Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar #1)

Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar #1) Page 16

He reached over and brushed a long, sleep-fuzzed strand of hair out of my face, cupping my chin in one of his hands. He turned my head back and forth, like he was looking for something.

“Does he hurt you? Because if he hurts you, this is over right now. You’re coming with me. I don’t care what you say.”

I shook my head, the lie coming as easily as it always did.

Finally, he sighed. “This is crazy.”

“What did you say about crazy?” I reminded him, smiling.

“Yeah, but this is really crazy.”

“I know.” I did know. No one else knew what my home life was really like, except Aimee. I’d become an expert at hiding it. I was still hiding it, even from Dale. I dropped my gaze, afraid he would see too much truth in my eyes. “Listen, I wouldn’t blame you if… I mean, after last night, I figured I wouldn’t hear from you again anyway.”

“No.” Dale gripped my upper arms, shaking me to get my full attention and I met his eyes, surprised. The look on his face wasn’t just a dark storm, it was the full force of a tornado or a tsunami. “Are you crazy? All I could think about last night was breaking down that fucking door and taking you. Just… taking you. Out of here. Anywhere.”

I swallowed, tears stinging my eyes. “But I am.”

“What?”

“I am crazy.”

“No you’re not. Or if you are, you’re my kind of crazy.”

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t that teasing almost-kiss we’d been about to share the night before. There was no anticipation, no gentle lead-in. This was a full-on, forced-in, take-no-prisoners kiss, a bruising, gasping, slanting kiss that took my breath and curled my toes and melted me against him, a liquid meeting a solid. I washed over him that way, my arms going around his neck, feeling his hands, big and warm, fingers digging into my ribs as he pulled my body to meet his.

“Oh Sara, Sara.” He murmured my name, kissing my lips, my cheek, my chin, my jaw, my neck, his mouth everywhere at once, hands too, roaming up under the too-tight Black Diamond t-shirt as he kissed me back onto the soft cloud of my little twin bed, just the perfect size for the two of us on top of each other like this. His knee slid between mine, making me gasp and arch, my thighs clamping down on his as his mouth found my lips again.

His tongue was teasing, dipping deeper to taste me, his breath so hot it was like fire against my cheek, his body too, lean and solid on top of me, the delicious weight of him making me forget everything else. I whimpered, shifting my hips, feeling him slide into the cradle of my pelvis as I wrapped my legs around his waist, the thick, denim friction between my thighs urging me on. I moaned his name as he broke our kiss, nuzzling his way down my neck, his stubbly chin leaving a tingly, red trail over my chest as he cupped my breasts in his hands through my t-shirt.

I looked down, meeting his gaze, seeing the lust there as our eyes locked.

Dale blinked, swallowed, his thumbs poised over my hardening nipples, and I think we both knew, the moment he touched them, it would be like setting of a detonator, a nuclear bomb. There would be no way to stop what would come next.

“Okay, wait, wait…” he breathed, shaking his head as if to clear it.

I cried out when he rolled off me in one fluid motion, standing, pacing, running a hand through his dark, already messy hair. I sat up on my elbows, still breathing hard, missing the weight and feel of him on me, wanting more.

“Sara.” He focused again, turning to look at me, and then stopped, gaze moving over my body, nipples poking the t-shirt, hard as diamonds, my jean-clad thighs still invitingly open from having him between them. He licked his lips, shaking his head again, and raised his eyes to mine. “Maybe you could put something else on? Like… I don’t know… a robe or… a Burka… or something…”

I giggled, sitting up and reaching for a t-shirt, one of my over-size ones, pulling it over my head. “Better?”

He nodded grimly. “A little.”

Dale paced again, thinking. “Sara, I want to get you out of here.”

“I’m working on that,” I told him, grabbing a brush and running it through the mess of my hair. “I promise you. I don’t want…”

I stopped, seeing Dale standing in the middle of my room, and I think it was the first time he’d paused to look around, to really look. His eyes widened and I shrank back on my bed as I watched his gaze move over every image of Tyler Vincent papering my walls. Aimee hadn’t been kidding—it was truly wallpaper. I hadn’t left an inch of space, from floor to ceiling. Even those places you couldn’t see, behind my desk, my bookshelves, my dresser, everywhere, everything covered with Tyler Vincent’s image.

Then Dale’s eyes focused on something in the corner. I followed his gaze, my heart lurching in my chest. I’d forgotten about my painting. I’d finished it. It just needed to be packed up and sent.

“Chloe.” He said her name—Tyler Vincent’s daughter’s name—except it was me in the picture with him. I held my breath, watching as he advanced, reaching out to touch the surface of my painting, trying to read his expression, but I couldn’t.

“Dale?” I finally prompted.

He glanced over at me. “Self-portrait?”

I nodded miserably.

