Dear Rockstar (11 page)

All I could think about was the guy sitting next to me, wondering how had I lost my way in such a short amount of time.

I pulled into the parking lot of our apartment complex, killing the lights and cutting the engine. It was full dark and far too late—Aimee and Matt had insisted on going out to TGIFridays after the movie for something to eat, and we’d stayed talking and drinking Cokes and eating mozzarella sticks until I noticed it was after midnight and told Dale I had to get home or I might turn into a pumpkin.

I made a joke out of it but Aimee gave me a worried look when I mentioned it and she noticed the time. She knew as well as I did—the stepbeast didn’t allow me to go on dates, at least not while I was living in
his
house, and I had to make up all sorts of excuses to be out that didn’t include boys. My entire relationship with David had been a great big secret, and Aimee had spent most of our junior year covering for me.

“So Cinderella, did you have a good time at the ball?” Dale turned toward me in the darkness, the only sound the ticking of the car’s cooling engine.

“Yes, thanks.” I glanced down at the heels I was wearing. My feet were killing me, but the look on his face had been worth it. “Although Cinderella has to return her glass slippers to her fairy godmother in the morning.”

“They seem to be getting on pretty good,” he said, and I knew he was referring to Aimee and Matt. I’d been surprised how familiar the two of them had been all night long, lots of public displays of affection.

I glanced at my watch. “Aimee’s mom’s at some law conference. She won’t be home all weekend. I imagine they’re getting it on right about now.”

“That’s not what I meant… but you’re probably right.” Dale laughed. I felt his hand brush mine in the darkness. I’d been anticipating it, waiting and hoping for it, and still, it made my breath catch. “Too bad we don’t have a place to be alone.”

“There’s always the back seat.” I was only half kidding, my eyes skipping to the roomy bench seat just a few feet away. Dale followed my gaze, looking tempted, almost as tempted as I was, even if we were parked right in front of the apartment building at one in the morning. The light in our apartment was off, which was a good sign. The stepbeast had probably been drinking all night—typical for a Saturday. Likely he was passed out in the chair. My mother usually just covered him up and left him there until morning.

“Come on.” I leaned into him and he slipped his arms around me, our breath so warm on the cool September night it was already fogging the windows. “Let’s do it.”

He lowered his head to my shoulder, gathering me up even closer, breathing me in again like he did. I loved when he did that.

“No.” His voice muffled in the denim of his jacket—I was still wearing it. Then he lifted his head, pressing his forehead to mine. “No backseats for my Cinderella.”

“Then one of us has to get a castle before I… die.” I took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the heat of his body, the way his hands moved lower on my back, up under the jacket, seeking bare skin. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I kept asking myself how I could possibly feel this way, after just a week, but it was a ridiculous question, because I’d fallen in love with Tyler Vincent in an instant. Or… I thought I had. I was beginning to doubt any other feeling but this one, whatever this overwhelming, heart-bursting-open emotion was, the one only Dale made me feel.

He chuckled, eyes flashing almost silver in the moonlight. “You won’t die.”

I lifted my face to his and whispered, “The least you could do is kiss me?”

“Do you want me to?” He traced a finger over my lips, sending a hot rush of blood through me.

“Can’t you tell?”

His smile rose up to his eyes slowly, darkening them. “I like to hear you say it.”

“Yes.” So close. His finger still pressed to my lips. His gaze there too. “Yes, I want you to kiss me.”

“Mmm.” His finger was wet with my saliva now and he rubbed it against my mouth. “Say it again.”

“I want you to kiss me.” I groaned.

“Say please,” he whispered, his gaze never leaving my mouth.

“Please.” My hands moved lightly over his neck and shoulders, broad and strong under my fingers.

“Pretty please,” he insisted, a smile playing on his lips.

“Pretty… pretty… pretty please.” I leaned nearer with every word, my mouth so close to his either of us could have bridged the gap in an instant.

I heard him swallow. “That was a
very
pretty please.”

“Thank you.”

Then he was opening the passenger side door, letting the cool night air in. “Come on, let’s do this right.”

“Where are you going?” I wailed.

“Come on.” He ducked his head, waving me out of the car. “I’m going to kiss you at your front door, like Prince Charming should.”

“Not a good idea,” I mumbled, grabbing my keys and my purse—leaving the shopping bag on the floor in the back, deciding I’d get it in the morning—and following Dale.

“No, doing it in your car isn’t a good idea.” Dale grabbed me around the waist as I came to the front of the car, giving me a long, hard squeeze. “We might just end up in the back seat.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

He groaned. “Stop tempting me.”

“Make me.” I slid my hand up under his t-shirt, hearing him gasp.

“Come on.” He grabbed my wayward hand, heading toward the front door. It was a security door—you weren’t supposed to be able to get in without a key or pushing a buzzer—but it had been broken long ago. It was the only way in the building.

“Okay…” I stopped, pulling backwards to slow him. “Here we are.”

“No.” He grabbed the knob, yanking the door open. “Not this door. I said
your
front door.”

“Dale…”

He led me down the stairs. “Down here, right? Which one?”

“Shhh, it’s late,” I whispered, pointing to the my door.

“Oh right,” he whispered back as we stood in front of my apartment. “We don’t want to wake Cinderella’s evil stepmother.”

I hadn’t told him anything about my family.

“In my case, it’s stepfather.”

He cocked his head, frowning. “Really?”

I just shrugged, but I think he saw the truth on my face.

“Come here.” He drew me closer, arms around my waist, and I slipped my arms around his neck. Then there was nothing else in the world but us. The heat of his body warmed me instantly, and I turned my face up to his, eager, but he was in no hurry, his mouth lowering to caress the soft, sensitive skin of my neck, brushing my jaw, my cheek, teasing me, making me wait and wait, until I thought I was going to keel over.

