《Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar #1)》


 Page 1

    Part One


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    CHAPTER ONE


    ¡°He looks exactly like Tyler Vincent, I swear to God!¡±


    ¡°Who is she talking about, Sara?¡± Carrie looked at me even though it was Aimee making the big deal of it. My stomach growled and I glanced at Carrie¡¯s tray¡ªa Hostess blueberry pie, French fries and a Pepsi. Like most institutional food, Iselin Academy¡¯s lunches faintly resembled something plopped out of an Alpo can. If it wasn¡¯t for fast food and federal subsidies, the whole place would go bankrupt.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Some new guy.¡± I peered across the table and through the window at an enticing slant of September sunshine, already missing summer and trying to pretend I wasn¡¯t interested in seeing the Tyler Vincent look-alike, but just the sound of his name gave me a thrill. And of course Aimee knew it.


    Nineteen-years-old and still infatuated with a rock star.


    I couldn¡¯t have been more pathetic if I¡¯d tried. But my body betrayed me, every damned time, my heart racing ridiculously and my hands stupidly clammy now that I was thinking about Tyler Vincent. Not that I wasn¡¯t most of the time anyway.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who he is.¡± Aimee shrugged, speaking through a mouthful of Yoplait. That was blueberry too and it made her teeth look blue. The sight was unappetizing, even though my stomach growled in protest, and I looked away. She was dieting. Again. Even though she wasn¡¯t supposed to. ¡°All I know is he is so fine. Like, a total stud. He might even be cuter than Tyler Vincent.¡±


    I glanced over and tried to give Aimee my best quelling look but she just grinned and licked her spoon. I went back to looking out the window, pretending I couldn¡¯t hear either of them, watching the cloud of smoke growing over the designated patio outside where half the academy gathered at lunch time to work on getting lung cancer like their GEDs depended on it.


    Of course, if any of us had worked that hard on anything in high school, we wouldn¡¯t be stuck trying to graduate from the academy. Aimee called it The Mental Academy, which was partly true. There were lots of kids, like me and Aimee, who were too ¡°troubled¡± during their teen years to pay much attention to academics, and many, like our new friends Wendy and Carrie, who took the word ¡°high¡± quite literally in ¡°high school.¡± Now we were all paying for our mistakes, trying to make up for lost time, and just get some semblance of our own lives begun.


    Officially though, Iselin Academy was a ¡°night and day school¡± for kids ages seventeen to twenty-one, four hundred ¡°non-traditional students¡±¡ªthat¡¯s what they called us¡ªwho could either attend day or night classes, as schedules allowed, while working full-time or taking care of kids. I knew a lot of girls who had babies at home. I also knew a lot of kids who flipped burgers at Mickey D¡¯s on the midnight shift who came to classes at nine in the morning.


    I think all of us just wanted to get the hell out of New Jersey, but I was pretty sure no one wanted it more than me.


    ¡°So who is this bohunk?¡± Carrie asked, nudging me. Like I knew?


    I nudged Aimee. ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°Tyler Vincent times ten. Squared. To infinity. Like butter. I¡¯m telling you. Smoooooth.¡± Aimee offered me a spoonful of her yogurt but I made a face, shaking my head.


    ¡°Schweeet.¡± Carrie grabbed a chair from the empty table next to ours, sitting astride it in her hot pink stirrup pants¡ªthey matched her dangling dyed pink feather earrings and the pink fringe of her bangs, a shock of color on her otherwise dark head¡ªand started to eat her fries, still wearing her black lace, fingerless Madonna gloves. ¡°It¡¯s about time we got some fresh meat around here. So where¡¯s the beef?¡±


    ¡°Not on my tray.¡± Wendy arrived at our table with her usual eye-roll, made even more dramatic by the heavy eyeliner she used to frame her dark eyes. Then she gave a dramatic, mock-shudder. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t give my dog the meat they serve in this school.¡±


    ¡°Not beef, ya airhead. Beef cake.¡± Carrie rolled her eyes right back at Wendy, who set her tray, a duplicate of Carrie¡¯s, on the table.


    We¡¯d gone to high school with Carrie and Wendy, back when we all thought we¡¯d be graduating like everyone else with the class of 1986. They¡¯d recognized me and Aimee sitting together in the auditorium and had glommed onto us during orientation, all of us clinging to the familiar in a sea of strange faces, promising we¡¯d stick together like the four musketeers until we could earn our high school equivalencies. Carrie and Wendy were loud and brash and they both liked to be the center of attention. It was as if Madonna and Pat Benatar had struck up a friendship¡ªexcept along the way, they¡¯d met up with the Violent Femmes and maybe the B-52¡¯s, and had made a joint decision to go a little bit punk, just for fun.


    ¡°Beefcake?¡± Wendy whipped her head around, hunting for fresh meat with her dark rimmed eyes, rising slightly in her chair, her black leather mini-skirt riding up on her fishnet covered thighs, a look that had gotten her in trouble more than once by Mr. West, the academy head, but Wendy persisted with her risqu¨¦ fashion choices nonetheless. ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°I passed him in the hall after geometry,¡± Aimee piped up, scraping the bottom of her Yoplait container with her spoon like a mad woman, getting every last bit of blueberry. ¡°You should see this guy.¡±


    ¡°Who is he, David Hasselhoff?¡±


    Aimee scoffed. ¡°Far better.¡±


    Carrie wagged a finger at her. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t dis the Knight Rider.¡±


    ¡°Apparently he looks exactly like Tyler Vincent.¡± I mocked Aimee¡¯s tendency to put an emphasis on everything, picking up her empty blueberry yogurt container and peering inside, my stomach growling again. She couldn¡¯t have done much better if she¡¯d licked it clean.


    ¡°It¡¯s light and fat-free.¡± Aimee pointed at the label. ¡°Just a hundred calories.¡±


    ¡°Tyler Vincent?¡± Wendy cocked her head, frowning and looking at me like she was trying to remember something. I was known far and wide in high school as a huge Tyler Vincent fan.


    ¡°You know, the rock star Sara lurrrrrrves.¡± Carrie nudged Wendy, but she was teasing me. I ignored her, watching Wendy opening ketchup packets with her teeth.


    ¡°No shit, Sherlock.¡± Wendy spat the bit of plastic onto her tray.


    Carrie stuck her tongue out. ¡°Fuck you, Watson.¡±


    ¡°Hush! Wait.¡± Wendy paused, licking ketchup off her fingers. ¡°You¡¯re talking about the new guy? I saw him with his dad registering in the office when I was changing my schedule.¡±


    ¡°What did you change to?¡± I picked up one of Wendy¡¯s discarded ketchup packets and licked some sweetness off.


    ¡°Turns out I don¡¯t need as many math credits as I thought. Thank God.¡± Wendy tore open another packet.


    ¡°Lucky you.¡± I made a face. I hated math. Although I hated science even more. Both of which I had to make up, along with most of the rest of my senior year.


    ¡°You saw him?¡± Aimee perked up, like a dog with a bone, just not letting it go. She licked yogurt off the back of her plastic spoon and grinned over at me. There was an actual blueberry stuck in her teeth now and I knew I should tell her, but I didn¡¯t, just out of spite. Because I knew what she was thinking¡ªif she fixed me up with a Tyler look-alike, I¡¯d stop thinking about the real Tyler Vincent all the time. ¡°Did you talk to him? He¡¯s not a youngin¡¯ is he?¡±


    That¡¯s what we called the smart kids, the seventeen and eighteen year olds who had their own accelerated classes at the academy. They were the minority here, misfits in a school of misfits.


    ¡°I heard him tell the counselor he was twenty.¡± Wendy shoved a few ketchup-slathered fries into her mouth before opening the wrapper on her fruit pie. ¡°From some little backwards state that starts with an M. I can¡¯t remember. The big city is gonna be culture shock for that poor, poor boy. Maybe you should show him the ropes, Sara?¡±


    Wendy leered at me, waggling her pierced eyebrows.


    ¡°Oh, a cornchip?¡± Aimee frowned, looking disappointed.


    ¡°Looking like that?¡± Wendy snorted, slapping Aimee¡¯s hand away when she reached for one of her fries. ¡°You saw him. He didn¡¯t look like a farmer to me.¡±


    ¡°Maryland?¡± Carrie guessed between bites of fries. I snitched one, avoiding her hand slap, my stomach thanking me loudly. ¡°Massachusetts?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t contain my curiosity any more. ¡°Okay, what did he look like?¡±


    ¡°Tyler Vincent,¡± Aimee insisted again. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to tell you!¡±


    ¡°Michigan?¡± Carrie was still guessing.


    ¡°Come on, Wendy, tell me the truth.¡± Of course, I knew better. There was only one Tyler Vincent, the center of my known universe, and everything revolved around him. What did I care if a new transfer student from some backwoods state sort of resembled him? It wouldn¡¯t be the real thing. It would be like trying to replace sugar with saccharine. Regular yogurt with ¡°light and fat-free.¡± Yuk. ¡°Does he really look like him?¡±


    ¡°Minnesota!¡± Carrie exclaimed, slapping the table triumphantly.


    ¡°None of the above.¡± Wendy shook her head, turning her attention to me. ¡°If it¡¯s the same guy I met in the office¡­ wow. Sara, he¡¯s a dead-ringer for Tyler Vincent. Aimee¡¯s not joking. Same eyes, same hair, same cheekbones.¡±


    ¡°I told you!¡± Aimee stuck out her tongue.


    I cocked my head at Wendy, incredulous. ¡°Same dimple in his chin?¡±


    ¡°Right. Here.¡± She touched her finger to my chin to show me, grinning. ¡°He even dresses like a rock star. All black, and he was wearing this shiny belt¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes! Like it had diamonds all over it!¡± Aimee exclaimed. ¡°It¡¯s definitely the same guy!¡±


    ¡°Missouri?¡± Carrie guessed, wiping a bit of blueberry filling off her face. I snitched another one of her fries while she had her eyes closed, concentrating.


    Wendy¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡±


    ¡°Missouri? It was Missouri?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Wendy scowled. ¡°Diamond! Dale Diamond!¡±


    ¡°Crap,¡± Carrie mumbled, taking another bite of her Hostess pie. ¡°Who knew there were so many states that start with M?¡±


    ¡°Dale Diamond.¡± Aimee grinned. ¡°He¡¯s even got a rock star name!¡±


    So a new transfer student named Dale Diamond had found his way to Iselin, New Jersey from some podunk state and was clearly cashing in on his resemblance to a famous rock star in order to impress girls. From Aimee and Wendy¡¯s reaction, it was working, but while I loved Tyler Vincent as much as the next girl, I wasn¡¯t impressed. The new guy might look like Tyler Vincent¡ªbut the fact remained, he wasn¡¯t Tyler Vincent. That¡¯s all that mattered to me.


    ¡°Montana!¡± Carrie practically yelled it. ¡°It has to be Montana! That¡¯s the only one left!¡±


    ¡°You forgot Mississippi.¡± Aimee stared longingly as she watched Wendy shovel down her fries.

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    ¡°Is it Mississippi?¡± Carrie asked.


    ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s the other one.¡± Wendy licked her salty fingers, pointing toward the ceiling. ¡°You know, the one up north.¡±Advertisement


    I thought my heart was going to stop beating.


    ¡°Maine?¡± I managed to choke out, looking across the table and meeting Aimee¡¯s widening eyes. Tyler Vincent lived in Maine¡ªwhen he wasn¡¯t touring or doing a new movie anyway. Aimee¡¯s eyebrow raise couldn¡¯t have said it any louder than she could have screamed it across the cafeteria¡ªcoincidence? I think not!


    But that¡¯s all it was. Just a stupid coincidence. I was too cynical to believe in anything as ridiculous as fate. If life had taught me anything so far, it was that I was responsible for making my own fate.


    Wendy nodded. ¡°Yep, that one.¡±


    ¡°After all that, you got it!¡± Carrie made a face, frowning as she watched me eat another one of her fries. ¡°Sara, will you stop eating all of my food?¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± I reluctantly put back one of the fries I¡¯d snatched. ¡°I¡¯m starving, but the lines are too long.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve said that every day for a week.¡± Carrie snapped. ¡°It¡¯s no wonder you¡¯re a twig. You don¡¯t eat anything¡ªexcept my fries.¡±


    ¡°Sor-ry.¡± I pushed my chair back. ¡°You¡¯ve been letting me do it every day and never said a word. I didn¡¯t know it bugged you so much. Maybe I should just find another table to sit at.¡±


    I stood up, grabbing my notebook and my purse.


    ¡°Take a chill pill, homegirl!¡± Carrie gripped my arm, tugging. ¡°Sit down. I¡¯m sorry I said anything. Here, have a fry.¡±


    I sat back down, glancing at Aimee. She had a knowing look on her face. Aimee had been my best friend since grade school. She knew the truth¡ªI had no money for the fast food line, and although I was eligible for free lunch, thanks to all those federal subsidies, I was too embarrassed to actually pay with the little red token they doled out to the poor kids every day to pay for it while everyone stood there and stared.


    Besides, their lunch tasted like dog food.


    ¡°Well maybe Dale Diamond will be a good distraction this year.¡± Aimee propped her chin on her hand and stared out the window as if she was willing this new magic man to appear. ¡°If we can¡¯t have Tyler Vincent, we can at least have fun with his look-alike.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to get over this Tyler Vincent obsession, Aimee.¡± Carrie tossed her empty, crumpled-up Hostess wrapper toward the garbage can. ¡°It¡¯s so high school, you know?¡±


    ¡°Two points,¡± I said when she sank it.


    Carrie grinned at me and I grinned back. Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. Things were okay again. I put my head down on the table, a headache beginning to throb behind my eyes. New things always gave me headaches¡ªthe first week of every school year, the first couple days at a new job¡ªlike my brain went into overload from too much unfamiliar stimulation.


    ¡°I¡¯m not the one obsessed with him,¡± Aimee protested indignantly. ¡°You should see Sara¡¯s walls. She invented the first Tyler Vincent wallpaper, pulled straight from the pages of Tiger Beat.¡±


    I flushed, sending her a warning look and she stopped. There were things you just didn¡¯t want everyone to know.


    ¡°So what tortures are we going to subject ourselves to for the last hour of the day?¡± Wendy changed the subject smoothly.


    ¡°I have government. I failed it my senior year, and now, of course, I¡¯ve got Mr. Ruth,¡± Carrie said. We all made retching noises, as if on cue. His reputation had preceded him. During orientation, we sat with some repeaters, and they called him Mr. Ruthless. Carrie had complained about him at the lunch table every single day that week.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got him next semester,¡± Aimee grumbled. More appropriate retching noises.


    ¡°So, what have you got again?¡± Aimee asked me.


    ¡°Chemistry.¡± I sat up, blinking my eyes at the brightness. ¡°And a headache. Does anyone have an aspirin?¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding? It¡¯s easier to get crack here than it is to get aspirin!¡± Carrie exclaimed.


    Aimee laughed.


    ¡°It¡¯s true!¡± Wendy tossed her wrapper at the garbage. She missed. ¡±Want me to hook you up?¡±


    ¡°No thanks.¡± I made a face. ¡°Not my thing.¡±


    ¡°You sure? I know a guy at work¡­¡± Wendy sat back down, grinning at me, but Carrie looked mad and poked her friend in the ribs.


    ¡°We¡¯re done with that remember?¡±


    Wendy rolled her eyes. ¡°Right.¡±


    I stood. ¡°I gotta book. I¡¯ll see you in the parking lot, Aimee?¡±


    ¡°See ya.¡± Aimee waved as I grabbed my purse and started out of the cafeteria.


    CHAPTER TWO


    The halls weren¡¯t crowded because the first bell hadn¡¯t sounded yet. The academy was set up just like high school but it was housed in a building that had once actually been an elementary school. They¡¯d switched out all the little desks for big ones, but the bathrooms were still built for small children, the toilets and sinks so low to the ground the students made jokes about ¡°little people.¡± Just in the first week, I¡¯d discovered that when someone raised their hand and said, ¡°I need to go see the Wizard¡± it just meant they had to use the bathroom.


    In some ways, the academy was turning out to be more like high school than high school had ever been. It was as if the staff figured we¡¯d failed to graduate high school, so they really didn¡¯t believe we were going to reach any semblance of adulthood, and therefore we clearly needed even tighter rules and regulations to follow. It seemed kind of backwards to me, but I wasn¡¯t in charge. I was just trying to make it through to the next thing, which I hoped and prayed wasn¡¯t anywhere near New Jersey.


    I made my way down the hall, past rows of freshly painted lockers, the lingering fumes doing nothing for my headache. I went past the boys¡¯ bathrooms, stopping at the drinking fountain, hoping my stolen fries and a little bit of water would get me through until I got home and could raid the fridge. I was always hungry during my last hour.


    I ducked into the girls¡¯ bathroom, passing two giggling girls I didn¡¯t recognize, digging for my schedule. There it was¡ªcovered with purple eye shadow crumbled into pieces at the bottom of my purse. I wiped my hand on my pants, looking to see where my last hour class was¡ªchemistry, room 514. We¡¯d been doing this for a week and I was still wandering, aimless, not sure which room was where.


    I checked my hair in the mirror¡ªnothing exciting, no pink bangs or purple streaks like Carrie and Wendy, no highlights or spiral auburn perm, like Aimee. I couldn¡¯t afford it. Just me, tiny and blonde and blue-eyed and boring. I looked twelve, not eighteen, even in my somewhat fashionable black, suede fringed boots¡ªSalvation Army, two bucks¡ªand my black leggings and oversized pink sweater.


    I used one of the tiny toilets and bent down to wash my hands at a little sink before finding my way to 514, down at the very end of the hall. Part of me still couldn¡¯t believe I had to do this. I should have graduated already. I was a year older than everyone else to begin with, because my mother had insisted on keeping me back from kindergarten for a year, judging me ¡°socially unready.¡± More like my mother didn¡¯t want her only baby venturing into the world before she was ready. But that was before she married the stepbeast.


    And it was his fault I had to miss most of my senior year.


    The room smelled faintly of Lysol and ammonia. It was better than the formaldehyde we¡¯d used in biology, but not much. I hated math, but science was my nemesis. The only classes I¡¯d ever done really well in were art classes but the academy didn¡¯t offer any extracurriculars. They were all business. I was stuck, just like everyone else, with some version of English, math, science or history all day long.


    So I brought my notebook and I drew. All week long I¡¯d doodled or drawn pictures instead of taking notes or paying attention in class, in spite of all my best intentions. I knew I should be focusing on the tasks at hand, but it was like my hands had a mind of their own, like they were out to sabotage me. Or maybe they just knew better than I did what I should really be doing. I took a pencil out of my purse and started working on a sketch I¡¯d been drawing of Tyler Vincent before lunch.


    I could draw him from memory because I¡¯d memorized every feature. Some part of me knew it was stupid and childish to hold onto my dreams of meeting Tyler Vincent. When I was a freshman in high school, I¡¯d seen my first Tyler Vincent video on MTV and that had been it. I was hooked. While it had happened that fast, the submersion of my life into all things Tyler Vincent had taken years, collecting albums and posters and articles, going to concerts, seeing all his movies, catching up on everything I¡¯d missed in the years he¡¯d been playing before I found him.


    In some strange way, it was as if my discovery had solidified my own existence. Tyler Vincent made me feel like I¡¯d come alive for the first time at the tender age of fourteen, dreaming about meeting a sexy, famous rock star, falling in love and living happily ever after. But as I grew older, my fantasies had matured too. I didn¡¯t want to be a groupie. I didn¡¯t want to be just another girl in a rock star¡¯s stable.


    I didn¡¯t just want to meet him. I wanted to change him. I wanted him to change me. I wanted to be essential in his life. All my fantasies centered on that now. Maybe he needed a graphic artist, someone to do all his promotional material? The thought of working with Tyler Vincent¡¯s image all day long and someone paying me for it was like my dream job. Heck, I did that now, for free. At least half my artwork was Tyler Vincent related.


    Like a butterfly stuck in a chrysalis, waiting for the perfect moment, I was waiting for the day I could burst forth and fly away and find my home.


    To him.


    I was crazy. Obsessed. I knew it. I just couldn¡¯t change it.


    The bell rang, shrilling loudly. Ten more minutes and the room would flood with students.


    Aimee kept telling me I was crazy but she was just as crazy about Tyler Vincent as I was. Well, maybe not quite. She hadn¡¯t spent years wallpapering her walls like I had, or named her cats Tyler and Vincent¡ªfor the short time my stepfather allowed me to have them¡ªlike I had, or entered the last contest to win a trip to L.A. to meet him three-thousand and sixty-seven times, all by postcard, like I had. Although she¡¯d helped me fill out a lot of the cards and she would have been my ¡°1 guest,¡± but of course we didn¡¯t win. Still, she camped out with me every year to get tickets and went just as crazy at his concerts and when she joined Columbia House, every single cassette she picked was by Tyler Vincent.


    She liked him too.


    She just didn¡¯t love him.


    Not like I did.


    Lockers slammed. Shouts and the dull roar of people moving along the hallways echoed softly in the empty room. Students began coming in but I didn¡¯t look up, keeping my face buried in my notebook, trying to daydream and draw my headache away with visions of Tyler Vincent. Those bright, flashing, hazel eyes, that perfect, mischievous smile, those long limbs striding across the stage like he owned it, and when he opened his mouth, the rough, honeyed voice of a god that could stir your soul one minute or sing you to sleep the next.

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    I was lost in my little fantasy when the last bell rang and I heard a sharp rapping. Mr. Woodall was a short, balding man who liked to bang a large pointer on the blackboard to get our attention before he pulled down his chart of the periodic table and started poking at that instead.


    ¡°Okay!¡± he yelled. ¡°Quiet! Quiet!¡±Advertisement


    He called for it every day but the more he did, the more reluctant students seemed to be to comply. I¡¯d noticed most of the teachers at the academy treated us like little kids¡ªor maybe more like prisoners. We were fed and told where to go and what to do and how to do it like we were clearly too incompetent to think of it ourselves. We hadn¡¯t managed to make it out of high school with a diploma so that clearly meant we were idiots.


    There was a lot of grumbling and shuffling as the class took their seats. There were no desks, just tables seating two people at a time, and I¡¯d been at a table all by myself since day one. I wasn¡¯t a leper or anything¡ªthere were quite a few empty tables. It was a big room, meant for much larger classes. The biggest classes were the night ones anyway, because a lot of the students worked during the day.


    ¡°First of all,¡± he started, still loud because it hadn¡¯t grown sufficiently quiet. ¡°I want you all to know I am not happy with the results of your first pop quiz.¡±


    Well what did he expect? A pop quiz the very first week?


    ¡°It appears far too many of you haven¡¯t been paying attention in class.¡±


    ¡°I hear he never passes anybody,¡± a girl at the table next to me said in a low voice to her friend. Inwardly, I sighed, seriously reconsidering this whole completing school business. I clearly wasn¡¯t cut out for it, especially when it came to covalent and noncovalent bonds.