“It’s very good.” His voice was soft as he turned to look back at the painting again. “Looks just like him. And you…” He touched it again, and I saw a brief flash of pain in his eyes that broke my heart. Then his voice broke. “Him and you…”

“It’s for a contest,” I explained, wanting to make it better somehow. I reached under my alarm clock, pulling out the brochure and offering it to him as an explanation. It felt like pasting a Band-Aid over a bleeding artery.

Dale took it, sitting next to me on the bed as he read it through.

“The University of Maine?” He looked up at me. “First prize is a four-year scholarship?”

I nodded. It was difficult to look into his eyes in that moment but I forced myself. There was so much pain there he was trying very hard to hide. I didn’t want to see it. Worse. I didn’t want to know I was the cause.

“It’s perfect.” He gave me a small, sad smile. “If you win—and how could you not? Look at that!” He glanced at my painting. “Then you get out of here right?”

I nodded again, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

“And you’ll also just happen to be going to school about five minutes away from where Tyler Vincent’s lived for the past twenty years right?”

I didn’t nod this time.

“And me, well, I come along and I just happen to be from Maine and I can get you front row seats to see Tyler Vincent, and I even look a little like him, so…”

I could see where he was going with this, but I still didn’t answer him.

He stood, letting the brochure flutter to the floor. “Listen, I should go.”

He was all the way to the door before I bolted after him, grabbing his hand. He stopped, looking down at our hands and then at me.

“Dale, please.” My eyes stung with tears and I didn’t stop them. “I know what you’re thinking, but that’s not it. It’s not like that.”

“Not… like… what… exactly?” The words didn’t come easy for him, spaced out and confused, looking at me with such raw feeling I wanted to hide, knowing I’d caused him so much pain.

“I can explain.”

Sure you can.

I thought I could. Maybe I could.

I pulled him back toward my bed where, just minutes before, we’d been completely lost in each other. “Please. Just listen?”

He let me lead him back to the bed. I could tell he was waiting and letting me struggle. I sat cross-legged, facing him, but he was only half-turned toward me, half of him facing the door, like he wasn’t sure which way to go.

“I know it seems crazy on the outside.” I looked at my painting, glancing around at Tyler all over my walls. “But I fell in love with him when I was fourteen. You know how girls are. I mean… you know.”

“I guess.” He blinked, looking around the room in disbelief. It was a lot to take in for the first time. “I get being a fan. I know girls go crazy for rock stars. I mean, obviously.”

“That’s all this is.”

He met my eyes, eyebrows raised. “Sara…”

I sighed. “Okay, maybe not all. Maybe I… maybe I took it a little too far. Maybe I… maybe I hate it here so much, I started fantasizing about a way out. And somehow my magical thinking or wish fulfillment got mixed in with Tyler Vincent and things just snowballed and before I knew it…”

I shrugged, turning my hands up and looking around the room, trying to see it like he must see it. How crazy it must all seem.

“Oh Sara.” He shook his head, my words bringing back the incident the night before, his gaze skipping to my closed door, and I knew he was thinking about the stepbeast.

“I’m sorry.” I felt my tears falling. They slipped down my cheeks and fell onto the denim of my jeans, making dark splotches. “I can’t help how I feel about him. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He raised my hand to his cheek, rubbing it gently across his skin and that delicious five o’clock shadow.

“The truth is…” Dale reached out, turning my face up to him. “I have never felt like this before in my life. Ever. It’s so strong, and it happened so fast.”

I nodded as he cupped my face in his hands, wiping away my tears with his thumbs.

“Do you feel it, Sara? Do you feel it too?”

I opened my mouth, knowing the best, most logical thing to do would be to deny it. I knew I should end this now, for both our sakes. But I couldn’t. He was right.

“It scares me,” I choked out.

He pulled me into his arms then, cradling my head against his chest, and I felt the steady, beautiful beat of his heart.

“Me, too,” he whispered into my hair. “Oh God, Sara… you could hurt me right now more than I’ve ever been hurt...and I’ve only known you a week. If I stay, knowing you’ve built your life around some guy who doesn’t even know you exist... do you know how vulnerable that makes me?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” I felt more tears building in the back of my throat and I willed them to stop. “And I have a feeling I will.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, holding me so close he was crushing me. “So should I go?”

I shook my head, sobbing. “Do you really want to go?”

There we were. An impasse.

“I guess the better question is…” He lifted my chin, eyes searching, my face full of tears and God only knew what else, but he looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “Do you want me to stay?”

His face was inches from mine, eyes glinting, too bright.

“Stay,” I whispered.

I felt him let out his pent-up breath and his arms went around me, strong. I could hardly breathe, but I didn’t care. He buried his face in my hair and I breathed him in too, his scent, a smell that was completely and utterly Dale.