Page 44 of Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar 1)

Matt and Aimee were off talking about something and Dale was suddenly all business, not barking orders exactly, but definitely telling the band what to do and how to do it. He offered to help them load up all the amps and equipment, but his bass player—the guy with the short, spiky blonde hair—waved him off, saying they’d get it, giving a long, pointed look in my direction.

I wanted to ask Dale what that was all about, but didn’t want to do it while we were in earshot of the entire band.

Dale turned to me with that decidedly disarming smile, dimple flashing. “I’m all yours!”

“I doubt that.” I nodded behind him at the gaggles of girls still giggling and goggling over him, comparing autographs and t-shirts.

“Don’t.” He frowned, making that little dent in his chin appear even more prominent as he slipped an arm around my waist, turning so his body blocked my view of his new little fan club. Whenever he touched me, I got a rush, like a surge of electricity making a bulb burn just a little brighter.

“Don’t what?” I felt the press of his hips, his thigh between mine, just one hand anchored at my lower back keeping me held against him, just where he wanted me.

“Don’t doubt it.” His eyes grew dark and glinty, like the ocean at midnight under a full moon.

“It’s kind of hard not to, when there’s so much evidence to the contrary.” I tilted my head, looking around his shoulder at the group of girls watching us with interest—and a jealousy so heavy I felt it like a weight.

He pulled my chin back, forcing me to lock eyes with him. “Trust me. I have all the evidence you’ll ever need.”

“Really?” I teased. “Where?”

“Do you want me to show you?” He shook his head, but his hand drew me even closer, letting me feel just how much evidence he had to present his case.

I drew him closer too, whispering a whimpered, “Yes,” into his ear.

“Oh God, Sara.” He groaned, letting me go as if I’d burned him. “Not here. Not now. Are you hungry?”

I laughed. “I’m not really dressed for dinner.”

“You don’t have to dress up for the mall food court.”

I pouted. “I know, but Aimee bought a new outfit for her date tonight. I was going to dress up for you, at least a little. You’ve only ever seen me in jeans and sneakers and t-shirts.”

“You look fine.” The way he looked at me, that wolfish hunger in his eyes, turned me absolutely inside out. “Too fine. What the hell are you doing here so early?”

I raised my eyebrows. “You missed the part about buying a new outfit?”

“Oh. Right. Shopping?”

“Aimee was shopping. I was following her around holding all the clothes she didn’t want. And you, apparently, were performing in the mall and didn’t tell me?”

He hesitated and I waited for his answer, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Aimee rushed up, grabbing my arm.

“Come to the bathroom with me. I want to change before the movie.” She held up and shook her shopping bag with her new outfit and accessories.

I shrugged helplessly at Dale as she dragged me toward the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back!” I called.

Dale frowned like he didn’t want me to leave his sight, but he didn’t have much choice. Aimee practically had me in a head lock as she dragged me down the long hallway and into the mall bathroom.

“Matt’s taking me to dinner at his family’s country club!” she exclaimed, pulling clothes out of her bag and yanking off the tags.

“What?”

“He wants to take me to dinner. The movie doesn’t start for two hours.” She pulled off her t-shirt, standing there in her bra and reaching for the black, off-the-shoulder sweater dress she’d decided on.

uatted down in front of me, elbows on his knees, dark hair falling over one eye as he cocked his head and looked at me. Behind him, the band looked nonplussed. The bassist had wandered over to the drummer, and they put their heads together, probably wondering what in the hell was going on. Their lead singer had been distracted. Apparently this was something new for them. Girls—and they were all girls of various ages, shapes, and sizes—clamored to get even closer, forcing the edge of the stage to dig painfully into my ribs.

Dale held his hand out and every girl around me grabbed for it. Some of them even managed to get a hold, but he shook them off, annoyed, trying again. This time, I was there to meet him, and he gripped my forearm in his fist, giving a tremendous pull. At first I thought my arm might tear from its socket, but then I seemed to be floating as my sneakers scrabbled up the stage wall, and I realized the hands around me were pushing me up to meet him.

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