    ¡°So from now on, I¡¯m done with the distractions.¡± He slapped his pointer on a table up front, making all of us jump and the girl at that table actually let out a little yelp. ¡°No talking. No Walkmans, Miss Wagner. Hand it over. And no gum, Mr. Sanchez. Spit it out.¡±


    Walkman collected and gum thrown into an offered garbage can, Mr. Woodall stalked back up to the front of the classroom, yanking down the periodic table and proceeding to abuse it with his pointer, slapping poor helium like it had done something horribly wrong.


    ¡°I want eyes up here and ears open.¡± Bam. Bam. Bam. Now it was iron getting spanked. At least he had what he wanted¡ªeveryone in the room paralyzed, staring at him. I don¡¯t think anyone but me noticed the guy who walked into the room through the open hallway door.


    ¡°Pay attention. No more distractions. Do you understand me?¡± Bam. Bam. Bam. Mr. Woodall continued to attack plutonium for emphasis. ¡°No. More. Distractions!¡±


    ¡°Geez, what did that periodic table ever do to you?¡±


    The guy who had slipped into the room unnoticed broke into Mr. Woodall¡¯s monologue, making the whole class titter nervously with laughter. I¡¯d been frozen in my chair since he entered, knowing instantly who he was. Aimee hadn¡¯t been kidding. Wendy wasn¡¯t exaggerating. He looked just like a younger version of Tyler Vincent standing there with his hands in his pockets, dragging his jeans with that studded belt¡ªit did sort of remind me of diamonds¡ªdown his slim hips. His black t-shirt had the red and silver Dead Kennedys logo on it.


    Mr. Woodall swung around, brandishing his pointer like a sword. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± He held out a pink slip of paper I recognized as a note from the office, looking more amused than threatened by the teacher¡¯s Mr. Miyagi stance with his wooden staff.


    Mr. Woodall snatched the note, quickly scanning it. ¡°Well, Mr. Diamond, kindly find yourself a seat so I may resume my class.¡±


    I watched it happen in slow motion. The girls at the table next to me who I hadn¡¯t said more than a few words to were whispering together, giggling and watching Dale Diamond. Everyone was watching Dale Diamond. His presence drew the eye like his namesake, something so stunning and multifaceted and beautiful it was hard to look away. I looked too, my knees up against the edge of the desk, propping my notebook open. I hid behind it and watched him scanning the room, looking for a seat.


    I saw his gaze, a quick pause at a couple empty tables, one next to Holly Larson, a girl I¡¯d talked to in my history class who had given a baby up for adoption, but you¡¯d never know it from looking at her. She was tall and stunningly beautiful, the cheerleader type, one of those girls you expect to stay a virgin and keep her football boyfriend at bay at least until college. Holly brightened when she saw him looking at her, straightening in her seat, even leaning over and putting her hand suggestively on the chair beside her, making it look deliberate and casual all at the same time.


    The girls next to me acted like we were all still in grade school and I glanced over at the two of them, faces so heavy with make-up it was more like war paint, hair teased up fashionably high, Spandex leggings skin-tight, shirts casually ripped to the correct Flashdance proportions, gold dangling from their ears and bangles clinking on their wrists as they put their heads together like co-conspirators, clearly trying to figure out a way to lure the new guy into their trap.


    I watched his gaze skip over the Flashdance twins but he was heading straight for them, threading his way slowly, easily, through the maze of tables like a big cat surveying his territory, looking for the best rock to sun himself on while everyone watched him with baited breath. I felt myself sinking in my chair, trying to make myself invisible behind my notebook, keeping only one eye on him, part of me hoping he wouldn¡¯t see me, part of me hoping he would.


    He didn¡¯t walk so much as saunter, taking his time. I think he knew everyone was watching, whispering about him behind their hands. Most new kids would have been embarrassed but he seemed unaffected. In fact, he seemed rather used to the sort of attention he attracted, and I guess I couldn¡¯t blame him. Some people were just like that. They had a kind of magnet inside of them that drew people like moths to a flame.


    I¡¯d fallen in love with Tyler Vincent in an moment, the first time I saw him on a television screen, even before he opened his mouth and began to sing. I understood that sort of instant fascination, the thrill it gave you just to watch someone walk across a room, filling all the available space, radiating so much energy people found themselves turning toward the source, like the sun. They couldn¡¯t help it.


    And I couldn¡¯t help staring at Dale Diamond like that, even though I told myself not to. I was giving myself a very stern lecture in my head. Where was my loyalty? What kind of fan was I, if my head could be turned by some look-alike, just a wannabe, a cheap knock-off, nothing even close to the real thing? My mind was trying hard to reason with my body, but it wasn¡¯t gaining much traction.


    My hands, gripping the edges of my notebook to keep them from trembling, were damp and clammy. There weren¡¯t butterflies in my stomach, there were fire-breathing dragons. My belly burned. I felt like I could barely breathe, which was good, because I thought I might just breathe fire, I was so hot. The temperature in the room had risen by about a hundred degrees. I was actually sweating, quivering, sure I was going to melt into a little pile of nothing, and that was before he met my eyes.


    He moved toward the table behind the Flashdance twins¡ªit was empty and they were practically dancing in their seats¡ªwhen he stopped, looking my way for no reason at all, peeking over their Aquanetted hair-dos at me. I swear it was like he felt me or sensed me staring at him, thinking about him, even though I was mostly hidden behind my notebook. His dark hair fell haphazardly over one eye and he flipped it out of his way, like he was trying to get a better look, the expression on his face like an animal spotting its prey.


    Then he cocked his head and smiled, and I was done for. He hadn¡¯t even pounced yet¡ª was still in the tall grass watching, tail swishing, while I grazed nervously nearby¡ªbut I was already a goner. His smile was instantly captivating. If I thought he¡¯d been as bright as the sun before, his smile doubled the wattage. His smile was perfectly white, perfectly perfect, a dimple appearing high up on one cheek, and it reached the corners of his eyes like a rising tide, finally pooling in them with a warmth that would have buckled my knees if I¡¯d been counting on them to support me at that moment.


    And once he saw me, he didn¡¯t stop. He didn¡¯t look away. There was no shyness or hesitation. Part of me hadn¡¯t wanted to be seen, was afraid of what might happen if he looked my way, afraid of what I would feel, what I might do or say, but another part of me wanted to be seen. Not just seen¡ªchosen. That secret part of me, one I hadn¡¯t even known existed until that very moment¡ªhe seemed to bring it out¡ªwanted him to choose me.


    Apparently, I wasn¡¯t the only one.


    ¡°Sit here, Dale!¡± One of the Flashdance twins, the one furthest from me but closest to him, clearly felt his energy shift and didn¡¯t like it, not one bit. She tried her best to redirect him, pointing to the empty table behind her, even daring to reach out and tug a handful of his Dead Kennedys t-shirt in her fist to get his attention.


    He glanced down at her, annoyed, taking a step back.


    ¡°Mr. Diamond, would you please choose a seat?¡± Mr. Woodall insisted.


    The class snickered, all eyes still on Dale, who changed direction, walking in front of the Flashdance twins¡¯ table like they didn¡¯t exist, their longing gazes following him and finally settling on me with so much jealousy I could feel it like an atomic bomb blast.


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Dale snapped him a salute, the energy in the room shifting. They were laughing at the teacher instead of Dale now as he approached my table and sat down.


    And my body reacted like Tyler Vincent had just dropped into the chair beside me.


    CHAPTER THREE


    Mr. Woodall resumed his lecture, but I wasn¡¯t listening. I concentrated on staring at the notebook propped on my knees, hair hanging down to cover the flush in my cheeks¡ªI hoped. I couldn¡¯t focus on anything. Sound receded. Woodall was still talking but I could barely hear him, like I was underwater. To me, he sounded like one of the teachers in a Charlie Brown cartoon.


    I tried hard not to pay attention to the guy sitting beside me. It was bad enough he looked like Tyler Vincent, which brought up an instant, involuntary response¡ªat least I understood Aimee¡¯s enthusiasm at the lunch table now¡ªbut having him just a foot away was beyond distracting. And quite unfairly so, I reasoned. So he was good-looking¡ªso what? So he looked a little like Tyler Vincent¡ªbig deal. There were a lot of cute guys at the academy. What made him so special?


    Nothing. That¡¯s what I told myself as I tried to catch my breath and started back in on my drawing, ignoring Dale¡¯s existence beside me. He wasn¡¯t the man I wanted, after all. My pencil on the page reminded me with every stroke who my heart really belonged to, filling in his strong jaw and that sweet dent in his chin, adding a little morning stubble, because in my fantasy it was the morning after and I was watching him sleep.


    Beside me, Dale leaned back in his chair, putting one black combat boot up across his knee, drawing my eye away from my notebook, tracing the denim seam up from his knee to the V, hesitating at that shiny, studded belt securing his jeans at his waist, all the way up to the Dead Kennedys logo, but I didn¡¯t dare look up any further. I felt his gaze on me. He wasn¡¯t paying any attention to Woodall either, or the dirty looks we were getting from both the Flashdance twins and Holly Larson across the room.

 Page 4

    My heart felt like it wanted to burst out of my chest, my body betraying me with every breath, every damned beat of my heart. What the hell? What was wrong with me? I¡¯d never had a reaction like this to any guy¡ªeven David Hall, who I¡¯d dated during most of my junior year and had finally lost my virginity to on prom night. We had a horrible break-up, including him calling me an obsessed, crazy bitch in front of our algebra class, a fight that continued out in the hallway where I told him every time we¡¯d ever had sex, I¡¯d been thinking about Tyler Vincent.


    Which, of course, just served to prove him right.Advertisement


    But this feeling, whatever it was, this dizzy, soaring, sick-to-my-stomach feeling, I hadn¡¯t ever experienced it with any guy I¡¯d ever dated or had even been attracted to.


    Tyler Vincent aside, of course.


    That¡¯s it. It¡¯s because he looks like Tyler!


    I was just transferring my feelings for him to this imitation sitting beside me! Relieved, I went back to sketching, even if my palms were still sweaty and my breathing far too shallow, at least I had worked out an explanation for my body¡¯s response. It wasn¡¯t my fault. It was like Pavlov¡¯s dogs responding to a bell. Tyler Vincent made my body react this way. It made sense a look-alike might get the same response.


    My stomach growled loudly, reminding me of the lunch I hadn¡¯t eaten. Carrie had obviously interrupted my fry-stealing far before I was full enough to get through to the end of the day. That, too, could have explained the slightly sick, dizzy feeling I was experiencing. In fact, I was sure it was mostly that. I¡¯d been shoving a granola bar in my purse in the morning to eat after lunch, but of course that morning I¡¯d woken up late and had forgotten.


    Growwwwwwwwwrrrrreeeerrrrrrlllll.


    My stomach sounded like a beached whale and I sank down further in my seat, thankful Woodall was still going on¡ªand on and on¡ªquite loudly about his disappointment in our performance and his plans for correcting our shortcomings as a class. If it had been yesterday, when the whole class was quietly taking the ¡°pop quiz,¡± my stomach would have interrupted everyone like Moby Dick looking for Ahab.


    Greeeeeeeeeooooowwwwrrrrrrrrlllll.


    That one sounded more like a distraught cat¡ªGarfield lamenting a missing lasagna perhaps. Lasagna! Now I was really hungry. Mortified, I sank even further in my seat. I was going to be drawing under the table if I got much lower.


    ¡°Hungry?¡± Dale¡¯s breath was warm on my cheek when he leaned in to whisper his question. I smelled a combination of spearmint and Polo cologne.


    I didn¡¯t look at him, vehemently shaking my head, cheeks burning. I expected him to leave me alone, but he didn¡¯t move, and I realized, too late, he was looking over my shoulder.


    ¡°Nice drawing.¡±


    I snapped my notebook closed, tossing it on the table and crossing my arms over my stomach. It wouldn¡¯t stop rumbling. Loudly. Dale leaned back in his chair again, straightening his long legs and digging into his jeans pocket. I looked at the clock and saw it was only one-fifteen¡ªforty-five minutes left. Now I really did feel faint.


    I glanced over at the crinkle of Dale opening whatever he¡¯d taken out of his pocket. Skittles. We weren¡¯t supposed to eat in class. He popped a few into his mouth, cocking his head at me and tilting the red plastic package in my direction.


    ¡°Want some?¡±


    I shook my head, concentrating on looking straight ahead like Mr. Woodall was the only thing in the room but my stomach growled so loudly the two girls sitting at the table next to us giggled and pointed. I ignored them, feeling Dale shift in his chair, leaning forward to put one yellow Skittle on the edge of the table right in front of me. I ignored that too, watching Mr. Woodall waving our pop quizzes around like a madman, still on a rampage.


    It was just a piece of candy, a little bit of sugar-coated lemon-flavor decorated with an ¡°S¡± sitting there looking sweet and delicious and mocking the hell out of me. I resisted, watching Dale out of the corner of my eye, his jaw working as he ate another handful of Skittles. My stomach growled again, not just a noise this time, but an actual, gripping pain.


    I grabbed the piece of candy off the table and popped it into my mouth, lemon flavor bursting on my tongue, savoring the sugary sweetness, but it was gone far too soon. Next to me, Dale leaned forward again, this time putting a green Skittle on the table, but not directly in front of me. This time it was six inches to the right of where he¡¯d put the first one¡ªsix inches closer to him.


    I turned my head to look at him and saw him smiling, still chewing Skittles. Damn that smile. It was infectious. I smiled back, unable to stop myself. He nodded toward the candy as if to say, ¡°Go on,¡± so I did, popping it into my mouth and chewing blissfully. My stomach was actually protesting even louder now, clamoring for more.


    Dale put a red one up, another six inches closer to him, and I didn¡¯t hesitate this time, grabbing and eating it quickly. I loved the red ones. He raised his eyebrows under that shock of dark hair, reaching into the bag and putting another red one up, but we¡¯d progressed far enough across the table this one was directly in front of him. I would have to reach across him to get it.


    He jerked his head toward it, that same motion, ¡°Go on,¡± but I hesitated to lean so far into his personal space. He just watched me struggle, pouring more Skittles into his hand and popping them into his mouth, chewing them up while he waited. Finally, I reached over his lap, leaning in to sweep the piece of candy into my hand, when Dale caught me.


    I looked up, surprised, meeting his eyes, and then down at our hands, his thumb and forefinger encircling my wrist. I couldn¡¯t breathe. All the air had escaped my lungs. I might as well have been on the moon for all the air I could manage to take in. I couldn¡¯t do anything but watch him turn my hand over and pry my fingers open, where the piece of candy was already leaving a red stain because my hands were so damp.


    Dale touched the red spot, rubbing it into the skin at the center of my palm, a sensation that sent electric shockwaves through me, as if that one tiny spot on my hand was connected to every nerve ending in my body. I watched as he put his finger in his mouth, sucking off sweetness, lips puckered like a kiss, eyes never leaving mine. It was the first time I noticed they were blue, not hazel like his rock star look-alike¡¯s. They were a deep, bottomless ocean blue, a bright, sun-on-the-water, blinding sort of blue, and there was so much revealed there I found myself torn between not being able to look away and feeling like I couldn¡¯t hold his gaze for one more second.


    Then he took the Skittles package and tipped it over, spilling a rainbow into my palm. He closed my hand over the myriad of colorful candies, letting me go with that same motion of his head. ¡°Go on.¡± I smiled, opening my hand and looking down at the already melting little bits of sweetness he¡¯d offered. My head argued with my body, telling me I should eat them like a girl, one-by-one, draw it out, tease him, make it sexy and fun and even a little erotic because¡ªwell, even I couldn¡¯t deny there was something going on here, some sort of attraction, even if it was just my Pavlovian response to his Tyler Vincentness.


    Instead, my body won¡ªsomehow my body always won¡ªand I opened my mouth wide, probably looking like a snake unhinging its jaw but too hungry to care, shoving all of the Skittles into my mouth at once and chewing them into a mass of indistinguishable flavor, just pure sugar, glorious energy, my brain lighting up as I looked at him, thanking him with my eyes. There were so many Skittles in my mouth I felt like a chipmunk.


    He grinned, tilting the package at me again, but I shook my head, licking the traces of the rainbow off my palm in a very embarrassing but unavoidable way. He tilted the package back, spilling Skittles into his mouth, chewing with me.


    Then he leaned over with his fruity breath and whispered, ¡°Hi Sara.¡±


    I startled, head snapping toward him, eyes narrowing. How did he know my name? He tapped my notebook, sitting closed on the desk, but I had doodled on the front¡ªI doodled on everything¡ªa little heart with an arrow and ¡°Sara loves Tyler¡± scrawled in the middle. I flushed, grabbing my notebook and turning it over, realizing there were just as many Tyler doodles on the back as there were on the front. I felt him shaking with silent laughter beside me when I opened my notebook to a blank page, leaving it on the desk that way.


    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± His voice low in my ear, not touching me but so close I felt his body heat.


    ¡°You just did.¡± I glanced up at Woodall, heaping more abuse on the poor periodic table up front. He was randomly calling on people to identify elements¡ªsomething he claimed we should all already know¡ªand I knew I¡¯d better pay attention before he randomly called on me.


    ¡°She speaks!¡±


    I gave him a withering look. Behind him, the Flashdance twins mocked me with big eyes, pretending to lick their palms, batting their eyelashes. Frowning, I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my attention back to the front of the room, where it should have been all along, I reminded myself, if I ever wanted to graduate and get the hell out of this town.


    ¡°You like Tyler Vincent?¡± Dale nodded toward my notebook, leaning back in his chair again to shove the Skittles packet back into his jeans pocket.


    I shook my head, feeling a rush of heat in my cheeks, knowing exactly how red and blotchy that made me look but unable to help it. I couldn¡¯t believe I¡¯d just denied my adoration for Tyler Vincent. Who was I? What was wrong with me? But of course he knew¡ªhe¡¯d seen my drawing, plus all the doodles of hearts and flowers and the adolescent practicing of signing with Tyler¡¯s surname instead of my own¡ªSara Elizabeth Vincent.


    ¡°I hear he¡¯s coming to the Silverdome in December.¡±


    I nodded. Okay so I couldn¡¯t deny it, that much was clear. Besides, why did I want to? There was no shame in being a Tyler Vincent fan. He had lots of them. Millions of them. So why was I blushing like a school girl?


    ¡°You going?¡±


    I nodded again. Aimee and I had plans to camp out for tickets, like we always did, determined to get closer than thirteenth row, which was the closest we¡¯d ever been, even in spite of being the very first in line on the day Ticketmaster began selling tickets.


    ¡°Is there a problem, young lady?¡± Woodall¡¯s pointer was pointing right at me.


    ¡°No.¡± I straightened in my seat, putting my feet on the floor.


    ¡°Good.¡± He glanced between me and Dale, lips pursed. Then he slapped the periodic table with his pointer. ¡°Then perhaps you could identify this element for me?¡±


    I stared at the big K on the chart and the only science word I could think of was ¡°Kelvin¡± which was a unit of temperature, not an element. K? What in the hell did K stand for?


    ¡°Kryptonite?¡± I croaked and the whole class cracked up. My face was on fire.


    Dale leaned in, closer this time. I felt his nose brush my hair as he whispered into my ear, ¡°Potassium.¡±


    ¡°No, Miss Wilson. Krypton is over here.¡± He slapped the periodic table with his pointer. ¡°Kryptonite only exists in comic books.¡±


    I looked at Dale suspiciously, doubtful, but I said it anyway. ¡°Potassium. It¡¯s potassium.¡±

 Page 5

    Woodall raised his eyebrows and gave a short nod. ¡°Correct. Mr. Diamond? This element?¡±


    Woodall stayed over on that end of the periodic table, pointing to the PO.Advertisement


    ¡°Polonium,¡± Dale replied and Woodall gave that short nod again, moving on to the Flashdance twins. I would have logically thought PO was potassium. Who named these things? Some confused, dyslexic scientist with no life, obviously.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I whispered out of the side of my mouth and saw the flash of his smile.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± he whispered back.


    He cocked his head so I could see both of his eyes on me, a gesture I was beginning to find quite endearing. ¡°So are you going to the Tyler Vincent concert?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. We go every year.¡± Probably too much information. I wondered if he was a fan. He had to know how much he resembled the rock star. People must have told him before.


    He frowned, brows knitting together, his perfect mouth¡ªwas there anything about him that wasn¡¯t perfect?¡ªpuckered slightly like he¡¯d just tasted something sour. ¡°Who¡¯s we?¡±


    Neither of us noticed the class had grown quiet and Mr. Woodall was looking right at us. Not until he spoke up anyway.


    ¡°Would you two like to come have your conversation up here so we can all share in whatever is clearly far more important than chemistry?¡±


    I shook my head, trying to make myself as small as possible, thinking if Mr. Woodall only knew... It was pretty clear that there was nothing in the world more important than chemistry, and it was happening right now at my table, far more dangerous than any experiment. Elements were mixing over here that had the potential to blow up my entire life. Things had been mixed that couldn¡¯t be unmixed. Chemistry. Indeed.


    Dale glanced up, looking annoyed at the interruption, and some part of me thrilled at the aloof, cool way he eyed Mr. Woodall up at the front of the classroom.


    ¡°We¡¯re good, thanks.¡± Dale gave him back that same, short, dismissive nod and, to my surprise, Woodall hesitated only a moment before moving on with his questions. He was up to Holly now, two tables over.


    Dale picked up my drawing pencil¡ªI never used number-two¡¯s and always had to borrow them for Scantron tests. My pencils were always B¡¯s or H¡¯s. The one Dale picked up was a softer B-2. He turned it over in his hand, black instead of yellow, unfamiliar in a school environment, outside of an art class, and then pulled my notebook over in front of him on the desk.


    I raised my eyebrows in a question as he began to write on the blank page.


    Sorry about that. This guy is totally lame.


    Nodding in agreement, I made a face, and he smiled again. Oh that smile¡ªand that dimple! I wanted to touch it, just put my finger right there, just once. It was almost as appealing as the familiar dent in his chin. He was writing again.


    You have a great smile.


    Had I been smiling? I shook my head, covering my smile with my hand, but he silently protested, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand back down to my lap. That just made me smile more.


    So who¡¯s WE?


    He underlined WE twice, raising his eyebrows at me in question, tipping the pencil toward me. I took it, turning the notebook so I could write a response.


    My best friend, Aimee, and me.


    He nodded, smiling again, taking the pencil back.


    No boyfriend?


    I shook my head, feeling my cheeks starting to get red for the millionth time that afternoon, and that¡¯s when I noticed the class had grown quiet again. Woodall came around the desks, stalking toward us, slapping his hand down on my notebook.


    ¡°I said¡­ no distractions!¡± He picked up my notebook, taking it up to the front of the room while the rest of the class watched with amusement as he threw it into the garbage can. It was like throwing my heart in the trash. All my drawings!


