bed, tears streaming down my face, looking at the blood-stained carpet in the hallway where I had nearly bled to death after my stepfather had stabbed me with the handiest weapon he could find, determined to silence me once and for all.

“I’m so sorry, Sara.” Dale came over to me, brushing my tears from my cheeks as I looked up at him. He had been there. He had heard everything. He knew what my stepfather had done to me—and I had told him everything once I could talk again, while he sat beside my hospital bed and held my hand, in short, hitching whispers.

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