Page 116 of How to Date a Rockstar

Grand gesture – what happens when someone realizes he was a dumbass and needs to apologize in a big way

Indigo

Knock! Knock!

At the knock on the door, I bury my head under my blanket. I’m not ready to face the world yet. Things I never thought I’d begrateful for: the love of my life breaking up with me on the eve of a long weekend so I could wallow for three days before going back to school.

“Indigo! I know you’re in there,” Dylan hollers.

“Go away!”

“I’m not going anywhere until you let me in.”

I guess he’ll be sleeping on the porch.

“The old lady across the street has her binoculars pointed at this house.”

Petal can use her binoculars all she wants. She won’t observe anything exciting since I’m not moving from my position on the couch. Never mind how the stuffing is lacking and the coils are pinching my back. I’m not moving.

“I guess I’ll have to give her a show.”

I expect him to play his guitar but all I hear is humming. I listen closer. Is he hummingBlurred Lines? Why is he hummingBlurred Lines? Do I want to know?

I wrap the blanket around me and stand. I wobble for a moment since lying on the sofa crying for two days doesn’t exactly add muscle tone to your legs. Once my feet are steady, I inch toward the window and peek outside.

Dylan has his shirt off and he’s whirling it in the air.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving your neighbors a show!”

He reaches for the snap of his jeans, and I rush to the front door and yank it open before shackling Dylan’s wrist and dragging him inside. It’s not difficult since he doesn’t put up a fight. In fact, he smirks. Dang it to detention and back! He got exactly what he wanted.

“Why are you here?” I snarl at him.

He rakes his gaze up and down my body. I tighten the blanket around my waist.

“You’ll need to change.” He sniffs. “And take a shower.” He points to my hair. “And wash your hair.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Good thing I got here early.”

Gee. His response cleared things up. Not. I try again. “What are you talking about?”

He smirks. “We’re going out.”

I scoot backwards. “No, we’re not. I have another day off before classes begin again. I’m not going anywhere before then.”

“Huh.” He studies me with a frown on his face, but all he says is ‘huh’. Annoying.

“What?”

“I didn’t expecttheIndigo Scott to be a scaredy-cat.”

“I’m nottheIndigo Scott. I’m Indigo. And I’m not a scaredy-cat.”

“I don’t know.” He nods toward the coffee table and the ruins of my heartbreak meal. “It sure seems like you’re a scaredy-cat who’s afraid to leave her house.”

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