    Dale nudged me and I turned to look at him, distraught. He pointed to the beige surface of the table where he¡¯d written, I¡¯ll get it back for you.


    I nodded stiffly, but couldn¡¯t take my eyes off the edge of my notebook sticking out of the top of the garbage can. I wanted to run up and rescue it. I glanced at the clock. It was nearing time to go, thank God.


    Dale touched my knee with his, getting my attention. He pointed to the table again.


    U OK?


    I shook my head, taking the pencil and scribbling beneath his words.


    It¡¯s important.


    I felt my throat closing up, like I was going to cry, and fought it, blinking back tears and looking at the clock. Time couldn¡¯t move fast enough. Woodall was passing back our pop quizzes, nearing our table.


    Dale shifted toward me again, his knee against mine, nodding at the table. I looked down.


    I promise.


    He¡¯d underlined that twice too.


    He was writing again when Woodall slapped my pop quiz down in front of me with a big, fat D+ in red circled at the top, turning to move on to the Flashdance twins, and then he glanced back, seeing the writing on the table, his face going from puzzled to incredulous to furious in the space of about two seconds.


    ¡°You¡¯re both staying after to wash these desks!¡± Woodall¡¯s voice was actually shaking with anger, his face so red it was nearly purple. ¡°This is inexcusable!¡±


    I just nodded in agreement, nudging Dale under the table when he went to open his mouth and say something. Whatever it was couldn¡¯t be good and would just serve to get us into more trouble. And we were already in deep enough. All I wanted to do was pass this class¡ªand a D+ was passing.


    I bit my lip and looked at Dale. He shrugged and when Woodall wasn¡¯t looking, he crossed his eyes. I smiled in spite of the sick feeling in my stomach. Woodall continued to pass out graded quizzes, shaking his head and grumbling. Dale dug in his pocket, pulling out the Skittles again. He poured some into his palm, fishing through and using all the red ones to make a little heart on the desk.


    I couldn¡¯t help smiling at the gesture. He nodded toward them with that same ¡°Go on,¡± cock of his head and when I swept them into my hand, I noticed the last thing he had written.


    Make it up to you? I can get you front row seats.


    My mouth, already full of red Skittles, dropped open. I only closed it again to keep all the candy from falling onto the floor. I think my eyes held the question¡ªare you serious?¡ªwhen I turned to him, because he smiled and dropped me a wink.


    Glancing back at Woodall, Dale grabbed the pencil, daring to scribble again on the table.


    For a minute I felt faint again. There was a buzzing in my ears.


    Instead of risking the table again, I grabbed my purse, digging through and finding a red pen. I reached over and took his hand, feeling calluses on his fingers as I turned it over, the touch of our hands making my body sing, so I could write on the back of it: Sara 263-3231


    When I drew a fat, red heart around it, he smiled.


    CHAPTER FOUR


    ¡°Hey, thanks for the ride.¡± Dale looked at me over the red-and-Bondo-colored hood of my Dodge Dart in the late afternoon sunshine. In the light, his dark hair was a thick, blue-black¡ªnot unlike a certain rock star¡ªand it made my heart skip in just the same way. The flash of his smile showed that dimple again, like a secret wink. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I got your notebook thrown out.¡±


    ¡°Forget it.¡± I opened the driver¡¯s side door, tossing my notebook and purse in the back seat. ¡°You got it back, that¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    We¡¯d spent half an hour after class spraying the tables with Windex and wiping them down with paper towel. I was worried about Aimee. I was supposed to meet her in the parking lot¡ªI was her ride home. Dale offered to skip out and find her, risking Woodall¡¯s wrath, but I wouldn¡¯t let him. If I turned up missing, I knew she would catch a ride with Carrie and Wendy, if she didn¡¯t make the city bus. I¡¯d just have to hear about it later.


    Woodall gave us both an extra assignment for good measure but had been thankfully been called to the office over the P.A. before he could finish his lecture, and that¡¯s when we grabbed my notebook, leaving the Windex and paper towels on his desk, and took off, practically running through the empty hallways and breaking out of the back doors like two prisoners escaping a maximum security prison.


    ¡°Free at last!¡± Dale shouted, pumping his fist in the air, making me laugh as we made our way across the practically empty parking lot toward my beat-up car.


    ¡°So where to?¡± I asked as Dale got in and immediately went for the radio.


    ¡°Kensington Gardens.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I turned to him, stunned. The coincidences just kept on coming!


    ¡°The apartment complex. Over on Wisteria.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know. I live there.¡± I pulled out of the nearly empty parking lot and turned right, heading toward home.


    ¡°I know.¡± Dale settled on the classic rock station, beginning to flip through the cassettes I had tucked into the console. ¡°You laid out a lot this summer at the pool. Black and white bikini?¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I blushed. Our apartment complex had a pool and Aimee and I had spent a lot of our summer spreading ourselves with her ¡°homemade goop¡±¡ªa mixture of coconut and baby oil and God only knew what else¡ªand working on our tans while we ran the batteries out on her boom box listening to Tyler Vincent. ¡°Yeah, that was me.¡±


    ¡°And that was your friend, Aimee, with you?¡± Dale assumed. I just nodded. He was listing my cassettes under his breath as he looked through them. ¡°U2. Duran Duran. Madonna. Rick Springfield. And of course, Tyler Vincent. Do you listen to anything that isn¡¯t Top 40?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with Top 40?¡± I protested, feeling defensive about my music choices. ¡°I never saw you at the pool.¡±


    ¡°I had a busy summer.¡± He opened the glove compartment, finding more cassettes inside, starting to flip through those too. ¡°No time to swim.¡±


    ¡°Doing what?¡±


    ¡°Getting my band up to snuff.¡±


    ¡°Your band?¡± Did the similarities to Tyler Vincent never end? ¡°What sort of band?¡±


    ¡°You like the Dead Kennedys?¡± He glanced down at his shirt, pointing. ¡°The Cure? INXS?¡±


    ¡°Ummm¡­¡± I shrugged. I¡¯d heard of them, but that was about it.


    ¡°Oh that¡¯s right, you like Tyler Vincent.¡± He was teasing me, grinning, and I told myself to take it lightly, not to overreact, but I hated it when people made fun of Tyler Vincent.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do it!¡± he begged me. ¡°Don¡¯t drink the Kool-Aid!¡±


    ¡°You know you look like him.¡± I changed the subject, glancing up at the red light we were stuck at, waiting for it to turn, trying to keep my cool, but the hair on the back of my neck was standing up.


    ¡°Nah, he looks like me.¡± His eyes¡ªa decidedly devilish blue¡ªnarrowed slightly at my comment. The light still hadn¡¯t turned and we looked at each other across the console. I didn¡¯t like to be teased about my thing for Tyler Vincent, but from the look on his face, he didn¡¯t like to be compared to him either. It was a brief, tense moment. ¡°Is that why you offered to give me a ride home instead of making me call a cab?¡±


    ¡°No, it was the front row seats you promised.¡± I stuck my tongue out at him as the light turned green and I gave it some gas.

 Page 6

    He laughed. ¡°Touch¨¦.¡±


    ¡°You must know someone at Ticketmaster,¡± I mused. The thought of front row seats to see Tyler Vincent seemed almost too good to be true. Was he telling me the truth? ¡°Or the radio station?¡±Advertisement


    ¡°Yeah, I know someone,¡± he agreed, going back to his search through my glove compartment. ¡°Hey! The Violent Femmes. There might be hope for you yet.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°So you obviously don¡¯t play any Tyler Vincent.¡±


    ¡°Occasionally.¡± He made a face. ¡°We have to do some covers, because the crowds want to hear familiar songs. Some day I¡¯m going to perform my own.¡±


    ¡°So punk rock?¡± I prompted. ¡°Like the Dead Kennedys?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no.¡± Dale closed the glove compartment, giving up. ¡°I spent most of last summer in Seattle and you wouldn¡¯t believe the music coming out of there. It¡¯s like hardcore punk mixed with heavy metal and something else, like its own thing. You¡¯ve never heard anything like it. That¡¯s what I do. What I write, what I play.¡±


    ¡°Where can I hear you? Are you playing clubs?¡±


    ¡°Some, when we can get the gigs.¡± Something about his energy had shifted. He wasn¡¯t so cool and casual and who-gives-a-crap anymore. ¡°We¡¯re auditioning for MTV¡¯s Battle of the Bands. By then we should have it all together. I hope.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t sound convinced.¡± We were coming up to Kensington Gardens, three stories high, red brick face, windows like dark eyes. It reminded me of a prison, even with the tall white columns in front, and my heart always sank when I pulled into the parking lot.


    ¡°Well, I got these guys together this summer,¡± he admitted. ¡°We¡¯re working hard, but the band I had back in Maine¡­ we¡¯d been together for years.¡±


    So he had lived in Maine¡ªWendy had been right.


    ¡°But you moved to New Jersey,¡± I reminded him.


    ¡°I know.¡± He sighed, looking up at the apartment building in front of us, and I wondered if I looked just as forlorn when I contemplated its red brick visage. ¡°Up until today, I couldn¡¯t tell you one good thing about living in this hellhole.¡±


    I nodded, fully agreeing with his assessment. ¡°Wait¡­ what happened today?¡±


    He turned and looked at me, a question in his eyes, a half-smile playing on his lips, like he thought I must be kidding him. ¡°I met you, duh.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I replied stupidly, feeling even dumber than I sounded, but he didn¡¯t seem to mind. His gaze moved over my face, lingering for a moment on my lips, and I licked them nervously, attempting to change the subject. ¡°So why did you move here?¡±


    Dale glanced back at the apartments, looking up and waving to someone standing in a window. ¡°My dad got a job teaching at Rutgers. He couldn¡¯t turn it down.¡±


    ¡°Rutgers?¡± It wasn¡¯t Harvard or Yale, but it was still pretty prestigious. ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s why I¡¯m at the stupid academy.¡± Dale hooked a thumb in his belt, drawing my attention there to the silver studs as he leaned back in the passenger¡¯s seat with another sigh. ¡°If I get my high school diploma, my dad can send me to Rutgers for free.¡±


    I blinked in surprise. ¡°That¡¯s quite a deal. A degree from Rutgers for free?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t plan on going to Rutgers,¡± he replied flatly, giving me a dark look.


    ¡°What do you plan on doing?¡± I asked, although I had a feeling I already knew. He didn¡¯t respond but the answer was written all over his face. He didn¡¯t just look like Tyler Vincent¡ªDale Diamond wanted to be Tyler Vincent. Or some cooler, funkier version of the rock star, I could only assume, from his Dead Kennedys t-shirt and his ultimate disdain for my cassette collection.


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± I smirked. ¡°You want to be a rock star?¡±


    ¡°I gotta go.¡± He reached for the door handle and I felt my stomach clench into a ball, suddenly sorry I¡¯d teased him.


    ¡°Hey, wait.¡± I grabbed his arm. It was warm and muscular and the touch was electric. When he looked at me, my breath went away. I had never had such an instant attraction to someone and it scared me a little. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean anything. I think you¡¯d make a great rock star. Hell, you already sort of look like one. I like rock stars. Remember?¡±


    He relented a little, giving me half a smile, but not enough to bring out that dimple in his cheek.


    ¡°Do you have a car?¡± I inquired.


    He shook his dark head. ¡°I sold it last year to pay for a new guitar.¡±


    ¡°Do you want a ride to the academy?¡± I offered. I had to pick up Aimee, of course, but she was just down the road. I tried to imagine her reaction when I showed up with Dale Diamond in the car.


    I patted the dashboard of my Dodge Dart affectionately. ¡°I know my baby here is old and temperamental, but she¡¯s transportation. I worked all summer at a Dairy Queen to buy her. Four hundred bucks.¡±


    ¡°You got taken.¡±


    I laughed and he rewarded me with a real dimple-making smile.


    ¡°So, do you want a ride on Monday?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That would be great.¡± He looked down at my hand, still touching his arm. ¡°Hey¡­ can I still call you tonight?¡±


    ¡°If you want to.¡± I suddenly wanted him to, very much.


    ¡°I want to.¡± He got out of the car.


    I didn¡¯t believe in fate. Strange coincidences happened all the time, but it was all just random, nothing we could control. That¡¯s what I told myself as I watched Dale go into the building.


    But I didn¡¯t quite believe it anymore.


    I heard it before I even got out of the car, and everything inside of me went silent. I sat there for a moment, hating to go inside. Hating him.


    I gathered my purse and notebook and opened the car door. I was glad Dale lived somewhere up on the third floor and had already gone in. I didn¡¯t want him to hear this. I didn¡¯t want to hear this. Dried leaves crunched under my feet as I walked toward the apartment building door. There was one lone tree at the side of the building. It looked as lost and forlorn as I felt.


    Inside the building it was a little warmer. Just down that short flight of steps and beyond that plain white door, a monster waited. The yelling got louder. I hated coming here every day, to this dingy building, with its rust-colored carpet and peeling walls. I remembered a time when there was a house to come home to, before the stepbeast had lost his longest-running job. Then there was a succession of lost jobs¡ªand this place.


    To descend the stairs and go inside would just put me in the middle¡ªagain. It was a place I¡¯d been in all my life. I should be used to it. What was it like for Tyler Vincent¡¯s only daughter, Chloe, to come home every day? She was in her last year of high school¡ªjust a year behind me, although I was still stuck in school too.


    I spun the fantasy out in my head¡ª


    She would come home from school, driving her brand-new Mustang, red with black interior, grab herself a snack from the kitchen, talk to her mom for a minute, and then head to her room. On her way, she would peek in and say ¡°hi¡± to her dad¡ªif his sign, ¡°Do Not Disturb, Madman At Work¡± wasn¡¯t out, that was. He would be in his studio, writing, strumming his guitar. She would talk with him for a minute, munching on her apple, about her day, about his song, about life in general, give him a peck on the cheek and say, ¡°Oh, Dad!¡± when he mentioned how old she was beginning to look and how he was going to have to invest in a shotgun and a porch swing soon.


    I sat down on the stairs, unable to think anymore through the bitterness or see through my tears. His voice reverberated in my head.


    ¡°You can¡¯t do anything! Jesus Christ! Are you that stupid? I can¡¯t hear you!¡±


    My hands pressed against my ears and I hung my head between my knees, feeling weak. You¡¯d think I could get used to it, but it always made my stomach churn and my ears ring.


    ¡°What? What did you say? What did you just say to me? Fuck you, bitch! Get your ass over here!¡± He went on, and he would continue, berating her, making himself feel superior.


    I heard my mother¡¯s voice¡ªa little voice, a mouse voice, a scared little-girl voice.


    ¡°Honey, you never asked me to do that. I would have, if you¡¯d told me, but you never did.¡±


    No Mom, I thought, shaking my head. Don¡¯t be a hero. Don¡¯t be brave. You won¡¯t get away with it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me what I told you! Are you calling me a liar?¡±


    ¡°No, but I¡ª¡±


    CRACK


    Sudden, like a gunshot, or a whip.


    And my mother¡¯s tears, always her tears.


    And mine. I cried for her weakness, for my own, wondering if there were people out there who lived normal lives, or if everyone hid things like this behind closed doors, behind scarves and sunglasses.


    Tyler Vincent doesn¡¯t.


    That much I knew. He was known for being a family man, his wholesome image part of his celebrity. Just a normal everyday guy, living in his hometown in Maine, raising a family, who just happened to be one of the biggest rock stars who ever lived.


    His kids never sat outside and wished him dead.


    I was pretty sure of that.


    CHAPTER FIVE


    I opened the door slowly, bracing myself. This was the worst part. If I could just make it to my room, my haven, I¡¯d be safe.


    ¡°Well, where have you been?¡± He didn¡¯t look away from the TV, although his words were directed at me. ¡°You can¡¯t just waltz in here anytime you want to.¡±


    I looked at him, sitting in ¡°his¡± chair, remote control in hand, a cigarette in the other. He looked at me now, but he didn¡¯t glare and that was good. That meant he wasn¡¯t going to keep me. This was just a show of power.


    ¡°Sorry, I was at Aimee¡¯s,¡± I said softly, the door snicking shut behind me. This was a lie. I¡¯d simply waited out on the stairs until the yelling¡ªand the crying¡ªhad stopped.


    ¡°Well, you can forget about dinner.¡±


    ¡°Did I miss it?¡± I hadn¡¯t been out on the stairs that long!


    ¡°No, but you can forget about eating it.¡± He flipped the channel and puffed on his cigarette.


    ¡°You were late.¡± He turned back to the television set.


    It was my dismissal. Thank God.


    ¡°Yes sir,¡± I mumbled anyway, just in case he thought about it later and decided I hadn¡¯t been humble enough to suit him. I made my way past his chair, glancing into their room to see my mother lying on the bed with an ice pack on her eye. She appeared to be asleep.


    I opened my door at the end of the hall and sighed in relief when I shut it behind me. I dropped my notebook and purse and lay down on my bed.


    I made it. I was safe. Well, relatively.


    . It felt good to relax, to let my guard down a little. This was the only place in the world I could ¡°be myself.¡± This room was me, completely and totally me, from the pictures of Tyler Vincent wallpapering the walls, to the Tyler Vincent cassettes I had lined up on the shelves.


    I looked around and wondered how long it would be before I could get out of here forever. My ticket out was sitting on an easel in front of the window. Like everything else in my room, it was Tyler Vincent. This was special though. This was the painting that would get me out of here¡ªI hoped. I had taken my favorite picture of Tyler from People magazine and made a portrait of it.

 Page 7

    The original picture was one of Tyler and his daughter, Chloe, in a warm embrace, her cheek resting against his black t-shirt. They were smiling, happy, and it looked as if the photographer had snapped the picture a moment too late, because instead of looking at the camera, they were half-looking at each other, their eyes locked, and the look in their eyes was of something secretly hilarious, some inside joke. The love there made me ache all over. The warmth between them was almost tangible, all the love in the world caught in that one single look.


    I had painted Tyler exactly as he was, but instead of Chloe, I had done a self-portrait, putting myself in her place. The painting was almost finished. I just had a little work to do. I contemplated getting out my paints and brushes, since I was going to be in here all night without any supper. Thankfully I had a stash of granola bars in my closet and a whole case of apple juice. Pete¡ªthe stepbeast¡ªdrove a truck delivering juice and he stole it from work.Advertisement


    I got myself a granola bar and some juice, my stomach rumbling its thanks as I ate, looking through one of the brochures from my night stand. I¡¯d flipped through it so many times, the edges were ragged. There was a Bulldog on the front, near the words ¡°University of Maine at Orono¡±¡ªTyler Vincent¡¯s alma mater. Inside, though¡­I opened the slick, folded sheet of paper, staring at the words: ¡°Maine Difference Creative Competition. Open to writers, musicians, painters, photographers¡ªartists of all creeds.¡±


    I double-checked the prize, as I had a hundred times¡ªan all-expenses paid scholarship to the University of Maine to the top winner in each category, and an invitation to an open house to see the campus and accept their award. The keynote speaker was, of course, Tyler Vincent himself, whose music career had started, of all places, in a Maine state university. I folded the brochure up, carefully tucking it fully back under my alarm clock.


    That was my golden ticket. Tyler still had a house only five minutes away from Orono, in Bangor. I had my dreams of meeting him, my little fantasies. Maybe I¡¯d run into his son, Michael¡­ who says we couldn¡¯t fall in love and get married? Or I could end up babysitting his youngest son, Ian. Or meeting Chloe if she decided to go to the University of Maine like her father.


    I knew all of my little scenarios were unlikely, but they were absolutely impossible if I stayed in New Jersey and never set foot in Maine. So I was going. I would win the contest and go to Maine. I had to. If nothing else, it would get me out of here.


    I looked at my painting and then at the original photograph I had tacked to the wall. Chloe Vincent. I was so incredibly jealous of her. Why should she have such a wonderful father, when I was stuck with the stepbeast? There was never a day that passed when I didn¡¯t wish it was me, in his arms with all of that love, for real, and not just in my painting.


    I sighed, shaking my head to clear the reverie. Forget it, I thought. Just get to work. I put on my painting smock and grabbed my palette and a clean brush. If I finished it tonight and let it dry, I could send it out tomorrow. The thought spurred me on, and I opened my paints, beginning to mix a skin tone. I had just gotten the right color when the phone rang.


    My first thought was of Dale Diamond and the little heart I¡¯d drawn around my phone number on the back of his hand. I¡¯d been trying hard not to think about him at all, not even realizing how tense and expectant my body had been, waiting for him to call.


    I grabbed the phone on the first ring, hoping my stepfather wouldn¡¯t pick it up.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Sara! Where in the hell were you? I had to go home with Carrie and Wendy!¡±


    Aimee. I¡¯d forgotten all about her. I put down my brush and palette and sat on the bed.


    ¡°I had to stay after chem.¡±


    ¡°What for?¡± She crunched something in my ear.


    ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡± I looked longingly at the paint drying on the palette.


    ¡°So?¡±


    I gave up, stretching out on my bed, and told her what had happened, from the moment Dale Diamond walked into my chemistry class to my invitation to give him a ride to and from the academy.


    ¡°He¡¯s supposed to call you tonight?¡± Aimee was practically vibrating with excitement¡ªI could feel it even through the phone line. ¡°We better get off, you don¡¯t have call waiting. Oh my God, it¡¯s like a romance novel!¡±


    I laughed. ¡°It¡¯s not that exciting. He¡¯s a nice enough guy, I guess. But he¡¯s not Tyler Vincent.¡±


    I reminded myself of that fact, touching Tyler¡¯s picture, one of my favorites taped to the wall next to my bed. This was the man I lived for, would die for. He filled my thoughts, my dreams. I had pinned all my hopes on him.


    Aimee stopped crunching and groaned. ¡°You are way too hung up on Tyler Vincent. You meet this incredible guy and all you can say is he¡¯s not Tyler Vincent?¡±


    ¡°Hey, let me have my fantasies, would you? What are you eating?¡±


    ¡°Cheetos. But I¡¯m going to throw them up later. Hey, speaking of Tyler Vincent, don¡¯t tickets go on sale this Saturday?¡±


    ¡°Oh my God, I forgot to tell you the best part!¡± I squealed, forgetting all about Aimee¡¯s Cheetos comment for a moment. ¡°Dale says he can get us front row seats!¡±


    ¡°What? You¡¯re kidding me! How?¡±


    ¡°He says he knows somebody.¡±


    ¡°Oh my God, I don¡¯t have to stand in line overnight again? I can¡¯t believe it!¡±


    I laughed. ¡°You lucked out this year.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re the one lucking out.¡±


    ¡°Maybe a little.¡± I twisted the phone cord around my finger, looking at a picture of Tyler Vincent on my wall, but thinking about Dale Diamond. ¡°Hey, are you really eating Cheetos?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t judge me.¡± Aimee crunched again. ¡°I¡¯m having a bad day.¡±


    I knew how she felt, between Woodall and washing desks to coming home to the stepbeast in a beastly mood. The only bright spot in my day had been Dale Diamond.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re eating them, just don¡¯t throw them up.¡±


    ¡°But the calories!¡± she wailed.