“Dale,” I whispered, my hands moving through his hair, thick and soft. “Please…”

“Mmm,” he murmured, his lips grazing mine, barely, his mouth slightly wet and open, making me groan in frustration. “I could eat you all up.”

“Finally,” I moaned, my whole body arched into his, seeing that little flash of his dimple, knowing he was smiling, feeling it there, almost right there, right against my mouth and then—

“What the fuck is going on out here?”

The door flew open and I froze, my heart dropping to my toes. My stepfather grabbed me by the arm, yanking me out of Dale’s reach, pulling me into the apartment. I tripped in my heels, ending up on the floor.

“Uh, sir…?” Dale blinked at the man now standing between us. I saw his hands balled into fists.

“Go home!” I gasped. “Just go home!”

“You heard her. Get the hell out of here. And stay out.”

My stepfather slammed the door, locking it and drawing the bolt, standing there leaning against it and glaring at me, arms crossed over his chest while Dale banged on it from the outside, calling for me.

I stayed huddled on the floor, tears streaming down my face, trying not to cry out loud so no one would hear me. Especially Dale. But he wouldn’t give up. He was pounding on the door at one in the morning, calling my name, asking me if I was okay.

“Shut him up, before I call the cops,” my stepfather growled.

I swallowed, shaking my head, but I did what he told me to.

“I’m fine!” I called, my voice cracking, hoarse. “Go home, Dale! Please just
go home!”

Finally, he did.

     
CHAPTER ELEVEN     

I expected the phone to ring—even in the wee hours of the morning—but it didn’t. It was almost two a.m. by the time I escaped my stepfather’s wrath and made it to my room, and still the phone didn’t ring. I took off Aimee’s shoes and Dale’s jacket, slipping out of my jeans and getting into bed wearing the Black Diamond t-shirt, thoughts racing, my heart cracked wide open. He wasn’t going to call me, not tonight, not ever again. I was sure of it. And I couldn’t blame him after what happened.

I didn’t fall asleep until the sun was coming up, my eyes red and swollen from crying. I didn’t know what time it was when my mother knocked, opening my bedroom door, and I lifted my head slowly, sure I was still dreaming.

“Sara, you have a visitor. It’s a young man.” She lowered her voice. “Your father isn’t here.”

I blinked at her in surprise. “What? Where is he?”

“He’s at work. He had deliveries.” She glanced over her shoulder. “They added a new route on Sundays. He’s getting paid overtime. Should I ask your friend in?”

She looked like she didn’t know what to do. Of course, my stepfather had made the rule that “boys” weren’t allowed, ever. Not in the apartment. Definitely not in my room.

“Yes!” I moved faster than I thought possible, grabbing my jeans and pulling them on, running my fingers through my hair. I reached past her, opening the door wider, seeing Dale standing near the front door.

“Sara!” The look of relief in his eyes was palpable. I felt it all the way down the hall. My mother shrank back as he strode past her into my room, putting his arms around me.

I waved her away, seeing her eyes widen as I shut the door, but I knew she wouldn’t do or say anything about it. We had an unspoken pact—what my stepfather didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt either of us.

“Are you okay?” He grabbed my upper arms, searching my face first, his gaze dipping lower, like he was looking to make sure nothing was bleeding or broken.

“I’m fine,” I croaked. My voice was still hoarse from sleep—and all the crying. Oh God. I knew I must look awful.

“What the hell?” He walked over to my bed, sitting and putting his head in his hands like he felt dizzy. “I couldn’t sleep all fucking night. I didn’t want to call because I didn’t want to get you into any more trouble… but that…”

He lifted his head, eyes dark, angry. “Was that your stepfather?”

I crossed my arms, nodding miserably. “I’m not allowed to date.”

“What?” He looked at me, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

“I wish.” I sank down into my desk chair with a sigh.

Dale sat up, glancing at the closed door and then back at me. “So if he finds me here?”

“Yeah.” I bit my lip. “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

He dropped his head for a moment, jaw working, teeth clenched, lost in thought. His hands fists on his thighs.

Then he looked at me, eyes as dark as summer storm clouds. “You need to get the hell out of here.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean now.” He stood, decisive, looking around my room for the first time. “Find a bag. Pack it.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“I can’t let you stay here.” He grabbed a backpack off my floor, opening it and looking inside, emptying it of books and opening one of my drawers, pulling out t-shirts and starting to throw them in.

“Stop!” I grabbed the backpack, yanking it out of his hands. “Dale, no. I’m not going anywhere. I have to finish school. Where am I going to go?”

“Upstairs. With me.”

I smiled. “With you and your father?”

“I have a big bed.”

Oh. The thought of us in a great big bed was very tempting, I had to admit. And distracting. For the first time I noticed he was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday and he hadn’t shaved—there was an appealing shadow of stubble on his usually smooth cheeks. It made me wonder if he’d slept either. He had a dark, wild look on his face that told me he probably hadn’t.

“Dale…” I took his hand, tossing my backpack aside, and sitting on the bed. He wouldn’t sit, standing looking down at me, eyes burning. “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” I tugged on his hand, patting the bed beside me. “Listen, I’ve done this before.”

He frowned, brow knitted. “Done what?”

“Do you think I’ve never dated anyone?”

Now he did sit. “I hadn’t thought about it… but I am now.”

“I can still see you.” I kept his hand in mine as I turned toward him. “We can still see each other. We just have to be careful.”

He shook his dark head, his perfect mouth drawn into a fine line. “I don’t want to sneak around.”

“I don’t either,” I agreed, pointing at my closed bedroom door. “But you saw how he reacts. I really don’t have much of a choice.”

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?”