Page 34 of Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar 1)

CHAPTER SIX

“So where’s this stud of yours, Sara?” Carrie scanned the lunch room as she sat down at the table with her usual tray and I snitched a fry while she was preoccupied. Wendy was at the front of the fast food line and she waved when she saw me looking her way.

“Still at the stud farm?” Aimee snickered. She had lemon Yoplait today.

“You guys, come on,” I protested, looking nervously around the cafeteria. I hadn’t seen him since Friday—he told me he had band practice all weekend, to make up for lost time during the week now that classes had started at the academy—but we’d talked for hours on the phone until the stepbeast made us get off. “He’s new here. Let’s not make him feel like a side of beef, all right?”

“Sure.” Carrie blinked innocently but she flashed me a mischievous grin. “No problem. So where is he?”

“Where’s who?” Wendy slid her identical tray next to Carrie’s. She had hot pink spandex biker shorts under her mini-skirt today, a compromise with Mr. West, who had called her down to the office for wearing fishnets. I was getting so sick of being treated like little kids. This wasn’t high school! “Oh my God, that’s him.”

I looked up, my heart already lurching in my chest, seeing him standing in the doorway, talking to Holly Larson of all people. She was doing everything she could to keep his attention, putting a hand on his arm, leaning in to say something more intimate. Dale turned away from her, his gaze scanning the lunch room, and I saw he was wearing a Sex Pistols t-shirt under a black denim jacket, acid-washed jeans and combat boots. And of course, that signature belt.

Aimee glared. “Looks like Holly’s got her claws in your man, Sara.”

“He’s not—” My voice gave out when Holly flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder—the hair flip!—and laughed loudly, loud enough for all of us to hear, even over the noise of the cafeteria.

“He’s yours if you want him,” Carrie observed, pointing, and I grabbed her finger, pulling it down and meeting Dale’s eyes. He was looking right at me, his eyes brightening, pleased and surprised, and it made me feel faint, a heat filling my whole body, as if the most intense spotlight in the world had just been trained on me.

He leaned sideways to say something to Holly, but his eyes never left mine and I couldn’t look away. Wendy grabbed my knee under the table, shaking it wildly, her eyes big as she watched him approach, but even that couldn’t distract me. His walk was casual, hands in his jeans pockets, but his eyes had that same look I’d seen when they found me that first day in chemistry, like an animal targeting its prey.

“Oh wow, Sara, he really likes you.” Wendy leaned in to whisper this fact and I was grateful for the reassurance, because I thought maybe I was seeing things, or I’d just gone a little crazy because of my Tyler Vincent obsession and his obvious resemblance. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one who saw the way his eyes lit up when they found me, how his energy and focus shifted from something casual to something that went far beyond interest. It was more like a hunger, and it made me hungry too.

“Hey you.” His voice brought back our weekend phone conversations, whispering together in the middle of the night. He looked at me like there was no one else there, as if every girl, every other person, had simply disappeared the moment he set eyes on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Holly Larson pass our table, felt the jealousy and hatred directed at me, but it was nothing like the heat of Dale’s gaze. I felt instantly combustible. If I’d been a popcorn kernel, I would have exploded the minute he looked at me.

“You must be the infamous Dale Diamond,” Carrie announced, pulling a chair over from another table and sliding it between us. “Is that a real name? Have a seat.”

“Hi.” Dale turned the chair around, sitting astride it beside me, his knee brushing mine. “Yeah, Dale Diamond’s my real name. Easy to make fun of. I got called Double-D in junior high. I’m just glad my mother didn’t name me Neil.”

Aimee laughed. “My mother loves Neil Diamond.”

“So do a lot of older women, I hear.” He smiled at her. “Aimee, right?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you.” She looked far too pleased he’d guessed right.

“And you must be Carrie and Wendy.” He glanced between the two of them, speculative. “Carrie?” He pointed, guessing right again. “And Wendy?”

Wendy raised her pierced eyebrow, squirting ketchup from a packet all over her fries. “Do our reputations precede us?”

“Sara and I talked a lot. She told me about you.” Dale’s arm slipped behind my chair, pulling it closer to his, so our thighs were touching. It was a delicious sort of chafing.

“Really?” Carrie perked up and I saw her nudge Wendy, giving her that mischievous smile. I tried to warn her with my eyes but she went ahead anyway. “So she told you all about her Tyler Vincent obsession?”

“Obsession?” Dale raised his eyebrows, glancing at me. I smiled weakly. “Oh, speaking of Tyler Vincent—I’m going to pick up those tickets this weekend. I got us four front row seats.”

“Four?” My eyes widened and I looked at Aimee.

“Yeah—me and you.” He nudged me under the table with his knee again, sending a little thrill through me. “Aimee and…”

“Oh God, I forgot to tell you!” Carrie interrupted, waving like a ref flagging an offsides. With five brothers, it was likely a familiar gesture at her house. “Aimee, my brother asked me for your number! I gave it to him. I hope that was okay?”

“I know,” Aimee replied calmly, licking her spoon.

We all stared at her, open-mouthed. Her cheeks turned a shade almost as red as her hair.

“What?” I gasped. “You didn’t tell me!”

Aimee shrugged, glancing at Dale. “You’ve been… busy.”

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