    ¡°You were fine at lunch. What happened?¡±


    Aimee sighed. ¡°Carrie¡¯s older brother picked us up. That¡¯s who I rode home with.¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°So he¡¯s amazing, not to mention gorgeous, and I made an absolute fool of myself in front of him!¡± she cried.


    ¡°You did not. It couldn¡¯t be that bad.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t there!¡± she choked. ¡°He pulls up in a red Firebird¡ªa red Firebird!¡ªand the car is hot enough, but the guy? Oh my God, have you seen Carrie¡¯s brother? Matt Green? Do you remember him?¡±


    ¡°Ummm¡­¡± I vaguely remembered him from high school, a nice-looking guy, tall, with short sandy hair, basketball player. He was a senior when we were freshman.


    ¡°So he pulls up and he starts talking to me, and I didn¡¯t even know it was our ride, I just thought it was some cute guy who pulled up and was hitting on me, and Carrie and Wendy were just standing there grinning and not saying anything.¡±


    ¡°So he liked you?¡±


    ¡°I thought he did.¡± Aimee morosely crunched more Cheetos. ¡°But that was before the bee.¡±


    ¡°The bee?¡± Uh-oh. Aimee was deathly afraid of bees¡ªlike I was afraid of spiders. She wasn¡¯t even allergic, she was just terrified of them and freaked out every time she saw one.


    ¡°It was huge! And I screamed like an idiot and started running around and swatting at it but it was chasing me and I ended up tripping over Carrie¡¯s bag. Now I¡¯ve got a hole in the knee of my new Jordache jeans and I can never talk to Carrie¡¯s brother ever again.¡±


    I was trying hard not to laugh at the image. ¡°I¡¯m sure it wasn¡¯t as bad as all that.¡±


    ¡°Sara! He teased me the whole way home!¡± Her voice dropped an octave as she imitated him. ¡°¡®You know, you should BEE more careful¡¯ and ¡®I do BEElieve this is your house, Aimee.¡¯¡±


    I snorted laughter. I couldn¡¯t help it. ¡°Did you tell him to buzz off?¡±


    ¡°Oh my God, I hate you.¡± More crunching.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I apologized, swallowing my laughter, but I couldn¡¯t help myself. ¡°I was just kidding¡­ honey.¡±


    ¡°Sara!¡¯


    ¡°Okay, okay¡­¡± I relented, trying to make her feel better. ¡°Don¡¯t they say if a guy teases you, that means they like you?¡±


    Aimee scoffed. ¡°Yeah, in grade school! We¡¯re not in grade school anymore!¡±


    ¡°I suppose that embarrassing moment was Cheeto-worthy,¡± I admitted. ¡°Just don¡¯t throw them up, okay? Promise me?¡±


    She just kept on crunching. ¡°Do I get to meet this Dale guy?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m giving him a ride to the academy on Monday. You can meet him then.¡±


    ¡°Argh!¡± She gave a strangled cry. ¡°I¡¯ve got a stupid group therapy session Monday morning. Hey, invite him to the lunch table! Then we can all meet him.¡±


    I groaned. ¡°Oh, yeah, like I want Carrie and Wendy ripping him to shreds?¡±


    ¡°Come on, you wimp. Just do it.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Listen, can I let you go? My paint is drying. Besides, you¡¯re just droning on and on¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh shut up!¡± she snapped. ¡°Can I see it before you send it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡ªif you let me finish it!¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± she grumbled. ¡°I¡¯ll see you and your man at lunch on Monday!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not my¡ª¡± I started to protest, but she¡¯d already hung up.


    Here I¡¯d been thinking about Dale Diamond and didn¡¯t even know it. How was that possible? I picked up my brush and palette, just standing there, staring at my painting. I¡¯d been ready to paint, but now I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about Dale and his wry smile, the way his dark hair fell over one eye, that little dent in his chin and matching dimple in his cheek.


    He wasn¡¯t just a sexy, Tyler Vincent look alike, but a musician like him too! Aimee, a firm believer in fate, tarot cards, and all things psychic, clearly thought it was an obvious sign from the universe, but I knew better. More likely, it was just a diversion, something to distract me from the direction I really wanted to go.


    And Tyler Vincent was my true north.


    Then the phone rang and my breath caught in my throat and my heart leapt to my chest, my body instantly betraying me, but not only that, my very first thought was, ¡°Dale!¡±


    I dove across my bed to reach for it, hoping I¡¯d caught it soon enough.


    ¡°Hello?¡± My stepfather¡¯s voice echoed mine.


    I thought it couldn¡¯t get worse until Dale said, ¡°Hi, Sara? I mean, is Sara home?¡±


    ¡°I got it,¡± I said.


    ¡°Okay.¡± But my stepfather still didn¡¯t hang up the phone.


    ¡°Hi, Sara, how¡¯s it going?¡± Dale asked.


    ¡°Okay.¡± I waited for my stepfather to hang up. I hated when he did this.


    ¡°So... I told you I¡¯d call.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± I hated being so short with him, but didn¡¯t want to give anything away to the stepbeast.

 Page 8

    ¡°Don¡¯t be too long,¡± my stepfather said gruffly and then the line was clear again.


    ¡°Was that your dad?¡±Advertisement


    ¡°My stepdad. Don¡¯t ask. So, what¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°Not much. I was just sitting here playing my guitar and thinking about you.¡± He paused and his words melted me like butter in a hot pan. I sank down onto my bed, knowing if he asked me right then if I¡¯d been thinking about him too, I would tell him yes, and it would be the truth. Thankfully, he didn¡¯t ask. ¡°So, what are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Painting.¡± I set my brush down, stretching out on my bed.


    ¡°Like¡­ painting your room?¡±


    I laughed. ¡°No. Painting a picture.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right, the sketches in your notebook. You¡¯re very good.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I blushed at the compliment.


    ¡°Although your subject matter leaves a little to be desired,¡± he teased. I could hear the smile in his voice. Normally, when someone dissed Tyler Vincent, I was all over that like white on Vanilla Ice but for some reason, his teasing felt different. Or maybe I was just making an exception because he looked so damned much like my favorite rock star and my body couldn¡¯t seem to tell the difference. The temperature in my room had risen since the phone rang and I discovered it was Dale.


    I heard him strumming his guitar. ¡°So what about you? Are you good?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t even draw stick figures.¡±


    I laughed. ¡°No, are you a good musician?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I smiled. ¡°You sound confident.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°So we should all see your name in lights soon then?¡± I teased.


    ¡°Oh being good doesn¡¯t have anything to do with being a star.¡±


    I snorted. ¡°Why do you say that?¡±


    ¡°Because you don¡¯t need talent to be a rock star. Look at Tyler Vincent.¡±


    ¡°Hey now¡­!¡± I protested, but I was laughing, something I couldn¡¯t have imagined doing just a day or so ago. I took my Tyler Vincent obsession very seriously! ¡°Why would you dis a rock star, if you want to be one?¡±


    He was quiet for a minute and I heard him strumming his guitar again, something familiar but I couldn¡¯t quite place it. ¡°Because if I don¡¯t, I¡¯ll have to graduate from the academy and go to Rutgers and get a real job and wear a suit and tie. Who wants that?¡±


    ¡°You have a point,¡± I agreed. The life of a rock star seemed far more exciting and glamorous than some corporate hack¡ªeven a millionaire corporate hack. I didn¡¯t know any girl who went bananas over Bill Gates the way they did over Tyler Vincent. ¡°So you think you¡¯ll win the Battle of the Bands?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He sounded a little less confident but his guitar didn¡¯t lie. He was playing around, strumming chords, and just that made me feel all dreamy-eyed and star struck. ¡°Right now, I¡¯ve set my sights on making the semi-finals. One round at a time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to hear you,¡± I confessed.


    Everywhere I looked around my room was Tyler Vincent, yet I wasn¡¯t thinking about him, for the first time in I didn¡¯t even know how long. I closed my eyes and all I could see was Dale, head cocked, half-smile on his face, that bit of hair hanging over one eye as he played.


    ¡°Now? Over the phone?¡±


    ¡°Put the phone down so I can hear you.¡±


    ¡°All right, hang on.¡±


    The sound of his voice receded as he asked, ¡°Can you still hear me?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± I spoke up, although I was afraid the stepbeast might hear. I waited for him to pick up the phone again, but he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Good.¡± Dale strummed idly, the sound of the guitar more prominent than his voice. ¡°Hmm, let¡¯s see. Well, this is what I was playing before I called you.¡±


    It was familiar but I couldn¡¯t place it at first, and then I did. It was Sting¡¯s Every Breath You Take. Aimee called it the ¡°stalker song,¡± and she teased me every time it came on the radio or we saw the video¡ªthe one with Sting and all the candles¡ªon MTV, ¡°Sara! Isn¡¯t this your song for Tyler Vincent?¡±


    And then Dale began to sing and everything else in the world went away. My dismal first week at the academy, the stepbeast, even Tyler Vincent, they all faded away, lost in the crowd, because Dale was in the spotlight and he was all I could focus on. Even if he resembled Tyler Vincent, he didn¡¯t sound a thing like him. His voice was deeper, more rough around the edges, and this song, in his voice, was like listening to a husky lullaby.


    I felt myself floating on his words, every sound another cloud that sent me drifting away, caught up in the music, his voice. I didn¡¯t know how honored I would feel to be given such an intimate show. He was playing, and it was beautiful, but he wasn¡¯t playing for just anyone. It wasn¡¯t like listening to a record or a song on the radio, because he was playing just for me.


    When the song ended, there was a brief silence. I couldn¡¯t move or open my eyes or breathe. I was far away, and yet closer to anyone than I think I¡¯d ever been when he picked up the phone and said my name.


    ¡°Wow.¡± It was all I could manage. ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°See, that¡¯s how I felt when I saw your sketch.¡±


    I blushed. ¡°Subject aside, of course.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just jealous,¡± he admitted in a soft tone that stole all my breath.


    ¡°Of Tyler Vincent? Because he¡¯s a rock star?¡±


    He paused. ¡°No, because you like him more than me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so sure about that,¡± I murmured, my heart soaring in my chest. I refused to open my eyes to look at Tyler Vincent papering my walls, staring back at me. All I could think about was Dale. No, worse¡­ at the moment, he was all I wanted to think about. ¡°So do you play electric guitar too?¡±


    ¡°Hell yeah.¡± I heard him grinning. ¡°But my amp sucks. I use Terry¡¯s old one when we practice and it sounds awful. I sold the amp last year to buy a car and I sold the car to buy my new electric guitar.¡±


    ¡°Oh the irony.¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it. So¡­¡± He was strumming again, every pass of his fingers over the strings resonating in my body like I was a tuning fork. ¡°So what are your plans this evening?¡±


    ¡°Not a thing.¡± There was no Tyler Vincent, no painting to finish, no contest to enter, no stepbeast lurking outside my door.


    There was nothing but Dale Diamond.


    ¡°Good, because I want to talk to you for a long time.¡±


    And we did.


    CHAPTER SIX


    ¡°So where¡¯s this stud of yours, Sara?¡± Carrie scanned the lunch room as she sat down at the table with her usual tray and I snitched a fry while she was preoccupied. Wendy was at the front of the fast food line and she waved when she saw me looking her way.


    ¡°Still at the stud farm?¡± Aimee snickered. She had lemon Yoplait today.


    ¡°You guys, come on,¡± I protested, looking nervously around the cafeteria. I hadn¡¯t seen him since Friday¡ªhe told me he had band practice all weekend, to make up for lost time during the week now that classes had started at the academy¡ªbut we¡¯d talked for hours on the phone until the stepbeast made us get off. ¡°He¡¯s new here. Let¡¯s not make him feel like a side of beef, all right?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Carrie blinked innocently but she flashed me a mischievous grin. ¡°No problem. So where is he?¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s who?¡± Wendy slid her identical tray next to Carrie¡¯s. She had hot pink spandex biker shorts under her mini-skirt today, a compromise with Mr. West, who had called her down to the office for wearing fishnets. I was getting so sick of being treated like little kids. This wasn¡¯t high school! ¡°Oh my God, that¡¯s him.¡±


    I looked up, my heart already lurching in my chest, seeing him standing in the doorway, talking to Holly Larson of all people. She was doing everything she could to keep his attention, putting a hand on his arm, leaning in to say something more intimate. Dale turned away from her, his gaze scanning the lunch room, and I saw he was wearing a Sex Pistols t-shirt under a black denim jacket, acid-washed jeans and combat boots. And of course, that signature belt.


    Aimee glared. ¡°Looks like Holly¡¯s got her claws in your man, Sara.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not¡ª¡± My voice gave out when Holly flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder¡ªthe hair flip!¡ªand laughed loudly, loud enough for all of us to hear, even over the noise of the cafeteria.


    ¡°He¡¯s yours if you want him,¡± Carrie observed, pointing, and I grabbed her finger, pulling it down and meeting Dale¡¯s eyes. He was looking right at me, his eyes brightening, pleased and surprised, and it made me feel faint, a heat filling my whole body, as if the most intense spotlight in the world had just been trained on me.


    He leaned sideways to say something to Holly, but his eyes never left mine and I couldn¡¯t look away. Wendy grabbed my knee under the table, shaking it wildly, her eyes big as she watched him approach, but even that couldn¡¯t distract me. His walk was casual, hands in his jeans pockets, but his eyes had that same look I¡¯d seen when they found me that first day in chemistry, like an animal targeting its prey.


    ¡°Oh wow, Sara, he really likes you.¡± Wendy leaned in to whisper this fact and I was grateful for the reassurance, because I thought maybe I was seeing things, or I¡¯d just gone a little crazy because of my Tyler Vincent obsession and his obvious resemblance. It was good to know I wasn¡¯t the only one who saw the way his eyes lit up when they found me, how his energy and focus shifted from something casual to something that went far beyond interest. It was more like a hunger, and it made me hungry too.


    ¡°Hey you.¡± His voice brought back our weekend phone conversations, whispering together in the middle of the night. He looked at me like there was no one else there, as if every girl, every other person, had simply disappeared the moment he set eyes on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Holly Larson pass our table, felt the jealousy and hatred directed at me, but it was nothing like the heat of Dale¡¯s gaze. I felt instantly combustible. If I¡¯d been a popcorn kernel, I would have exploded the minute he looked at me.


    ¡°You must be the infamous Dale Diamond,¡± Carrie announced, pulling a chair over from another table and sliding it between us. ¡°Is that a real name? Have a seat.¡±


    ¡°Hi.¡± Dale turned the chair around, sitting astride it beside me, his knee brushing mine. ¡°Yeah, Dale Diamond¡¯s my real name. Easy to make fun of. I got called Double-D in junior high. I¡¯m just glad my mother didn¡¯t name me Neil.¡±


    Aimee laughed. ¡°My mother loves Neil Diamond.¡±


    ¡°So do a lot of older women, I hear.¡± He smiled at her. ¡°Aimee, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, nice to meet you.¡± She looked far too pleased he¡¯d guessed right.


    ¡°And you must be Carrie and Wendy.¡± He glanced between the two of them, speculative. ¡°Carrie?¡± He pointed, guessing right again. ¡°And Wendy?¡±


    Wendy raised her pierced eyebrow, squirting ketchup from a packet all over her fries. ¡°Do our reputations precede us?¡±

 Page 9

    ¡°Sara and I talked a lot. She told me about you.¡± Dale¡¯s arm slipped behind my chair, pulling it closer to his, so our thighs were touching. It was a delicious sort of chafing.


    ¡°Really?¡± Carrie perked up and I saw her nudge Wendy, giving her that mischievous smile. I tried to warn her with my eyes but she went ahead anyway. ¡°So she told you all about her Tyler Vincent obsession?¡±Advertisement


    ¡°Obsession?¡± Dale raised his eyebrows, glancing at me. I smiled weakly. ¡°Oh, speaking of Tyler Vincent¡ªI¡¯m going to pick up those tickets this weekend. I got us four front row seats.¡±


    ¡°Four?¡± My eyes widened and I looked at Aimee.


    ¡°Yeah¡ªme and you.¡± He nudged me under the table with his knee again, sending a little thrill through me. ¡°Aimee and¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh God, I forgot to tell you!¡± Carrie interrupted, waving like a ref flagging an offsides. With five brothers, it was likely a familiar gesture at her house. ¡°Aimee, my brother asked me for your number! I gave it to him. I hope that was okay?¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Aimee replied calmly, licking her spoon.


    We all stared at her, open-mouthed. Her cheeks turned a shade almost as red as her hair.


    ¡°What?¡± I gasped. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me!¡±


    Aimee shrugged, glancing at Dale. ¡°You¡¯ve been¡­ busy.¡±


    He grinned. ¡°Well good, sounds like we¡¯ll be able to use four tickets.¡±


    ¡°What about us?¡± Wendy pouted, nudging Carrie, who nearly spit out a mouthful of blueberry Hostess pie.


    Dale looked stunned. ¡°You like Tyler Vincent?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Wendy laughed. ¡°But if it was INXS, Aimee would have to arm-wrestle me for them.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you eating?¡± Carrie asked Dale. I¡¯d forgotten how hungry I was the moment he came in¡ªfor food, anyway. Now my stomach rumbled and he looked at me, noticing.


    ¡°I was gonna grab a slice. Want to come with me?¡± He¡¯d already guessed my answer, sliding a hand casually along my thigh, finding my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and squeezing it as he pulled me to standing. I wasn¡¯t sure my knees were going to hold me up.


    He led me to the back of the line, and I breathed a little sigh as we wedged ourselves into the small space where students waited for fries and pizza and Hostess pies and little bags of Doritos.


    ¡°Finally.¡± He squeezed my hand. He hadn¡¯t let go. ¡°A moment alone.¡±


    Funny, because we were in the middle of a crowd, but I knew what he meant. I found myself wishing we really were alone.


    ¡°Sorry about that.¡± I nodded toward the lunch table. ¡°You¡¯d think you were an alien or something, the way they act.¡±


    ¡°They seem nice enough. You¡¯ll have to meet the guys in my band some time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡± What I liked most of all was the implication. I lifted his hand, tracing where I¡¯d written on it. ¡°My number¡¯s gone.¡±


    ¡°I know it by heart.¡±


    I melted. I had to look down to make sure I wasn¡¯t just a puddle on the floor.


    The line moved quickly and we got to the front. Dale ordered and then turned to me, expectant. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t one of those salad-eating girls, are you?¡± He frowned, glancing up and down at my thin frame. I crossed my arms over my chest.


    ¡°No, I¡­¡± There was no way I could explain it, not here, not now. I felt my cheeks turning red. He cocked his head, looking at me and thinking, and then his expression cleared and he turned to the woman behind the counter, decisive.


    ¡°Two slices, two Cokes.¡± He dug into his back pocket for his wallet and paid her, handing me one of the Cokes and a pizza slice.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that,¡± I said as we walked back toward the table. The smell of pizza was making me salivate. ¡°I¡¯ll pay you back.¡±


    He made a face, shaking his head, but not saying anything as we sat down again. Wendy was already asking him if he could get tickets to the INXS concert in March and they were off to the races, talking about punk bands while I wolfed down my slice of pizza like it was the most delicious thing I¡¯d ever tasted, licking my greasy fingers and laughing when I discovered Dale watching me with interest. Aimee watched me too, looking half amused and half jealous. I offered her a bite, but she turned me down, scraping her Yoplait container with her spoon.


    ¡°Here, you want mine?¡± Dale offered, sliding his pizza across the table toward me. He¡¯d been so involved talking to Wendy and Carrie, he¡¯d only taken a few bites.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± But I asked through a mouthful of his pizza.


    He laughed. ¡°Eat it, little bird. It¡¯s not good for you, but it¡¯s better than Skittles.¡±


    By the time I¡¯d cleaned both our plates, it was nearly time to head back to class, and my stomach was so full it hurt. But when Dale slipped his arm over the back of my chair and smiled at me, I did the best I could to ignore the amazed looks I was getting from my friends, realizing I felt far more full, in a totally different way, than I ever had before.


    I never thought I¡¯d want to kill my best friend, but Aimee, hanging over the seat to talk to Dale, was really beginning to grate on my nerves.


    ¡°I play sax,¡± she told him. ¡°I¡¯m a little rusty now. I played in marching band, but I¡¯d love to play in a real band. Are you guys looking for a sax player?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± he said slowly. ¡°Most of the stuff we play in clubs doesn¡¯t require a sax player.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, if you ever need one, you let me know. You have incredible hair,¡± she added, reaching over to touch it. I turned sharply into her driveway and she was thrown into the seat.


    ¡°We¡¯re here!¡± I announced loudly. Dale was trying not to laugh but I was seething.


    ¡°See ya tomorrow.¡± Aimee put her hand up to her ear, mimicking a phone and the words, ¡°Call me!¡±


    I sighed when she shut the car door.


    ¡°She¡¯s cute.¡±


    I glared at him, backing quickly out of the driveway and peeling off down the street.


    ¡°Whoa!¡± Dale grabbed onto the dash board. ¡°I meant cute in a cute sort of way. Not in that way!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± I said through clenched teeth.


    ¡°You¡¯re jealous.¡± He was trying not to laugh and it made me even madder.


    ¡°I am not jealous. There¡¯s nothing to be jealous about.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± He was really laughing now as I made another sharp turn into our apartment complex. ¡°If you say so.¡±


    I pulled up in front of the building and threw the car into park. ¡°Okay. See you later.¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡± He turned to face me. I wouldn¡¯t look at him. ¡°Come on, don¡¯t be mad. So she was flirting with me a little. Big deal. It¡¯s not her I want to take to the movies this weekend.¡±


    I glanced at him, trying to see if he was serious. He was. ¡°This weekend?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You do want to go to the latest Tyler Vincent movie, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Aimee and I had been planning to make a day of it¡ªcamping out for concert tickets and then doing an all-day Tyler Vincent marathon at the theater, watching every showing of All Night Long, a new romantic comedy where he played, go figure, a rock star. Talk about typecasting. So I would have to ditch Aimee to go with Dale, but considering the look on her face when Carrie had mentioned her older brother asking for Aimee¡¯s phone number, I had a funny feeling she wasn¡¯t going to mind.


    Did I dare share this with him? Did I really want to do that? I was afraid to share my¡­ thing¡­ obsession¡­ whatever you wanted to call it. Dale had gone out of his way, offering front row seats (Front row! That still hadn¡¯t sunk in yet) and now he was asking me out to see Tyler Vincent¡¯s new movie. He knew I was a fan, but there were lots of Tyler Vincent fans in the world. The problem was, I would bet most of them hadn¡¯t wallpapered their walls with his image, or planned their lives, their entire futures, around him.


