Page 17 of Taming the Rockstar

“Did you embroider those?” I ask.

“Yeah, my friend Ivy let me borrow her machine at work.” Allison is a genius when it comes to any fiber art. She learned how to crochet in less than forty-eight hours when we were kids.

“I love it! Save one for me when I’m back in L.A., okay?”

“I already did. I miss you. How’s tour?”

“It’s good so far! I mean, the bus is tiny; I wish I could shower and not have to hunch over. You know how it goes!”

“How’s Priya?”

“It only took you thirty seconds; that’s a record,” I deadpan before continuing, “Priya’s wonderful. I love working with her. The rest of the guys are super sweet, and Vince is,” I suck in air through my teeth, “Vince.”

“You talk about Vince a lot.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do! You text me about him at least once a day. Don’t make me show you our conversations.”

I pause. “Do I?”

“Yes! You complain about him constantly.”

“Because he’s a nuisance! I watched him eat a hot dog off the floor this morning!”

“Okay, that is gross, but I don’t know, Lynds …”

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know?’”

“I think you like him,” Allison says.

My stomach drops to my knees. Do I like Vince? Why do I suddenly feel like I am in middle school? Vince is fine. His eyes are green as spring grass, and if he wasn’t a musician, his hair would make him a shoo-in for a romance novel cover model, but I don’t like him like that! I could appreciate him in an aesthetic sense, like a painting.

He is hot. I had eyes. It would be weird if I didn’t notice how hot he is.

“Okay, Lynds, your silence is deafening. Let me know how it goes,” Allison teases.

“I’m just- I- there’s not … no way!”

“Oh, I broke your brain, didn’t I? Lyndsey, he’s hot as hell. It’s okay if you like him.”

“I don’t!” I protest.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Henry poked his head in. “Hey, Lyndsey? We’re five minutes out!”

“Shit, Al, I gotta go.”

“Okay, same here! But wait! I decided I’m going to try and find my dad!”

“Shit, way to drop a bomb! When?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, so I bought one of those test kits online. It’s not like I need a dad, but I’d feel weird if I went through my whole life without knowing him, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” I say. This is a big deal. Allison has never expressed explicit interest in tracking down her dad before this. I am happy for her and excited.

“Let me know how it goes, okay?”

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