    Dale¡¯s hand found mine, teasing my fingers open, turning his hand just slightly so he could twine our fingers together. His hands were cool, his fingers calloused¡ªfrom playing guitar all day long, I knew¡ªbut his touch was electric. It made me ache in ways that were utterly foreign to me. Even Tyler Vincent hadn¡¯t reached into the places Dale seemed to find.


    I squeezed his hand. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Awesome.¡± He leaned over and I froze, sure he was going to kiss me, anticipating it, breath held, leaning slightly toward him without even thinking about it. Instead of kissing me, he nuzzled my ear with his nose and I felt more than heard him take a long, deep breath. ¡°God, you smell so good, Sara. You make me want to eat you all up.¡±


    Oh God.


    I wanted to be eaten all up.


    He sighed, tracing a slow, deliberate, straight line up my palm, over my wrist, up my inner arm toward my elbow, making me shiver like it was cold, only the opposite was true. I was so warm I could barely stand it.


    ¡°Can I call you tonight?¡± he murmured, still rubbing his nose against my ear, making circles with his finger at the inner bend of my elbow, driving me mad.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call you,¡± I said, my voice shaking, thinking of my stepfather.


    ¡°You promise?¡± He didn¡¯t seem to notice my quivering, like a rabbit caught in a trap. Except I didn¡¯t want to escape. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to sleep tonight without hearing your voice.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sweet,¡± I whispered, turning my face toward his, knowing how close we would be, anticipating his kiss, every bit of me strung so tight I was ready to snap. My lips grazed his, not really a kiss, it was just barely the lightest of touches, the sensation so exciting it made me whimper for more. I felt his sharp intake of breath as he pulled back, looking into my eyes, both of us lost for a moment, unable to speak.


    Dale shook his dark head, touching a finger to my lips and I felt it like a brand.


    ¡°Not yet. Not here. I don¡¯t trust myself.¡±


    He got out of the car so quickly he was a blur and I watched him go into the main apartment door, my heart beating hard in my chest.


    What was happening?


    I sat there, letting my breath and heartbeat return to normal, which took a long damned time. The first thing I thought¡ªthe first real, coherent thought after our almost-kiss¡ªwas of Aimee and how I was going to tell her what had happened, what was happening, between me and Dale. Especially since I didn¡¯t quite understand it myself.


    I couldn¡¯t believe I¡¯d overreacted that way to Aimee¡¯s harmless flirting. I knew it was harmless¡ªshe would never do anything deliberately to hurt me. Yet even as I thought about it, I was angry. It was stupid, it was irrational, but it was true¡ªI was jealous. Which meant I liked Dale... and I had to admit it. I liked him a lot. This was moving too fast, but I felt powerless to stop it.


    CHAPTER SEVEN


    ¡°You weren¡¯t really mad at me were you?¡± Aimee asked.


    I rolled my eyes for the millionth time, sliding my back down the wall so I could sit on the floor and rest my aching feet. We¡¯d spent all morning shopping for a new outfit for Aimee to wear on her date with Matt. He¡¯d asked her to a movie and of course she¡¯d chosen Tyler Vincent¡¯s latest and we¡¯d laughed when we both shamefully confessed we each had a date to see it. Aimee was stripped down to her bra and panties and I was holding my tongue because she looked thinner than I¡¯d seen her in a long time. I could see her ribs when she put her arms up to pull a dress over her head.

 Page 10

    I¡¯d been trying to tell her about how I¡¯d felt when she was flirting with Dale, but she was completely missing the point.


    ¡°I know you didn¡¯t do it on purpose.¡± I tried again. ¡°So there¡¯s no reason for me to be mad, but the point is I was mad anyway. I was jealous. Which means Dale must mean more to me than I let myself believe he did. Get it?¡±Advertisement


    ¡°Yeah, I guess. You really like him huh?¡± She turned sideways in the mirror, frowning at her figure.


    ¡°I guess I must.¡± I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about him, no matter how hard I tried. I was glad my painting had been almost finished when we met, because I couldn¡¯t even paint. I¡¯d picked him up from school every day this week, although we got precious little time alone before I picked up Aimee. Chemistry was a blur. Thank God Dale insisted we wear our safety goggles, because I¡¯d exploded a test tube mixing something because I¡¯d been looking at his profile and hadn¡¯t been paying attention. The ride home was my favorite part though, because Aimee had started riding home with Carrie and Wendy¡ªand Carrie¡¯s older brother, Matt.


    Dale and I had the entire ride home to ourselves.


    ¡°Earth to Sara.¡± Aimee waved a hand in my face. ¡°What do you think of this one?¡±


    ¡°Uhh. I like it?¡± I looked her up and down, noticing for the first time she¡¯d changed outfits.


    She cocked her hip, grinning down at me. ¡°You are so far gone it¡¯s not even funny.¡±


    ¡°I guess I am.¡±


    Every day for a week, sitting in my idling car, saying goodbye without saying anything at all¡ªthe touch of his hand, his forehead pressed to mine, the way he brushed my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. And still, he hadn¡¯t kissed me. Not once. Nothing but that brief brush of his lips. I was beginning to go a little crazy.


    ¡°But Aimee¡­¡± I looked up at her, shaking my head. ¡°What if I win the scholarship and I go off to college in Maine? Then where will we be? Long-distance relationships never work. And what if I meet Tyler Vincent?¡±


    ¡°So what if you do? What do you expect to happen?¡± It was her turn to roll her eyes at me. ¡°Dale is here and he likes you. Tyler Vincent doesn¡¯t even know you exist.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go to Harmony House.¡± I changed the subject as fast as I could, not wanting to get into it with her. Aimee believed in destiny and ghosts and true-love, but she didn¡¯t let her fantasies out of her head and into the world like I did. She was far more of a realist.


    Besides, there was no arguing with love. Love didn¡¯t care. Love did whatever the hell it wanted, no matter who or what got in the way.


    We went up to the register to pay for Aimee¡¯s outfit. I watched, envious, as she casually handed over a credit card. Aimee¡¯s parents were divorced and she had guilted her father into paying the bill every month, an arrangement that annoyed Aimee¡¯s mother but secretly thrilled Aimee and her father.


    Harmony House was packed. It was always packed on weekends. Aimee stayed at the front of the store to look at the new releases, but I went straight to the alphabetized section¡ª


    ¡°V¡±¡ªlooking for Tyler Vincent. I didn¡¯t expect to find anything new¡ªI owned everything he¡¯d ever recorded on vinyl and cassette anyway¡ªI just liked to flip through and look at him.


    I saw two girls I recognized from our high school in the next aisle. They had graduated with everyone else in our class. I vaguely remembered their names¡ªLisa and Kathy, the latter short for Katherine or Kathleen, I wasn¡¯t sure which.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go back,¡± Lisa said, tugging on her friend¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Please! He was so amazing! I have to go back!¡±


    ¡°My sister¡¯s picking us up in half an hour!¡± Kathy protested. ¡°And I¡¯ve already got homework in my stupid English class.¡±


    I knew both of them were going to Brookdale Community College, like a lot of our former classmates. As much as I wanted out of this state, I was still jealous of them moving on, not stuck like I was, in limbo, waiting to finish something that should have been done already.


    ¡°Come on!¡± Lisa insisted. ¡°Just until your sister comes. I have to go back! He is so damned fine!¡±


    Aimee joined me, overhearing their conversation. She waved at Lisa, who had been in marching band, I remembered, so Aimee was far more friendly with her than I had been.


    ¡°Who¡¯s fine?¡±


    Lisa¡¯s eyes lit up from the inside, her round, moon-like face flushed pink as she gushed. ¡°There¡¯s a concert in the round, at the center of the mall. Some new band, I don¡¯t know the name. But oh my God, the lead singer is to die for!¡±


    ¡°He looks a lot like Tyler Vincent!¡± Cathy called over her shoulder as her friend dragged her toward the front of the store.


    Aimee met my eyes, hers wide with disbelief and recognition. Somehow I had known, the way Lisa fawned, that it had been Dale all along.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be.¡± Aimee shook her head. ¡°Isn¡¯t he meeting us here later to give us the tickets?¡±


    I nodded. I¡¯d offered to give him a ride to the mall, but he said he would already be there with a few of his friends. Now I understood what he meant, but I couldn¡¯t fathom why he wouldn¡¯t tell me his band was performing at the mall. Wasn¡¯t it a pretty big deal? Why wouldn¡¯t he want me to come? Why wouldn¡¯t he at least tell me and give me the opportunity?


    ¡°Come on,¡± Aimee insisted, snatching the Tyler Vincent album out of my hands and shoving it back into the slot before yanking me toward the front of the store. ¡°I can hear him.¡±


    I could hear him too. The music was faint, coming from the center of the mall just as they said, like a heartbeat. Aimee followed it and I followed her. The center of the mall was a popular meeting place. There were usually small climb-on toys set up for little kids to explore while parents sat and watched. A large elevator with a fountain in front carried shoppers between the mall¡¯s two floors.


    Today a stage had been set up, something I¡¯d seen before on a few occasions when they did mini fashion shows or presentations. It had been a big deal several years ago when Tiffany and Rick Astley appeared at a mall performance, before either of them had any real hits. That catchy Rick Astley tune, ¡°Never Gonna Give You Up,¡± had stuck in my head for months like an ear worm I couldn¡¯t get rid of.


    A stage had been set up and Dale was singing on it.


    But he wasn¡¯t just singing. He was performing.


    I¡¯d seen Tyler Vincent in concert six times since I was fourteen, with all the lights, and the floor-to-ceiling speakers, the costume and guitar changes, but I had never experienced anything quite like this. Dale¡¯s voice called to me, like the wail of a mythic siren or a magical Pied Piper. His singing voice, which I¡¯d heard only once over the phone, with just an acoustic accompaniment, was amplified a hundred, no a thousand times, with a microphone in his hand and a full band behind him.


    ¡°It¡¯s him!¡± Aimee announced, triumphant.


    Of course it was. I¡¯d known it all along.


    I wasn¡¯t the only one drawn to his energy, like a dark fire, heat lightning at midnight when the air hung so heavy you could barely breathe. Not that I could anyway. My breath had left my body. Girls crowded the front of the stage, hands outstretched, all of them just as transfixed as I was. In one short week, I felt like I knew Dale, I knew where he came from, who he was, what he was about. But this¡­ I hadn¡¯t seen this before. I¡¯d never seen this before.


    He didn¡¯t just exude energy, or even move it¡ªwith the force of his body prowling across the stage or the low growl of his voice¡ªhe commanded it. He was in complete control, not just of himself and of the band behind him, who played their best because of him¡ªsimply because his presence demanded it¡ªbut of the entire crowd. There were maybe fifty, a hundred people standing around the stage watching him perform, but I had a strong feeling it wouldn¡¯t have mattered, a hundred, a hundred thousand or a million, Dale could have commanded them all.


    The song was a Police cover, but the song didn¡¯t really even matter. It was Dale, pacing the stage like a predator, that hungry, greedy look in his eyes, the one he gave me when we were alone, parked in my car, our breath so warm it fogged the windows, our bodies strung tighter than any guitar strings. That was the look he gave me before he got out and walked away, denying himself, denying me too. Holding himself back, afraid he would lose control.


    But here, he let that part of him loose to roam the stage, back and forth, his voice calling for one in particular, and yet drawing them all. His gaze moved out into the crowd, like his body, back and forth, searching. It was the hungry longing that brought them all to the front of the stage, clamoring and screaming for him. I¡¯d seen old footage of Elvis concerts, and the Beatles too, girls so overtaken with emotion they cried or sank to their knees, overwhelmed with the experience.


    I¡¯d watched girls faint at Tyler Vincent¡¯s concerts over the years, had seen them jump up on stage only to be taken off by security. But even in that enormous stadium, Tyler Vincent hadn¡¯t elicited in me, or anyone around me, the same feeling Dale did with one dark, heated look.


    ¡°Come on.¡± Aimee shoved her way through the crowd like a linebacker, clutching her shopping bag to her chest, expecting me to follow. I couldn¡¯t do much else as the crowd parted before us at Aimee¡¯s insistence, filling in behind me as we moved through, as if flesh were water, the crowd all one entity.


    I don¡¯t know how she managed to get us to the front, but she was determined, and there were no security guards here pushing people back into their seats or checking tickets, like they did at the big stadiums during Tyler Vincent concerts. We were front and center and the man on stage had my full, undivided attention.


    From this vantage point, I could see every scuff on his combat boots, his jeans tight enough to conform to the contours of his body. He was pure energy, striding away from us now on stage, holding the microphone up as his body arched, holding one long, glorious note, and giving me and everyone else a flash of that studded belt and the ridged expanse of his abdomen. When he turned back toward us, I saw his t-shirt. It read, ¡°Black Diamond.¡±


    ¡°He saw you.¡± Aimee grabbed my arm, squealing and shaking me violently, but she wasn¡¯t telling me anything I didn¡¯t already know.


    Our eyes met and locked as the song came to a halt, followed by a screaming conclusion from the crowd, girls around us pressing me into the stage, forcing all the air out of my lungs, but I¡¯d forgotten about doing anything so basic as breathing. Dale Diamond had found me, and that hungry, wanting look I had seen him scanning the crowd with was suddenly focused entirely on me. The shift in energy was so sudden and obvious, everyone watching craned their necks to see what¡ªor who¡ªhe was looking at.


    He recovered quickly, reaching out to touch a few outstretched hands, melting the front row of girls like one long stick of butter as he moved closer toward me. He couldn¡¯t have planned it, he didn¡¯t know we would be there, but when he reached the spot on the stage in front of me and Aimee, he paused, his eyes never leaving mine. He hadn¡¯t stopped looking at me since he found me in the crowd. He had a look on his face caught somewhere between surprise and anger. I wondered if he was angry at me for being here, when he hadn¡¯t told me about it.

 Page 11

    He squatted 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¡ªand they were all girls of various ages, shapes, and sizes¡ªclamored 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.Advertisement


    He grabbed me under the arms like he was lifting a toddler, pulling me up on stage in front of everyone. If I had been thinking rationally, I would have been mortified, but I wasn¡¯t thinking at all. I looked at him like a stranger, someone I¡¯d never seen before, and he looked at me like I¡¯d been lost to him for a thousand years and finally found. The moment lasted a lifetime, the crowd still sustaining their energy, the cheers growing as Dale slipped his arms around my waist and drew me to him.


    My arms went around his neck as if we had done this a million times before as he pressed his forehead to mine, eyes closing, the deep swell of his breath pulled up from his lungs exhaling sweetly over my face. I was trembling, not on the outside but on the inside, his hands at the small of my back bringing our bellies in together, all of us met and matched in that moment except our mouths.


    I wanted to kiss him right there in front of everyone. I didn¡¯t care who was watching. And they all wanted what I wanted, every girl in front of that stage wishing she was the one up there with him, in his arms, one chosen out of many.


    He opened his eyes and pulled back to look at me, so hungry and wanting. I wanted him too. I wanted him to know it, to feel it. I stretched up on my tiptoes, twining my arms further around his neck, pulling him toward me, but Dale ducked his head, bending to bury his face in the crook of my neck, grabbing me around my hips and lifting me, spinning me around on the stage to the delight of the roaring crowd.


    CHAPTER EIGHT


    ¡°Hey.¡± The bassist tapped Dale on the shoulder, shaking his close-cropped, spiky blonde head, pointing to another band waiting at the edge of the stage for Black Diamond to finish.


    Dale remembered himself and where we were, grabbing the mic off the stand where he¡¯d left it, and telling the crowd, ¡°Thank you! Black Diamond will be performing in the MTV Battle of the Bands! Please come out to cheer us on!¡±


    The crowd went crazy, but I was already there as Dale swept me off the stage, grabbing his guitar leaning against one of the amps as we hurried down the steps. I wasn¡¯t prepared for girls asking for autographs, offering up bellies or hips or cleavage in lieu of paper. Dale refused to sign any skin, much to the chagrin of the mostly adolescent crowd, but he did use a black sharpie on a t-shirt or two. There were Black Diamond t-shirts for sale at a table being manned by a bespectacled middle-aged man with shoulder length hair wearing one of the band¡¯s t-shirts.


    I searched the crowd for Aimee, but Dale wouldn¡¯t let me go, holding my right hand so tightly in his left it started to ache. Finally, the crowd began thinning, drawn to the next band appearing onstage. They were far more bubblegum pop. Rick Astley with less soul, if that was possible. Any act following Dale and the Black Diamonds would have paled in comparison, but this was like attending a church bake sale after a trip to Disney World. I was just about to insist on going to look for Aimee when she found us. She had also apparently found Matt. Or he had found her. He was shielding her with his body as they made their way through the crowd toward us.


    ¡°Oh my God, Dale, you are amazing!¡± Aimee exclaimed, looking just as shiny-eyed as all of the other girls in the crowd. Matt stuck a hand out and Dale shook it. I wasn¡¯t about to start asking why Dale hadn¡¯t invited us to the mall performance in the first place, not here, not now.


    ¡°Great show.¡± Matt gave Dale a brief nod. ¡°I¡¯m Matt Green.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Dale replied. ¡°So you¡¯re the guy bringing Aimee to the Tyler Vincent concert with us?¡±


    ¡°That would be me.¡± Matt agreed, putting an arm around Aimee¡¯s shoulders. Behind us, the rest of the Black Diamonds were packing up their gear and for some reason, giving me what I couldn¡¯t interpret any other way as ¡°dirty looks.¡± I couldn¡¯t fathom why, considering I had yet to meet even one of them.


    ¡°Nice to meet you, I¡¯m Sara.¡± I smiled at Matt¡ªhe was cute, tall and clean-cut, wearing chinos and a navy blue Izod polo, the collar turned fashionably up. Aimee looked so pleased with herself she was practically buzzing.


    ¡°I can give you your tickets.¡± Dale led me by the hand¡ªhe still hadn¡¯t let go¡ªand Aimee and Matt followed over to the t-shirt table where one lone shirt remained. It had a little hole along the underarm seam, which was clearly why it had been left. Plus, it looked pretty small.


    ¡°Hey, Dad, you got those tickets for me?¡± Dale held his hand out and the bespectacled, long-haired man looked up from putting money in the change box long enough to dig out his wallet.


    ¡°Your dad?¡± I prompted, blinking up at Dale.


    ¡°Oh, yeah. This is my dad.¡± Dale made the introductions as he handed two of the tickets over to Aimee, giving the other two to me. ¡°Dad, this is Sara. And her friend, Aimee, and Aimee¡¯s boyfriend, Matt.¡±


    Aimee blushed at the word ¡°boyfriend,¡± but I noticed Matt didn¡¯t balk at the term.


    Dale¡¯s dad had kind eyes and an even kinder smile. ¡°Nice to meet you. You can call me John.¡±


    I looked at the tickets before putting them in my purse. They were front row, center, just as Dale had promised. I tucked them safely away, still stunned.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to get something to eat and then head to the movies,¡± Dale told him. ¡°Can you take my gear home?¡±


    ¡°Sure. No more boxes of shirts to load in the car!¡± John opened his arms as if to show us the nearly empty table.


    Dale¡¯s eyebrows went up. ¡°We sold out?¡±


    ¡°That one¡¯s ripped.¡± Aimee noticed it too.


    I picked the white t-shirt up off the table, inspecting the tear. It was very small, more like a child¡¯s size. ¡°Can I have it?¡±


    John waved it away. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be worth a million dollars some day,¡± Matt joked.


    I winked at Dale. ¡°I can say I knew you when.¡±


    He leaned over, nuzzling my ear, a warm puff of his breath sending goose bumps down my arm as he whispered, ¡°You won¡¯t need to.¡±


    I thought my legs might give out right there, in front of everyone.


    ¡°So you¡¯re all right?¡± Dale asked his father. ¡°The guys will help you load up.¡±


    ¡°Sure. You two go have fun.¡± John smiled at me again, that same kind smile that reached his eyes, the sort you knew was genuine. ¡°Nice to meet you, Sara.¡±


    ¡°You too, Mr¡­ uh¡­ John.¡±


    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¡ªthe guy with the short, spiky blonde hair¡ªwaved 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¡ªand 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.

 Page 12

    ¡°I know, we¡¯re wicked early,¡± I agreed, watching Aimee wiggle out of her jeans, toeing off her Converse sneakers and standing there in her stocking feet as she shoved her jeans back into the bag. ¡°Dale wasn¡¯t happy.¡±


    Aimee snorted, pulling two boxes out and putting them on the shelf. ¡°Why didn¡¯t he tell you he was playing?¡±Advertisement


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Which ones?¡± Aimee opened both boxes, showing me her choices like I hadn¡¯t been there when she¡¯d picked them out. I pretended to contemplate, but I knew which ones I liked better. So I told her to wear the other ones.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± She slipped on the short black boots with the skinny, high heel, turning to look at her profile in the mirror. Her curly red hair was like a river of fire down the back of her black dress.


    ¡°Positive.¡± I took the shoes out of the other box. ¡°Can I borrow these?¡±


    She wore a shoe half a size bigger than me, but it was close enough.


    ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°Incentive.¡± I grinned, pulling my oversize t-shirt off and slipping on the Black Diamond one. It was three sizes too small, making it more of a half-shirt, coming down to just above my navel and hugging my breasts like a second skin. Balancing against the sink, I yanked off my socks and slipped Aimee¡¯s new shoes on. They were higher than anything I was used to wearing¡ªthree inches at least¡ªa soft, velvet heel with a black strap around the ankle and a silver buckle on the side. Sexy as hell.


    I bent to do the buckles and then stood next to Aimee in the mirror, surveying the landscape, which was quite attractive.


    Aimee gave a low whistle. ¡°Your legs go on forever in those things.¡±


    ¡°Sure you don¡¯t mind?¡± I turned to look at myself from behind, jeans huggingly tight, the shirt revealing a good expanse of my lower back.


    Aimee shook her head. ¡°Dale is going to die. He¡¯s going to jump you right there in the middle of the mall.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the idea.¡± I grinned, reaching for my purse and searching through it for my makeup bag. ¡°Let¡¯s make the boys drool.¡±


    Aimee gave me the bag full of clothes so I could stash them in my car¡ªshe¡¯d be going home with Matt¡ªand we walked out of the bathroom two very different women than had gone in. Aimee left her long hair down on my suggestion, but I¡¯d gathered mine up, pulling it back in a banana clip, a loose, intentionally messy look that left my neck exposed. Tempting. I hoped.


    If I¡¯d had any doubts before I saw Dale turn as we approached, they vanished the minute I caught the look on his face. He and Matt stood talking where the t-shirt table had been, but it was gone now, along with Dale¡¯s father and the band. Matt saw us first, jaw dropping and eyes widening. A few wolf-whistles followed us.


    I heard Aimee giggle, felt her nudge me, but Dale glanced in our direction and the moment he did, everything else disappeared.


    I thought I¡¯d memorized every possible Dale-look, but this one floored me. I actually stopped in my tracks, feeling the force of it from five feet away. It wasn¡¯t the same voracious gaze I¡¯d almost grown used to from him, the one that followed me through the halls at the academy, leaving me breathless and aching alone in my car when we said goodbye. This was far more dangerous than that.


    This look said mine. No one had ever looked at me like that before, utterly possessive in not just gaze but action too. Dale took two strides toward me, pulling me into the circle of his arms and growling into my ear. No words, but a low, sustained growl rumbling through my whole body, his hands on my lower back again, this time touching skin, the shock of it thrilling me beyond words. I dropped Aimee¡¯s shopping bag and my purse onto the floor, putting my arms around him, feeling his body tighten, like a bowstring pulled too taut, an arrow just waiting to be released.


    ¡°Hungry?¡± I whispered, my lips brushing his neck, not a kiss, just a caress. I felt his breath catch and his arms tighten, crushing me, not that I cared. I¡¯d never felt so wanted.


    He groaned, pulling back to meet my eyes. ¡°Fucking starving.¡±


    The way he looked at me, I knew he wasn¡¯t talking about food.


    Of course, neither was I.


    CHAPTER NINE


    ¡°Hey, we¡¯re going,¡± Aimee called. Matt held her hand as they walked by. ¡°We¡¯ll see you at the movie?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a double-date, but we would end up at the same theater.


    ¡°See you,¡± I said weakly, forcing myself to look away from Dale¡¯s dark gaze and waving as they headed toward the mall exit. Aimee grinned back at me and gave me a goofy thumbs up over her shoulder.


    ¡°BEE good, you two!¡± Dale called, letting me go, at least partially, sliding an arm around my waist so he could turn and wave to them.


    Matt barked a laugh, waving back, and Aimee shot me a scathing look that said I was obviously in big trouble for telling Dale the bee story, all while sticking her tongue out and simultaneously flipping him off.


    I laughed, reaching down to pick up my purse and the shopping bag full of clothes. Dale took my hand as we headed toward the food court, my heels clicking loudly on the mall tile floor, reminding me with every step what I was wearing. And it was getting noticed, just like I had planned¡ªalthough it was Dale I wanted to notice, not the adolescent guys passing us doing double-takes and making remarks just out of earshot.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen one of our t-shirts looks so attractive,¡± Dale snapped as we neared the food court.


    ¡°You like it?¡± I teased.


    He tilted his head at me, smirking. ¡°I think I¡¯d like it better off you.¡±


    We were at the food court now and I tossed my purse and the shopping bag into a chair at an empty table, making like I was about to strip off my t-shirt right there in the middle of the mall. Dale scowled, grabbing my hands and pulling me to him.


    ¡°Hey. That¡¯s mine.¡±


    Mine. He actually said the word written all over his face. It went through me like an arrow. It could have pinned me right to him, straight through my heart, and I wouldn¡¯t have cared.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± His eye softened as he looked down at me, and for just a moment, I inwardly panicked.


    I asked myself the same question. Constantly. I had two front row seats to see Tyler Vincent tucked away in my purse like the most delicious secret in the world, and I could have cared less. What was wrong with me? What did I want? I thought I knew. Before Dale Diamond came along, I could have told you in detail what I wanted. Now I had no idea.


    ¡°Sara, you¡¯re starving. I can hear your stomach growling. Don¡¯t you ever eat?¡±


    That¡¯s when I realized he was asking me what I wanted to eat.


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen me eat.¡± I felt my face turning red, embarrassed he¡¯d noticed, but of course he had.


    His eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°You¡¯re not anorexic are you?¡±


    I shook my head, deciding to sacrifice my best friend rather than tell him my own truth. ¡°Not me. Aimee¡¯s the one who¡¯s anorexic. Well, she was. Anorexic and bulimic. That¡¯s why she¡¯s at the academy this year. She didn¡¯t graduate because she spent most of our senior year in a treatment center.¡±


    He nodded, thoughtful. ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not anorexic!¡± I scoffed. ¡°I eat Skittles and pizza. And big piles of orange chicken from Panda Express.¡±


    I pointed to the Panda Express in the corner of the food court, grinning.


    He laughed. ¡°Is that what you want?¡±


    ¡°Yep. Can I pay you back?¡± It was what I¡¯d said all week long when he insisted I accompany him through the fast-food lunch line and I couldn¡¯t resist a slice of pizza or a bag of fries.


    ¡°Stop saying you¡¯re going to pay me back. I got it, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°You stay here. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± Dale started toward Panda Express, stopping and looking back at me, thoughtful, and then turned around, shrugging off his black denim jacket and draping it over my shoulders as I sat at the table. He gave a short, satisfied nod and turned on his heel again, going to buy us dinner.


    I sat and smiled to myself like an idiot, watching him standing in line.


    I hated not having money. I hated being poor. Kensington Gardens offered cheap housing to low-income families¡ªlike mine¡ªbut I wondered why Dale and his father had ended up in such a rundown place. John, Dale¡¯s father, seemed like a nice man, smart¡ªhe must be, to have obtained a teaching position at Rutgers. Maybe he didn¡¯t realize when he signed the lease what type of people lived at Kensington? Or maybe he¡¯d chosen it because it was so close to the academy where Dale would be finishing his high school diploma? His salary at Rutgers couldn¡¯t be that bad, I reasoned.


    I wished I still had the job at Dairy Queen. I¡¯d used all my money to pay for my car and had tucked the rest away into a secret bank account no one knew about, except Aimee, for my impending trip to Maine. But my job at Dairy Queen had been seasonal, the summer before our senior year. I had worked on and off at the beginning of our senior year at the movie theater, taking tickets. That was a much better job than Dairy Queen, paid better too, and I¡¯d put even more into savings, but then everything at home had imploded and I couldn¡¯t work or go to school or do anything anymore.


    Dale was ordering our food, and I noticed how girls noticed him. I couldn¡¯t blame them really. He drew my eye instantly. I found myself looking at him, staring at him, unable to take my eyes off him. It was sick, but there seemed to be no cure for this disease. He wasn¡¯t just a rock star on stage. It was like he was born to be one. People already looked at him that way, and at the age of twenty, it was disconcerting to find someone like Dale in the middle of my tiny town in New Jersey. You didn¡¯t expect to find someone like him here. Maybe in New York, or California, where everyone was beautiful and perfect and aspired to be an actor or a musician. But here?


    Dale reached into his back pocket for his wallet, giving me another flash of that sexy, studded belt he always wore. I wondered at its significance. He wore it like a talisman, all the time. Maybe it was just part of the marketing plan, the t-shirts, like the one I wore with its eye-catching logo, the tie-in of the band name, Black Diamond, with his own last name. It was all very smart.


    Whatever the reason, the belt was hot. Dale wearing the belt was hotter. I couldn¡¯t help but think about him. Somehow he had replaced my night time fantasies of Tyler Vincent. I didn¡¯t know when it had happened in the short time I¡¯d known him, but Dale Diamond had obscured Tyler Vincent like a solar eclipse, leaving only a faded ring, like a faint stain from a mug on a coffee table. Was what I felt for Tyler Vincent really so shallow?


    I was ashamed and even a little embarrassed by my loyalty shift from the only man who had filled my thoughts for the past five years to the guy paying for my dinner at Panda Express in the mall food court. One was larger than life, on screen and everywhere, all the time. The other was in my life, here, with me, and looked at me in a way I hardly could believe was real.


    He was looking that way at me as he made his way back to our table, putting down the tray and giving me a once over as I leaned back in my chair, smiling at him. I saw him glance at the expanse of skin above the waistband of my jeans and below the far too-tight and too-small end of the Black Diamond t-shirt I was wearing. It felt good to know he both appreciated the way I looked, and at the same time, wanted to keep it to himself, as evidenced by the jacket he had put around my shoulders before he left.

 Page 13

    ¡°I got you a Coke.¡± Dale sat, not across from me, but next to me, unpacking the food, sliding a Styrofoam tray of orange chicken and noodles in front of me. My stomach growled its thanks, and I grabbed a plastic fork, digging in happily. I hadn¡¯t eaten like this in a long time. Not that any of it, the pizza and the fries and the Coke and Panda Express, were good for me, or anyone for that matter. It¡¯s just that we never ate out. There was just no money for it. Not even McDonald¡¯s. Food like this was exotic and painfully delicious to my palate, all the salt and sugar and fat concentrated in every bite. This stuff was like a party in my mouth when I was used to granola bars and peanut butter and jelly and dry cereal because the milk had run out and we didn¡¯t have the money to buy more.


    Most importantly, my body seemed to know it was Dale who was feeding me and rejoiced with every bite, was like it was turning this junk food into fuel for the fire I already had burning in my belly for him.Advertisement


    ¡°So Aimee¡¯s at the academy because she was in treatment last year?¡± Dale picked up our conversation where we¡¯d left off, spooning fried rice into his mouth at a dizzying pace.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I frowned, remembering. ¡°Our friendship almost ended over it. I was the one who told her mom. Aimee forgave me¡­ eventually.¡±


    Dale nodded, chewing thoughtfully. ¡°You did the right thing. She¡¯s obviously better now.¡±


    ¡°Better, yes.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Not completely, maybe not ever. She still has her issues with food and dieting and stuff. But she¡¯s not eighty pounds anymore.¡±


    He gave a low whistle. ¡°That¡¯s emaciated.¡±


    ¡°She was pretty sick,¡± I agreed. I didn¡¯t like to think about it. She¡¯d fooled everyone for so long, wearing big clothes to hide it. If I hadn¡¯t walked in on her in the bathroom one morning after a sleepover¡ªshe¡¯d locked the door, but it hadn¡¯t closed all the way and had just pushed open¡ªshe might have ended up in the cemetery instead of a treatment center.


    ¡°So how did you end up at the academy?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t tell him even though I wanted to. He wasn¡¯t asking because it was perfunctory. This wasn¡¯t just making casual conversation. He was genuinely interested in me. He just wanted to know. But I still couldn¡¯t tell him. I couldn¡¯t reveal something so dark, so sinister. Not to this bright, dazzling, amazing guy sitting across from me. What would he think of me then? It would ruin everything.


    Some part of me said, ¡°Go ahead. Tell him.¡± That part of me wanted to sabotage the fragile bud beginning to bloom between us. If I told him now, he¡¯d never talk to me again. Then I would be free once more to pursue my crazy but persistent obsession with Tyler Vincent. I could move to Maine and go to college there without any guilt or remorse. Telling him would force him to reject me. I knew it¡¯s what I should do. It¡¯s what my head told me was the smartest, most logical thing in the world I could do.


    ¡°You tell me first,¡± I said through a mouthful of noodles, grabbing my Coke and taking a long sip.


    ¡°I dropped out in my senior year. Three years ago.¡± Dale sipped his Coke too, looking at me over the rim. He had a way of seeing into me that was disconcerting. I felt naked in front of him.


    ¡°Let me guess? You wanted to make it in the music business?¡±


    ¡°My parents were having problems.¡± He sat back in his chair, picking at his food. ¡°My mom left. Me and my dad moved to Seattle. That¡¯s when I really started getting serious about music.¡±


    ¡°And your dad was okay with you quitting school?¡±


    He snorted. ¡°No. But I didn¡¯t give him a say. I moved out.¡±


    ¡°So how did you end up here?¡±


    ¡°I told you. He got a job at Rutgers.¡± He seemed far away now, distant. I didn¡¯t like it.


    ¡°But you weren¡¯t living with him?¡±


    Dale shrugged. ¡°He asked me to come with him. Said he¡¯d pay for everything, let me live with him, and I could pursue my music as long as I was working on getting my diploma.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°So the academy is your compromise.¡±


    ¡°Well, I knew about the Battle of the Bands before we moved.¡± He flashed me a brief smile. God, that dimple. ¡°MTV did them last year in New York, and I had it on good authority they were going to do them again this year. I figured I¡¯d have time to put a band together and give it a shot.¡±


    ¡°Well now that I¡¯ve seen you, I think you¡¯ve got a pretty good one,¡± I said honestly. That was an understatement. I couldn¡¯t imagine anyone beating them.


    ¡°You think so?¡±


    I nudged him with my knee under the table. ¡°I think you know it.¡±


    ¡°I still like to hear it.¡± He turned to look at me, his eyes searching. ¡°Especially from you.¡±


    I smiled, reaching over and taking his hand, giving him exactly what he¡¯d asked for. He deserved it. ¡°You¡¯re very good. You¡¯re an amazing singer. You¡¯re an incredible performer. I¡¯ve never seen a crowd go crazy like that for someone they¡¯d never seen before. I mean, celebrity takes time. Exposure. I think you¡¯re one of those people who draws other people in. Like a magnet. You¡¯re going to have people following you around, no matter what you do. For the rest of your life.¡±


    He was actually blushing. ¡°Why do you say that?¡±


    ¡°Because that¡¯s how you make me feel,¡± I confessed, biting my lip, almost wishing I hadn¡¯t said it.


    ¡°Hm.¡± He made a little noise in his throat, turning my hand over in his, tracing the lines in my palm with his fingertip like he was following a road map. ¡°How do I make you feel?¡±


    ¡°Like I would follow you anywhere,¡± I whispered.


    He lifted my hand and pressed his lips to my palm, closing his eyes briefly, and I noticed how long and dark his lashes were before he looked at me with that intense, blue gaze, telling me more with one look than either of us could ever say in words.


    ¡°When I saw you in the audience today, I don¡¯t even know how to tell you what it did to me.¡± He shook his head, twining his fingers with mine.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me you were performing?¡±


    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t want that to happen.¡± He gave a short laugh. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to be distracted. I wasn¡¯t supposed to let myself get distracted¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± I snapped my fingers. Now all the dirty looks made sense. ¡°Your band thinks I¡¯m your Yoko Ono, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°You kind of are.¡± He met my eyes, the emotion in them so strong I felt it before he even said the words. ¡°Sara, I don¡¯t think you understand what you do to me.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Now it was my turn to ask him.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t think,¡± he confessed. ¡°Thank God the song was over, because the minute I saw you¡­ I was done for.¡±


    ¡°Oh please.¡± I smiled, teasing him. ¡°All those screaming girls. I¡¯m surprised they weren¡¯t throwing panties at you.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes they do.¡± He grinned. ¡°But that never mattered to me.¡±


    I blinked in surprise. ¡°What does matter to you?¡±


    ¡°Now? You.¡± He squeezed my hand in his, that was all, but the sensation shot up my arm with a jolt that nearly knocked me off my chair.


    ¡°Dale, do you realize how crazy that sounds?¡± I whispered, glancing around like someone might overhear us. ¡°We¡¯ve only known each other for a week.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes the best things in life are crazy.¡±


    I laughed. ¡°I can¡¯t argue with that.¡±


    It was crazy.


    It was all crazy.


    Me and Tyler Vincent.


    Me and Dale Diamond.


    But somehow the latter had fully eclipsed the former in my mind¡ªand my heart¡ªat least in the moment. There wasn¡¯t even a ring left around that sun.


    CHAPTER TEN


    I didn¡¯t see Aimee and Matt while we were standing in line buying tickets and popcorn, but I spotted them once we were in the theater. Dale wanted to sit near the back and he picked our seats, letting me in first and sitting on the aisle himself, but Aimee and Matt were up near the front¡ªwhere she and I usually sat, so we could see Tyler Vincent up close and personal. For some reason, with Dale next to me, I didn¡¯t regret not being any closer.


    Aimee saw me and waved. So did Matt. But when he turned back to the front, she mouthed, ¡°Call me!¡± with her thumb and finger up to her ear like a telephone. I had a feeling she didn¡¯t want to talk about the movie we were about to see, and strangely enough, neither did I. Dale smiled, tipping her a wave and she waved back, turning around and talking to Matt again.


    ¡°Popcorn?¡± He tilted the tub toward me and I took some, although I was still full from Panda Express. ¡°I can¡¯t see a movie without popcorn. It¡¯s like listening to a Walkman with only one headphone.¡±


    ¡°I always have to finish it before the movie. Too much noise and distraction otherwise.¡±


    ¡°No problem there.¡± Dale tossed a piece of popcorn up and caught it in his teeth.


    ¡°Show off.¡±


    ¡°So tell me something¡­¡± Dale tried his popcorn trick again and missed this time. ¡°How long have you been a Tyler Vincent fan?¡±


    I shrank from the question, knees up, down in my seat¡ªthe same position I¡¯d met him in, I realized, tucked behind my desk, trying to hide myself behind a notebook.


    ¡°Oh I don¡¯t know, a while.¡± I sipped my Coke, looking around the theater, trying to sound casual. Most of the audience was female, some in groups, others with their boyfriends or, if they were bit older, presumably, their husbands. This was Tyler¡¯s third movie in five years. His first ever was a romantic comedy, which had done okay at the box office, his second an action/thriller that bombed, so they¡¯d obviously decided to go back to what worked.


    His fan base was undeniably mostly women, some who started listening to him in their teens, way back in the late sixties when he first hit it big, singing long-haired, silly love songs like Paul McCartney and the Beatles. But the Beatles had broken up and stopped singing. Tyler Vincent just rolled with the changes, reinventing himself. When MTV had debuted music videos in 1981, when I was about fourteen, his had been one of the first they played, a single from his new album.


    And suddenly Tyler Vincent was a star again in his mid-thirties, with fourteen-year-old girl screaming at his concerts and a brand new fan base to run and see him on the big screen. They didn¡¯t do close-ups¡ªhe was in his early forties now¡ªbut they still loved filming him shirtless, which made all the girls in the theater go crazy. Not that his age had ever mattered to me, then or now.


    ¡°Well you¡¯re not alone¡ªobviously.¡± Dale offered the popcorn to me again and I took a handful this time, just to keep my mouth full and avoid talking. ¡°Probably twenty years¡¯ worth of fans sitting in this theater.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± I agreed carefully. ¡°Not many rock stars can say that.¡±


    Dale shrugged. ¡°Aerosmith¡¯s making a comeback. What¡¯s old is new. At least it¡¯s not New Kids on the Block. I couldn¡¯t stand it.¡±

 Page 14

    ¡°Even for me?¡± I teased.


    He gave me a wry look, eyebrows raised. ¡°Maybe for you.¡±Advertisement


    His response filled me with warmth. So did the touch of his thigh on mine, denim against denim, and I could have sworn he was sitting that way, legs sprawled out, just for that reason. The theater was filling up, but it was opening weekend, so I wasn¡¯t surprised. Three girls as across the aisle from us and I did a double-take, noticing one of the was Holly Larson from our chemistry class. She gave Dale an appreciative look and a wave and he waved back.


    ¡°Open.¡± Dale turned to me, a piece of popcorn aimed at my mouth.


    I obeyed, sticking out my tongue, and he threw the popped kernel with perfect accuracy. It landed right in the middle of my tongue. I pulled it in, chewing and laughing.


    ¡°I bet you can¡¯t do that again.¡±


    ¡°Is that a challenge?¡± He raised his eyebrows, picking out another piece of popcorn. ¡°Open.¡±


    I opened my mouth, waiting. He aimed again but I made it harder this time, not sticking out my tongue, and the piece hit my chin, bouncing off. I glanced down and saw it stuck right in the V of the Black Diamond t-shirt.


    ¡°Want me to get that?¡± he offered, grinning.


    I rolled my eyes, picking the popcorn out of my cleavage and, instead of eating it myself, leaning over and pressing it to his lips. Dale opened his mouth, taking it gently, his eyes flashing, devilish. It made my belly clench in response and my breath quicken. Damn he was sexy.


    And I wasn¡¯t the only one who noticed. The three girls¡ªHolly Larson included¡ªwere loud, giggling and squealing, likely about the movie and Tyler¡¯s appearance in it, but I saw the Holly kept looking over at Dale, watching him digging through the tub of popcorn.


    I leaned in to whisper in his ear. ¡°Don¡¯t look now, but I think they¡¯re talking about you.¡±


    ¡°Holly Larson?¡± He glanced in their direction. ¡°She¡¯s in my English class. Did you know she had to give up her baby last year? She didn¡¯t even have a choice. Her parents forced her.¡±


    ¡°I heard rumors.¡± I took a sweet drink of Coke to wash down my own bitterness, refusing to look over in her direction.


    ¡°Hey, Mr. Rockstar, can I have your autograph so I can say I knew you when?¡±


    We both looked up, seeing Holly Larson herself standing next to Dale. Her smile was all for him. She didn¡¯t even look at me.


    ¡°Sorry I don¡¯t have a pen,¡± he apologized with a shrug, glancing at me.


    ¡°Here.¡± She produced a black pen from her purse. ¡°I saw your show. You were so good.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Dale smiled, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. Funny how I already knew his smiles. ¡°Do you have¡­ uh¡­¡±


    He made a motion like he was signing his hand but Holly was already pulling up her shirt, exposing her navel and arching her back. Her belly was smooth and flat and tanned, like she¡¯d spent hours in the sun, although how that was possible in the middle of New Jersey was beyond me. Tanning bed maybe?


    ¡°Here¡¯s good.¡± She cocked her hip, smirking at him.


    Dale blinked, glancing at me. ¡°You got any paper?¡±


    ¡°I think I have a maxi-pad in my purse.¡± I glared at Holly feeling like I could have picked her up and thrown her. I felt Dale laughing silently next to me, clearly amused.


    ¡°Tell you what¡­¡± He tilted the popcorn tub, scrawling his name on the side. ¡°Take this.¡±


    She frowned. ¡°There¡¯s still popcorn in it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all yours.¡± He shook it at her and she took it that time.


    ¡°Well thanks.¡± She hugged the popcorn tub to her chesty-chest. She was practically falling out of her shirt. ¡°Hey, my cousin is having a party later¡­ do you want to come?¡±


    Dale smiled, but I could tell he was getting tired of her. ¡°Sorry, I got plans.¡±


    ¡°Well okay,¡± she relented, starting to go, but then she turned back, plucking the pen out of Dale¡¯s hand¡ªhe was still holding it¡ªand grabbing that same arm. ¡°If you change your mind, call me¡­¡±


    She proceeded to write something on his inner forearm before Dale could protest, looking at me for the first time, and I knew she¡¯d seen us get in trouble for writing on the tables in chemistry that first day. She¡¯d seen me write my number on Dale¡¯s hand.


    Then she was gone, back giggling and squawking with her friends.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± he muttered, rubbing at the black ink on his arm as he turned back to me.


    I was burning with anger, telling myself I had no reason to be mad as I sank down in my seat, hugging my Coke.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m sorry,¡± he apologized, leaning over so only I could hear him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I just shook my head and shrugged, sucking up sweetness through my straw before putting my Coke in the drink holder on the other side. ¡°Previews are starting.¡±


    But I was still mad. And he knew it. I heard him swear under his breath as the lights went down. We sat through a trailer for Batman with Michael Keaton, inches away from each other, but no longer touching. I knew I had no real right to be mad, and Dale hadn¡¯t done anything except sign an autograph for a fan. I didn¡¯t even know why I was so angry. I should have been ecstatic, sitting there waiting to see the new Tyler Vincent movie, and instead I was fuming, my hands clenched into fists.


    ¡°Hey.¡± Dale touched my hand, his calloused fingers gently prying mine open, head bent close. ¡°Hey now. Let me in.¡±


    I shot him a sideways look. ¡°Who are you, the big bad wolf?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me huff and puff.¡± His breath was soft and buttery against my cheek as he gained ground on my hand, teasing my fingers open.


    ¡°The three little pigs are over there.¡± I jerked my head toward the ¡°Tyler trio¡± in the middle of our aisle, the three of them squealing as Tyler appeared on the screen twenty-feet tall, shirtless¡ªof course¡ªsweat dripping off his gloriously tanned body, multi-colored lights flashing over his black guitar as he strode across the stage. The romantic comedy about the rock star, starring an actual rock star, starting off with concert footage. How original.


    Dale chuckled, twining his fingers with mine, leaving our hands resting comfortably on my thigh. He seemed satisfied he¡¯d repaired our little rift, and he was right, but that just made me madder. All he had to do was flash that smile and take my hand, and I relented, turning to jelly. I was disgusted with myself, but couldn¡¯t seem to stop it. Some part of me just wanted to give into him.


    Yeah, the part in love with Tyler Vincent.


    Was that it? I¡¯d been trying to convince myself all week that resistance was futile simply because I was conditioned to salivate every time I saw a man who looked even a little like Tyler Vincent. Besides, he couldn¡¯t have hit any more of my hot buttons if he¡¯d tried. Guitar player? Check. Singer? Check. Sexy as hell? Check. And it seemed like no one could resist Dale, if this afternoon¡¯s show and his new fans¡¯ enthusiasm were any indication. But when he set his mind on something and turned his full attention to it?


    No wonder I was lost.


    On screen, Tyler played to a crowd a million times bigger than Dale had earlier that afternoon, a sight that usually made me swoon, but not today. What was wrong with me? Tyler Vincent was my whole world. But it wasn¡¯t Tyler who was making my belly churn and my breath catch in my chest and my toes to curl in Aimee¡¯s brand new shoes. It was the warmth of Dale¡¯s hand in mine, the shift of him in his seat, the way he glanced over at me when he thought I wasn¡¯t looking, studying my profile with soft eyes.


    Dale let go of my hand and I looked at him, surprised. He smiled, putting his arm around the back of my seat, resting his forearm lightly over my neck, his hand cupping the rounded curve of my shoulder under his denim jacket. I gave a little sigh, leaning against him, doing my best to get lost in Tyler Vincent¡¯s world¡ªa place more familiar to me than home¡ªbut it seemed the more I tried, the more I was distracted by Dale, the way he had of rubbing his thumb over my shoulder and leaning just a little closer, breathing in deep, like he was trying to take me in.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Dale murmured.


    I swallowed and nodded, but I didn¡¯t know anymore. Tyler Vincent was there, right in front of me, the man of my dreams. I should have been screaming and crazy and swooning like the rest of the girls in the theater, but I could barely keep my eyes on the screen, let alone my mind or anything else.


    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¡ªAimee 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¡ªthe 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¡ªtypical 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.¡±

 Page 15

    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¡ªI was still wearing it. Then he lifted his head, pressing his forehead to mine. ¡°No backseats for my Cinderella.¡±Advertisement


    ¡°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¡ªleaving the shopping bag on the floor in the back, deciding I¡¯d get it in the morning¡ªand 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¡ªyou weren¡¯t supposed to be able to get in without a key or pushing a buzzer¡ªbut 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¡ª


    ¡°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¡ªeven in the wee hours of the morning¡ªbut 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¡ªwhat 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¡ªand 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¡ªthere 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.¡±

 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.¡±Advertisement


    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¡ªit 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¡ªTyler Vincent¡¯s daughter¡¯s name¡ªexcept 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¡ªand 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.

 Page 17

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you came back,¡± I whispered as we rocked together on my bed. ¡°Why did you even come back?¡±


    ¡°Because¡­¡± His breath moved warm against my ear, sending shivers through me. ¡°You¡¯re mine. I knew it the first time I saw you. I will always come for you, Sara. Always.¡±Advertisement


    I couldn¡¯t respond, there just weren¡¯t words, so I kissed him, pressing my lips fully to his.


    He held me close, whispering my name.


    We stayed like that a long time, not talking, just hanging onto each other. I couldn¡¯t have foreseen anything like this, I reasoned, snuggling closer. Dale sighed softly, and I held onto him, knowing that whatever happened, nothing would ever be the same again.


    Part Two


    The Headliner


    CHAPTER TWELVE


    ¡°Happy Halloween!¡± John opened the door when I knocked and I laughed when I saw his costume.


    ¡°Crocodile Dundee?¡± I guessed.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, mate!¡± He gave me a thumbs up, doing his best Australian accent as I came into the apartment, shutting the door behind me. ¡°Dale¡¯s in his room. Are you sure you two don¡¯t want to go out to a party or something?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine here giving out candy,¡± I assured him, heading back to Dale¡¯s room, following the sound of the guitar.


    I opened the door without knocking, finding Dale sitting on the bed, shirtless and barefoot, playing his acoustic. He looked up when he saw me, smiling, but didn¡¯t stop playing as I closed the door, leaning against it, just watching him. He still took my breath away, two months into our relationship and every time I saw him, it was like flashbulbs and noisemakers went off in my head, alerting me the world¡¯s best party was about to begin.


    The song was familiar and he played beautifully, hair falling across his face as he looked down, moving his fingers over the strings, playing the chords. Thank goodness there was a door to lean against, because for me, seeing him shirtless and barefoot with a guitar in his lap was like dangling raw meat in a tiger¡¯s cage. I wanted to jump him right there. The last note of the song hung in the air as he peeked up at me, still smiling that dimple-making smile, his gaze starting at my face and sweeping downward¡ªjust jeans and a t-shirt, nothing fancy, but he looked at me like I¡¯d walked in wearing an evening gown.


    He always looked at me like that.


    ¡°Your father is dressed up as a Crocodile Dundee,¡± I remarked, moving forward toward him¡ªtoward the bed.


    ¡°I know.¡± He rolled his eyes, setting his guitar aside, leaning it against the nightstand, and holding his arms out to me. ¡°Thank God he didn¡¯t decide to go shirtless.¡±


    ¡°Or as Boy George.¡± I went to him, toeing off my sneakers as he tumbled me backwards onto the bed. Dale had a double bed. It was like swimming in the ocean after playing in the kiddie pool compared to mine.


    ¡°God forbid.¡± He captured my mouth before I could say another word, tasting like Tootsie rolls and Gatorade, a combination I had noted sitting on his night table. His lips, as always, were soft, inviting me to open to him. John didn¡¯t care what we did in Dale¡¯s room. Dale was an adult¡ªthat¡¯s what John said¡ªand what went on in Dale¡¯s room was Dale¡¯s business. It was so foreign to me to come across a parent who didn¡¯t try to control every aspect of their child¡¯s life¡ªeven if that child wasn¡¯t technically a child at all anymore.


    Not that we did anything in Dale¡¯s room that we didn¡¯t do outside of Dale¡¯s room. So far, in spite of my myriad of attempts at seducing this gorgeous man in my arms, we had done nothing but kiss. Just kiss. When my hands went to stray, he caught them and trapped me, kissing me into submission until I was so dizzy I forgot where they were headed in the first place. When his hands moved to those places I longed and ached for him to touch, just my response seemed to remind him he wanted to wait.


    Except I didn¡¯t know what we were waiting for.


    ¡°You are going to be a rock star.¡± I whispered against his mouth, stroking the slight stubble on his cheek. He had discovered how ticklish I was when he rubbed his five o¡¯clock shadow on my neck or belly, and I think he¡¯d stopped shaving so often just for that reason.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Dale licked the corner of my mouth, first one side, then the other. ¡°As long as I¡¯m your rock star.¡±


    ¡°Ha.¡± I rolled him onto his back, grabbing his hands in mine, pinning them over his head, straddling him at the waist. Looking down, everything I could see of him was naked. It made my thighs quiver as they squeezed him, focusing on that deliciously dark line of hair that disappeared under his studded belt. ¡°You won¡¯t even remember me when you¡¯re a big star.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡± His face had gone serious. I knew when he really meant it. His usually light colored blue-as-a-summer-sky eyes darkened when he was angry, or serious¡ªor lusting after me. ¡°Besides, I won¡¯t need to remember you.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Damn right. Because you¡¯ll be mine.¡±


    ¡°Too late.¡± I leaned in, my hair falling around us, a golden curtain, and touched my lips softly to his. ¡°Already am.¡±


    ¡°Are you ready to pass out Tootsie Rolls to trick-or-treaters?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Well, if we can¡¯t have sex, I guess that¡¯s the next best thing.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s the next best thing, we need to work on your social life.¡±


    ¡°I brought my chemistry homework. How¡¯s that for fun?¡±


    ¡°Good. Can you do mine?¡± He grinned. ¡°I¡¯ve got to practice. It¡¯s only a couple months until the semifinals.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I hopped off him, picking up his guitar. Of course they had made it to the semi-finals. Dale had been nervous, but I knew all along. No one could beat them.


    ¡°Are you nervous?¡± I sat on the bed with the guitar in my lap. I had no idea how to play. The only instrument I¡¯d ever come to was playing was a recorder in kindergarten, and my music teacher ended up asking me to just pretend. That¡¯s how bad I was. But I liked to play around with it.


    ¡°Should I be?¡±


    Dale sat up too, sliding his long, slender legs around me from behind, his bare chest against my back. Just the feel of him, his muscular frame, his arms wrapping around me from behind, was enough to make me want him. Not that wanting him was anything new. I wanted him all the time, whether I was with him or I wasn¡¯t. But thankfully, we were together a lot. As much as we could be, given that my stepfather didn¡¯t approve of me having a ¡°boyfriend¡± and we had to sneak around and lie in order to see each other.


    I simply told my parents I¡¯d started working at the theater again taking tickets as an excuse to be gone most nights of the week. The stepbeast didn¡¯t approve of me having a job either¡ªbecause that meant I had my own money¡ªbut that was more acceptable than a boyfriend.


    ¡°Like this.¡± Dale¡¯s hands cupped mine, moving my fingers on the strings, pressing them down with my left hand, and strumming with my right. The guitar suddenly made a beautiful sound, nothing like I had ever heard when it was in my possession.


    I glanced over my shoulder at him, incredulous.


    ¡°See?¡± Dale manipulated my fingers some more, strumming, the two of us suddenly one, making sweet music together. ¡°You can do it.¡±


    ¡°Not without you.¡± God, that was the truth. ¡°I¡¯m certainly not going to be winning any contests. But you are.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± He was playing now. I let go of the guitar and he continued to play with the guitar in my lap. He couldn¡¯t even see but his hands just knew where to go, how to stroke and slide his fingers over the strings to make the instrument sing just the way he wanted it too.


    His voice in my ear, singing an old Bob Dylan tune, something with a little country twang, surprised me. His voice was rough, a little like Dylan, but sweeter. Rough and sweet. That was Dale. For some reason, it made me think of Tyler Vincent, which was unusual, because even knowing the concert was coming up in another month, I hadn¡¯t thought about Tyler Vincent much at all in the past few months. He was still papered all over my walls, I still listened to his music when I drew or painted, but it was Dale who filled my thoughts.


    What was Tyler Vincent doing right now? I imagined October in Maine. Halloween was probably snowy. Was he taking his youngest son, Ian, out to trick-or-treat? I imagined Tyler Vincent as a very good father. A little like Dale¡¯s father, John. I could tell how much John loved his son, in spite of his misgivings about Dale¡¯s ambition to be a rock star. What parent wouldn¡¯t want to give their child an education, a fallback position? Only one in a million people were good-looking enough, smart enough, lucky enough, and talented enough to ever make it in the music business.


    I just happened to know that Dale was one of those. One in a million.


    ¡°That¡¯s beautiful.¡± I leaned back against him, feeling the music thrumming through my belly as he played the guitar sitting in my lap, his voice filling my ear. He was playing and singing just for me, a one man concert. I was the luckiest girl who had ever lived, and I knew it. I would have known it even if I hadn¡¯t seen hordes of fans rushing the stage, trying to touch Dale, to be a part of him, to feel his energy, just for one brief moment.


    When the song ended, Dale kissed my cheek and put the guitar down again, leaning it against the night stand before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me back onto the bed. I rolled with him, letting him curl himself around me from behind so we were spooning together in the middle of his bed, not kissing, not doing anything but laying there, breathing together as if we were one entity.


    ¡°Did you know Tyler Vincent didn¡¯t even start playing guitar until he was in college?¡± I asked softly. It slipped. I had been thinking of him and it just... slipped. I tried not to mention him when I was with Dale. He usually got a hard look on his face, like stone, but he wouldn¡¯t say anything about it. He would just look at me¡ªand make me feel guilty I¡¯d mentioned him at all.


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Dale murmured in response. ¡°I think I read that somewhere.¡±


    Dale had been playing guitar since he was three years old. John had told me that. He could also play piano, bass, and drums. He really was a one-man band, or he could be. He also wrote his own songs, music and lyrics.


    ¡°You¡¯re better than he is.¡± I snuggled up closer, sighing as I felt his pelvis pressed against my behind. God, he always made me think about wanting him, no matter what we were doing or what we were talking about.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was a competition.¡± He kissed my hair, the top of my head, taking a long, slow deep breath, his hand sliding under my T-shirt to rest against the soft skin of my belly. ¡°So how many fan letters have you written to Tyler Vincent?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I felt defensive, a little suspicious. Cautious. Dale sounded too amiable, even interested. That was unusual. ¡°A few.¡±


    Of course, that was a lie. When I was fourteen, I mailed him a letter every single week. No joke. That was until my mother cut me off from stamps. When I had to buy my own, the letters dwindled down to once a month. Eventually, I stopped sending them. But I never stopped writing them. I had notebooks full of letters to Tyler Vincent. Really, they were more like diary or journal entries. I probably never would have ever shared them with Tyler Vincent, unless he and I became friends¡­ or something more.

 Page 18

    Being in Dale¡¯s arms and thinking about Tyler Vincent and my fantasies about living in Maine and becoming¡­ more¡­ It was just too strange. But I couldn¡¯t share my journals with Dale either. There was far too much truth in them, things I knew he couldn¡¯t accept, things I couldn¡¯t tell anyone. Even Aimee. I started every entry with Dear Tyler, but it might as well have been Dear Diary or Dear Rockstar for that matter. It was just me getting my thoughts on paper, getting them out.


    ¡°Did he ever write back?¡±Advertisement


    ¡°No. I got an autographed picture once. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s even really signed by him. But that was it.¡± I really didn¡¯t like talking about this with Dale. I liked keeping Tyler Vincent and Dale Diamond as far away from each other as I possibly could, both in my mind and in the real world. But Dale seemed determined to talk about it tonight for some reason. ¡°Can we change the subject?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind me. It¡¯s just the irony. I fall for a girl whose heart already belongs to some guy who¡¯s twice her age who she¡¯s never even met. You have to admit, it¡¯s probably the most bizarre threesome in history.¡±


    ¡°You would have been better off with Aimee.¡± The thought caused a sharp stab of pain in my middle, and if Dale had known, he would have been pleased.


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s not true. She¡¯s not you. I don¡¯t want anybody else.¡±


    ¡°Why do you want to talk about this?¡±


    ¡°I guess I want to know,¡± he said softly. ¡°Tell me why he¡¯s so important to you. Make me understand it.¡±


    Dale was quiet, waiting for me, and I groped for words, the right words, that would put my feelings for Tyler Vincent outside myself. There weren¡¯t any, I found. They hadn¡¯t been invented yet. I tried anyway.


    ¡°Tyler Vincent puts himself into the stuff he does,¡± I said, closing my eyes, trying to put it into words. ¡°And I can feel him. Sure, I like his music, and that¡¯s how it started. He carried me away, and I enjoy that... but it¡¯s more. It¡¯s his voice I hear in his lyrics, his music, even in his movies¡­ and it appeals to a deep part of me... the creative, feeling part of me.¡±


    I chewed thoughtfully on my lip.


    ¡°I can understand that,¡± Dale murmured, encouraging me to go on.


    It was the next part that was going to be hard to swallow. Even as I thought about it, I was discovering things about my feelings I¡¯d hidden from myself.


    ¡°He¡¯s somehow become... everything to me. I¡¯m sure some shrink would say it ties into my dad. I hate my stepfather, and there¡¯s Tyler Vincent, someone I admire and respect, everything my stepfather isn¡¯t and never will be. He¡¯s such a great person, with a great mind, and a wife and three kids he loves more than life itself...¡±


    ¡°How can you know that?¡± Dale interrupted.


    ¡°I know,¡± I assured him. ¡°I just know. And the worse my life got, the worse my stepfather got, the more I needed...¡±


    I shrugged, my words trailing off. There wasn¡¯t any more I could say.


    ¡°You know... what if he¡¯s not as great as you¡¯ve made him out to be in your head?¡± Dale asked. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s like you¡¯ve created him in your mind. You took a puzzle and you filled in the missing pieces with your imagination, and maybe... maybe they¡¯re the wrong pieces. You see what I mean?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    The door opened and John poked his head in.¡± I¡¯m off to the staff party. You two ready for trick-or-treaters?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I stood up, holding my hand out for Dale, and he took it, climbing off the bed and following me into the living room. John had set up a bowl of Tootsie Rolls for the trick-or-treaters.


    ¡°If you run out of candy, I left two rolls of pennies on the kitchen table.¡± John shrugged on a jacket, tipping his Crocodile Dundee hat in my direction. ¡°G¡¯Day, lil Sheila.¡±


    I laughed. ¡°Call us if you have too much to drink. We¡¯ll come get you.¡±


    ¡°Not me.¡± John shook his head, opening the door, frightening two trick-or-treaters who were just about to knock.


    I put two Tootsie Rolls into a Smurf¡¯s pillow case, and two more into the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle¡¯s bag, closing the door as John made his way down the stairs.


    ¡°Smurfs?¡± Dale shook his head. ¡°Whatever happened to Bugs Bunny? Daffy Duck?¡±


    ¡°Normal cartoons!¡± I agreed. ¡°I turned on the TV a couple Saturdays ago, and I swear, I didn¡¯t recognize one cartoon. I felt so old.¡±


    ¡°I know what you mean.¡± He sat on the sofa with the Tupperware bowl full of candy. ¡°Saturdays were the best. When I was little my mom would...¡±


    He stopped, stirring around the bowl and picking out a Tootsie Roll. I waited for him to continue but he didn¡¯t. He never talked about his family, especially his mom. I knew his parents were divorced, but now I wondered if maybe she was dead?


    I sat down on the couch beside him, reaching in and plucking out a Tootsie Roll, trying to make the question sound casual. ¡°Dale... where¡¯s your mom?¡±


    I felt him stiffen beside me. He shoved the candy into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, a good excuse for his hesitation.


    ¡°In Maine,¡± he said finally. ¡°They split up. End of story.¡±


    ¡°It must have been hard,¡± I said. I¡¯d never had to go through that. My father died in a car accident before I ever knew him, and my mother had married the stepbeast by the time I entered second grade.


    He set the candy bowl between us, his laugh hard, bitter. ¡°Not really. I hate my mother.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I watched him folding his Tootsie Roll wrapper into some shape on his thigh.


    ¡°Because... because she cheated on my father. Because she did it for years and never told him. Because¡ª¡± He stopped and looked at me. ¡°Because the jerk she was cheating with is still with his wife and kids and they have no idea it ever happened.¡±


    ¡°God,¡± I whispered. ¡°How did you find out?¡±


    ¡°You really want to know?¡±


    I nodded. He¡¯d finished folding his wrapper into a miniature paper airplane and now he threw it with a vengeance. It sailed over the coffee table. ¡°I walked in on them. This guy¡ªhe was my dad¡¯s best friend¡ªhe invited us to go swimming in his pool. My dad had work to do¡ªterm papers to grade, I think¡ªso just Mom and I went.¡± He unwrapped another Tootsie Roll and he spoke his next words around it.


    ¡°So we were playing around, and I got stung by a bee. Hurt like hell but I pulled the stinger out and went to get my mom.¡± He began to fold another wrapper.


    ¡°Then what?¡± I prodded.


    Dale tossed his second little airplane. It nose-dived into the carpet.


    ¡°Well, I couldn¡¯t find her for a while. I stumbled around¡ªthe house was huge¡ªand happened to open a door I thought was a bathroom. Turned out it was a bedroom.¡±


    I gasped. ¡°You found them... actually... you know...?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah. There was no doubt about what they were doing.¡±


    ¡°Oh my God.¡± I threw my own little wrapper airplane. It hit the edge of the coffee table. ¡°What did you do?¡±


    ¡°They were too busy to even notice I was there. I had to yell ¡®Mom!¡¯ three times and even then she just told me to get hell out. So I waited for her outside the door.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°They finished what they were doing.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t believe it. ¡°Are you¡­ sure?¡±


    He glanced sideways at me and I shrank back.


    ¡°Very sure.¡± His eyes were dark with anger. ¡°So then, my mother came out in her dress and high heels and walked past me like I wasn¡¯t even there.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± I exclaimed. ¡°Did you tell your dad?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He shook his head, lips pursed. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what to do. I talked to her and she told me to shut my mouth. Said it was none of my business what she did and I was old enough to understand.¡± He laughed bitterly. ¡°Old enough to understand¡­¡±


    He stopped talking as more kids came to the door. I opened it, handing them Tootsie Rolls silently. Dale continued eating them and making tiny airplanes.


    I sat back on the sofa .¡°So when did your dad find out?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t.¡±


    I gaped at him.


    ¡°She left him. She got the idea in her head this jerk was going to ditch his wife for her and she left us. Told my father some story about how she was unhappy. She probably was. Anyway, she never told him.¡±


    ¡°He still doesn¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°No and please don¡¯t say anything. It would kill him.¡±


    ¡°How many people have you told?¡± I asked him softly. He threw his airplane and it joined mine, littering the carpet.


    ¡°Counting you?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°One.¡±


    I moved the bowl from between us and slid over until my hip touched his. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders.


    ¡°You should have to get a license to have a kid,¡± Dale said bitterly. ¡°Some people were never meant to have any.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad they had you,¡± I said softly. ¡°I¡¯d be lost without you.¡±


    He turned to me, his heart in his eyes. ¡°I love you, Sara.¡±


    I closed mine, feeling tears behind them. It was the first time he¡¯d said it. The first time either of us had spoken anything like it out loud.


    He tilted my chin up and I knew he was waiting for an answer, but I couldn¡¯t. It filled every fiber of my being, my love for him. It was so big it eclipsed everything, even the one thing in my life I counted as the most important. I wanted to tell him, but the words seemed too small to really express how I felt.


    Instead, I touched my lips to his. His mouth was soft and he tasted sweet¡ªlike Tootsie Rolls. He ran a hand down my hair to the small of my back, pressing me as close as he could. His mouth slanted across mine with more feeling than I¡¯d ever experienced, and I let him kiss me, hard and long, my body thrumming and alive and full of him, oblivious to everything else.


    ¡°Oh, Sara.¡± His lips trembled against my neck. ¡°Don¡¯t do this to me. I can¡¯t stand it. I can¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t¡­¡±


    He kissed me again before I could ask or even catch my breath, but as suddenly as it had started, it ended and he disentangled himself from me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to practice.¡±


    He went to his room, shutting the door behind him, leaving me alone with a bowl full of Tootsie Rolls, wondering what in the hell had just happened.


    CHAPTER THIRTEEN


    ¡°Can¡¯t sleep?¡± Aimee whispered in the dark. She was in her twin bed and I was on the floor in a sleeping bag, our usual arrangement when I slept over.


    ¡°No.¡± I was watching shadows on the ceiling, tree branches moving in the moonlight.


    It was the night before a Tyler Vincent concert. Of course I couldn¡¯t sleep. It was like the night before Christmas, only better, especially since Dale had procured front row seats.


    But I wasn¡¯t thinking about Tyler Vincent.


    ¡°Want me to tell you a story?¡±

 Page 19

    I smiled at Aimee¡¯s suggestion, also a time-honored tradition, although maybe we were a getting a little too old for it. It was like watching cartoons on Saturday morning¡ªyou could see yourself doing it and knew it was silly and immature, but there was something familiar and undeniably comforting about it anyway.


    Aimee was a writer. She¡¯d been the editor of our high school paper until part way through our senior year, when she¡¯d ended up in treatment for her anorexia. Her imagination knew no bounds, and she loved to tell stories. It had started one night during a sleepover like this. We¡¯d stayed up watching MTV until two in the morning, waiting for Tyler Vincent videos, drinking Tab and eating Funyuns. Neither of us could sleep, too excited for the concert the next day.Advertisement


    That¡¯s when Aimee had first asked, ¡°Want me to tell you a story?¡±


    And she had, a story about meeting Tyler Vincent, but not just meeting him. We rescued him from some dangerous situation, for which he was immensely grateful, and of course rewarded us immediately with lifetime access to all his shows. As we grew older, the stories got better¡ªfar more involved, sometimes bordering on dirty, depending on her mood and our level of tiredness, which inevitably broke down our inhibitions¡ªbut whatever happened, Aimee was always nice enough to let me have Tyler in the end for a happy ever after.


    ¡°No, not tonight.¡± I rolled over in my sleeping bag toward her bed with a sigh.


    ¡°Whatcha thinking about?¡±


    Things I shouldn¡¯t have been thinking about.


    Tomorrow was the Tyler Vincent concert and we had front row seats and the only thing I could think about was Dale.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Liar.¡± I heard her smile. ¡°Did I tell you Matt asked me to his brother¡¯s wedding?¡±


    Only a few hundred times.


    ¡°I know. I helped you pick out the dress remember?¡±


    We¡¯d spent less and less time together this year, often only seeing each other at the lunch table and talking on the phone a few times a week. Aimee was busy with her first real boyfriend¡ªever¡ªand I was busy with Dale. And Tyler.


    ¡°Can you believe we¡¯re old enough to get married?¡±


    I froze in the dark. ¡°Did Matt¡­ propose?¡±


    It was quiet and then she burst out laughing. ¡°No! Oh my God, no. Can you imagine?¡±


    I had been, for a moment. Matt was older than us¡ªtwenty-two, almost twenty-three. His brother, the one getting married, was twenty-six. It was possible. And the way they¡¯d been together, constantly together it seemed, it wouldn¡¯t really surprise me.


    ¡°Although¡­¡± Her voice lowered. ¡°We did get¡­ physical.¡±


    My jaw dropped and I think my heart stopped too. I sat bolt upright on her floor. I could only see her outline in the darkness.


    ¡°Are you kidding me? You and Matt? When? Where? How?¡±


    She laughed at my reaction. ¡°You didn¡¯t ask me why.¡±


    ¡°Well that one¡¯s obvious.¡± I grinned.


    ¡°Here at my house. In my bed. Just after Thanksgiving, when my mom was still out of town.¡±


    I¡¯d wanted to spend Thanksgiving with John and Dale, but we¡¯d spent it with my stepfather¡¯s family in upstate New York, his pothead mother and her crackhead husband and a myriad of siblings I could still never get straight because we only saw them on holidays, but my mother insisted I come anyway. ¡°It¡¯s the only family we have,¡± is what she always said, but as far as I was concerned, having no family would be better than having a family like his.


    At least it sounded like Aimee had a far better holiday than I had!


    I settled myself back in the sleeping back, stunned. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And¡­¡± she hesitated and I waited, breath held. ¡°It was sweet. He was very sweet and gentle. Kept asking me if I was okay. It hurt at first. He¡¯s not¡­ small.¡±


    I flushed in the darkness. ¡°Well the first time does hurt.¡±


    Mine did, for sure. David hadn¡¯t exactly been huge but it had hurt anyway. And he wasn¡¯t exactly gentle. There hadn¡¯t been much time for that, given the rushed circumstances.


    ¡°But the next time¡­ it was¡­ wow.¡±


    ¡°The next time?¡± I grinned. ¡°When was that?¡±


    ¡°About twenty minutes after the first time.¡±


    We both cracked up.


    ¡°So what about you and Dale?¡± Aimee was up on her elbow. ¡°What¡¯s it like? You haven¡¯t told me anything!¡±


    There was a good reason for that. There wasn¡¯t anything to tell.


    I hesitated, not wanting to admit the truth. But I wasn¡¯t about to make anything up either.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t¡­ yet.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Now it was her turn to sound shocked. ¡°You¡¯re kidding me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I sighed, rolling onto my stomach and pressing my cheek to the pillow to try and cool it. I¡¯d been momentarily distracted by Aimee¡¯s news, but now I was thinking about Dale again and that inevitably made me hot. Hotter than hot. My face felt like it was burning up, and that was nothing compared to the rest of me.


    ¡°But¡­ why not? It¡¯s not like you¡¯re still¡­¡± Aimee paused, and I filled in the blank in my head. No, I wasn¡¯t a virgin. There was no real reason to wait. ¡°Unless¡­ oh my God! Is Dale¡­ a virgin?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I laughed. ¡°Hardly.¡±


    We¡¯d had that discussion, he and I. I told him about David, and the one guy who had come after him, Brian, who hadn¡¯t lasted long¡ªa month or so¡ªand we¡¯d only had sex once. I didn¡¯t worry about pregnancy anymore. I didn¡¯t have to. I was on the pill now, thanks to Aimee¡¯s mom. Linda Wells was a single mother and had insisted, when she took Aimee, who was having so much trouble regulating her periods¡ªof course that had to do more with her fluctuating weight than anything hormonal¡ªthat I come too.


    She¡¯d pretended to be my mother and had signed all the paperwork and I¡¯d gone and filled the prescription every month since. I was supposed to have some sort of regular exam to get more, but I never had. I didn¡¯t know if it was some sort of mistake, but I didn¡¯t question it. I filled the prescription, hid the pills in my room, and took them faithfully every day.


    Of course, Dale had told me about the girls he¡¯d been with¡ªfewer than I¡¯d expected, honestly, but far more than me. I had to ask him every detail about them, what they were like, how long they had dated, had they done it? How many times? I told him it wasn¡¯t fair, he only had two guys to agonize over, but I had a whole harem to think about¡ªeight girls in total¡ªwhen it came to him. Of course, that¡¯s when he reminded me of Tyler Vincent and I shut my mouth.


    ¡°So then¡­ why?¡± Aimee asked again, sounding genuinely curious.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I replied honestly. I had my ideas, but I didn¡¯t know, not for sure. ¡°I think he¡¯s afraid of things going too fast. He wants it to be different than it¡¯s been¡­ for him and for me¡­ in the past. I think¡­¡±


    I smiled into my pillow, remembering the way he¡¯d looked at me when he¡¯d told me he was renting a limo to take us to the concert and he had a ¡°surprise¡± for me afterward.


    ¡°I think he¡¯s a closet romantic. I think he wants it to be¡­ perfect.¡±


    Aimee snorted. ¡°You could be waiting forever.¡±


    ¡°Feels like it sometimes.¡±


    But I had a feeling my wait was almost over.


    ¡°Left me standin¡¯ on the porch too many times


    Kept the boys in the band waitin¡¯ at the bar


    His voice inside yellin¡¯ out my crimes


    Ain¡¯t comin¡¯ to the door no more I¡¯ll be waitin¡¯ in my car


    Are you daddy¡¯s girl or are you gonna be mine?


    Lemme know now girl cuz I just ain¡¯t got the time¡­¡±


    The screams were deafening. Bodies pressed all around us, and I had to hold onto Dale to keep from losing him. Aimee, next to me, screamed along with the rest of us girls in the first few rows who had squeezed up here.


    ¡°Are you daddy¡¯s girl or you gonna be mine...?¡± Tyler Vincent sang right above us now. When I reached out and touched his boot, he winked at me. I thought I was going to keel over right there. Aimee grabbed my arm and squealed her approval. Matt, behind her, had his arms about her waist.


    ¡°Are you having a good time?¡± Dale practically had to yell to be heard.


    I didn¡¯t do anything but beam back at him, no words for how grateful I was to have the experience of a Tyler Vincent concert, front row center. I looked at him, curious about the expression on his face. This was what he wanted to be¡ªthis was what he wanted to do. This was what he was clearly born to do. I could see it in the longing in his eyes.


    Tyler Vincent was talking to the audience now, and things had quieted down so we could hear him.


    ¡°This is a little song I wrote about what it¡¯s like to be a rock star.¡± He took a long swig of water. ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s like Living Out Loud and you guys make it all worth it, I got to tell ya.¡± The roar of the crowd really was deafening then. ¡°There are good things about being me.¡±


    ¡°I want to have your baby!¡± a girl from behind us screamed clearly.


    ¡°Like that.¡± Tyler laughed and the band started to play behind him.


    There was more laughter, more screaming.


    ¡°But sometimes¡­well, be careful what you wish for¡­¡±


    I could have sworn he was looking right at Dale.


    ¡°Last time we met you said be careful what I ask for


    Before you left you whispered that the door¡¯s always open


    Barely heard you with my handlers shovin¡¯ groupies out the back door


    If I¡¯d known what I was tradin¡¯ for the life of a rock star


    Wanted more than these work jeans ripped and faded


    Wanted more than four am gigs and six am time clocks


    Now my guitar¡¯s shiny new but I¡¯m old and jaded


    And I can¡¯t get enough of what I never really wanted¡­¡±


    I watched Dale, thinking. About being a star. About being a fan. About what each of those meant. His look was far away. I tried to imagine it¡ªhim being up there on stage, with girls screaming they wanted to have his children¡ªgirls he didn¡¯t even know.


    ¡°I got what I wanted


    Now that I¡¯m livin¡¯ out loud


    I can¡¯t hear the music


    Above the noise of the crowd¡­¡±


    I leaned my forehead against Dale¡¯s shoulder. What would it be like, being the girlfriend of a rock star? Having him gone all of the time, or traveling with him, dealing with the jet lag, the alcohol, the drugs? The extreme highs, the extreme lows¡­ Could I handle that? Could I handle girls like me and Aimee screaming at Dale and pasting posters of him on their walls?


    Of course, maybe I¡¯d never have to worry¡ªnot too many people made it big. But Dale was different. He had the talent¡­ and the determination. All he needed was one little break and he just might be a rock star. With thousands of adoring fans. Fans like me. Fans who just wanted to ¡°be his friend¡­¡± but who really wanted to be a part of his life.

 Page 20

    We swayed with the crowd¡ªit was impossible not to. Aimee leaned back in Matt¡¯s arms, smiling. Dale put his arm around me. I nudged him and he looked at me quizzically. I just shrugged and smiled.


    ¡°You and your obsessions,¡± he said close to my ear.Advertisement


    ¡°You¡¯re just as bad,¡± I told him, realizing it for the first time myself. ¡°You want to be the object of obsessions.¡±


    He looked at me for a long moment and I could tell he was thinking.


    Then he grinned and said, ¡°You¡¯re right. We make quite a pair, don¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Are you ready for your surprise?¡±


    The limo dropped Aimee and Matt off at Aimee¡¯s house, and while I expected it to head west, toward the apartments, instead it headed north. The driver seemed to know exactly where he was going.


    ¡°Is it Tyler Vincent wrapped up in a big bow?¡± I teased. ¡°Because I don¡¯t think you could top tonight otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Ouch.¡± Dale put his hand over his heart, pretending to be mortally wounded. ¡°I rent a room at the Waldorf Astoria so we can spend the night together, and you want Tyler Vincent instead?¡±


    ¡°Oh Dale.¡± I immediately regretted my words. Besides, even though I was on a high from the concert, my mind hadn¡¯t exactly been on Tyler Vincent. It had been on Dale. ¡°Oh my God. You¡¯re kidding me?¡±


    He grinned, shaking his head and holding up his first two fingers. ¡°Boy Scouts honor.¡±


    ¡°You were never a Boy Scout.¡± I laughed, sliding across the seat and wrapping my arms around his neck.


    ¡°I was too!¡± he protested. ¡°I even got my merit badge!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re really going to New York?¡± I whispered, looking out the tinted windows at the world going by. I¡¯d only ever been into New York City itself once before, on a school field trip. Although I had a feeling I wouldn¡¯t be doing much sightseeing on this one. Not that I cared.


    He nodded, looking at his watch. ¡°Should be there in about forty minutes.¡±


    ¡°Mmm then maybe we should start now,¡± I murmured, sliding my hand up under his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of his belly. ¡°That¡¯s a long time, and there¡¯s a lot of room back here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not objecting.¡± He slipped further down on the white leather seat, his hips at the edge, pulling me into his lap.


    I straddled him, leaning down to kiss him, the soft, familiar press of his lips meeting mine, his hands moving up the soft skin of my bare thighs. My skirt was short, far shorter than I was used to or allowed to wear, but I¡¯d changed at Aimee¡¯s, both of us doing our best to draw all of the masculine attention, and of course, one male in particular¡ªTyler Vincent himself.


    It had been quite successful, at least on the first count. Dale had given me his jacket, insisting I tie it around my waist during the concert, and I¡¯d humored him, but he didn¡¯t seem to mind the shortness of my skirt now we were alone. His hands stroked my thighs as we kissed, a slow rhythm, up and down, driving me crazy. His tongue made lazy circles with mine, teasing, playing with me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I can do this for another half an hour,¡± I whispered against his neck, feeling his hips grinding into mine. I felt how hard he was for me.


    ¡°I could do this for days,¡± he whispered back, hands on my hips, moving me in circles against the denim crotch of his jeans.


    I moaned, shaking my head, but he captured my mouth again, kissing me as he rolled me onto the seat, on my back, his thighs spreading mine, forcing them to open around him. His lips grazed my throat, tongue bathing my collarbone, tracing the line of it to the hollow of my throat, making delightful circles there.


    He was so hard, God, so damned hard. I wanted him so much I couldn¡¯t stand it. I reached for him, feeling the hot denim rub of him against the crotch of my panties, but he grabbed my wrists like he always did, pinning my arms above my head and kissing me dizzy.


    ¡°Please,¡± I gasped, cupping his face in my hands and sucking on his lower lip.


    Dale shook his head, not giving me what I wanted, but giving me a little more, his tongue teasing the seam of my lips open, flicking the slide of my mouth again and again until I was writhing beneath him, another matching set of lips between my legs swollen and wet for him, aching for more. Then he slipped his tongue into my mouth, forcing my lips to open to him, making his tongue hard and thrusting it in and out, slowly and first, then faster.


    I moaned, sucking gently on his tongue, my hips matching his driving rhythm, grinding and rolling under him. I lost all sense of time or even location. I was just pure sensation, feeling everything, the heat of his body, the way the leather of the seat stuck to my skin, the pull of my hair trapped under my back as we rocked, our mouths locked tightly together.


    I wanted him, but I knew what he meant. I could have kissed him like this forever and done nothing else at all except this. We kissed and kissed, like it was our first time making out and we were too afraid to go any further, afraid not only of maybe our parents walking in or being caught doing something naughty, but afraid of what came next and how it would change things. Everything.


    ¡°We¡¯re here, Sara,¡± Dale whispered as the limo pulled up to the Waldorf Astoria. I let him lead me. I couldn¡¯t see straight. My mouth was swollen from his kisses, but my sex was even more so. I was so wet it was embarrassing. If I¡¯d been a guy, I probably would have knocked someone over with my erection. Thankfully I didn¡¯t have to deal with that, but Dale was smart, keeping me in front of him, leaning up against me from behind as we checked in so I could feel how much he wanted me, but no one else could see it.


    ¡°No bags, sir?¡± the desk clerk asked as Dale signed for the room.


    ¡°No.¡± Dale nuzzled my ear, whispering. ¡°We¡¯re not going to need clothes.¡±


    I barely registered the ornate lobby, the chandelier hanging from the ceiling high above us. I knew he¡¯d picked this place so I would remember, so it would be special, but I couldn¡¯t focus on or think about anything else but him. I couldn¡¯t wait to get to our room, not so I could see the amazing view from the forty-seventh floor, but because I couldn¡¯t wait for him to strip me down and take me and make me his. Finally.


    Finally.


    Dale slipped the key cards into his back pocket as we walked to the elevator.


    ¡°How did you pay for this?¡± I whispered as we got in. He couldn¡¯t afford to get a set of wheels or a new amp, but he could afford a limo and this hotel room?


    Dale smiled, putting a finger to his lips. ¡°Your fairy godfather.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    He kissed me quiet, pinning me to the back of the elevator with his hips, his studded belt leaving red patterned marks on my thighs because my legs were wrapped around him so tightly. I was sure the security cameras were filming us but I didn¡¯t care.


    We kissed for forty-seven full floors, both of us groaning when the bell for the elevator dinged and the doors whooshed open.


    He grinned. ¡°Race you.¡±


    He got a head start, but I made it to the door first, panting and leaning against the door frame, waiting for him to catch up with the key card. He was just seconds behind me, sliding the keycard into the slot, his eyes dark with lust at the metaphor as he slipped it back out and opened up the room.


    It was a suite with a living room area, the bedroom through that. Dale shut the door behind me and I saw strawberries dipped in chocolate sitting on the table, along with a dozen roses, a card tucked into their stems.


    ¡°You thought of everything.¡± I thought I wouldn¡¯t be able to focus on the room or anything but Dale, but the cool air over my skin, the strawberries and flowers, the big, mahogany canopied bed, and oh my God, the view! Looking north, down on Park Avenue, toward Central Park, you could see everything, including the Empire State Building, all lit up.


    ¡°Look at this!¡± I cried, standing at the window, the city all neon below us.


    ¡°I can¡¯t think about anything but you.¡± He slid his arms around me from behind and I felt him, still hard, reminding me how wet I was for him. ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to think about anything else for months. Everything I do, I¡¯m thinking about you.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I sighed, wiggling back against him, hearing him groan.


    ¡°Sara, I have to warn you,¡± he murmured, his teeth raking my earlobe. ¡°I¡¯m going to come like a teenager, the minute I slide inside of you for the first time.¡±


    I moaned, reaching back for him, finding the edge of his belt, and pulling on it, grinding his hips harder against me.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I panted. ¡°Oh God, I just want you inside of me. Please. Please.¡±


    He turned me around, his mouth slanting across mine, lips parting as we kissed, tongue making long, deep thrusts as he urged me toward the bed. And oh, what a bed. If I¡¯d thought Dale¡¯s bed was big, this was like a cloud floating in an infinite sky. I leaned back, letting him kiss me down onto the mattress, then got up on my elbows so I could watch him peel off his t-shirt. He was so beautiful, his shoulders broad, belly flat and ridged, a dark line of hair running down from his navel and disappearing below that flashy, studded belt.


    He reached for his belt, his gaze never leaving me, stretched out on the bed, still fully clothed but wanting him, waiting for him, and I couldn¡¯t resist. I sat up, squeezing him between my thighs and grabbing onto his belt, quickly unbuckling it. He watched me, a half-smile on his face, as I unzipped his jeans, pushing them down his hips and letting him spring free.


    But then I took him in my hand, stroking him gently, and his mouth fell open in a soft ¡°o¡± of pleasure, his eyes closing as I pumped him in my hand, an easy rhythm, not too fast, not too slow, watching his face the whole time. His cock was just as beautiful as the rest of him, straight up hard, circumcised, the tip wet with pre-cum.


    Dale gasped when I leaned forward and licked it off. I couldn¡¯t help it. I had to taste him. I wanted all of him. He moaned when I slid to my knees off the edge of the bed and slipped the head into my mouth, rolling my tongue around the tip, teasing him, and his hips rocked forward to meet me, slipping his cock further down my throat.


    ¡°Sara,¡± he cried, grabbing a fist full of my hair and pulling back, the length of him sliding out of my mouth with a thick ¡°popping¡± sound. ¡°Oh God, wait. Nnn. That¡¯s too good.¡±


    ¡°No such thing,¡± I whispered, nuzzling his thighs, working his jeans further down his legs until he could step out of them, leaving him completely nude.


    ¡°Your turn,¡± he insisted, pulling me up to standing in front of him.


    There wasn¡¯t much to take off, but he took his time, peeling off my shirt first, kissing my shoulders and the tops of my breasts in my bra before unhooking it in front and freeing them. The look on his face was almost pained the first time he saw my breasts, my nipples pink and hard as pebbles under his thumbs. Then he was licking them, making me moan and arch against him, aching for more.


    My skirt had an elastic waist and he slid that down my hips, leaving me only in panties. I¡¯d already lost my heels and my purse somewhere near the front door of our suite. He grabbed my hips, pushing me up onto the bed and sliding me back, back on the endless mattress so he could stretch out between my thighs, kissing his way leisurely up them, first one, then the other, skipping over my sex, so wet the white crotch of my panties showed it entirely.

 Page 21

    ¡°Lift,¡± he instructed, and I did, letting him slide my panties down over my hips, hearing his intake of breath when he saw me, finally, fully nude in front of him.


    And still, he took his time, tracing the line of my pubic hair, a curly, dark blond triangle, first across the top, then down the crease of my thighs, making me squirm.Advertisement


    ¡°Dale,¡± I cried, feeling his nose brush through the seam of my sex. ¡°Oh God, please!¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡± He couldn¡¯t say anything else, because his mouth was fastened over my sex, all that expert tongue kissing suddenly becoming more than just a tease as he began to kiss my clit. Just like he had with my mouth, he started slow, licking and sucking gently, flicking his tongue, making me gasp and rock my hips up to meet him.


    ¡°Oh God!¡± I couldn¡¯t stop it. I didn¡¯t even want to. His tongue was doing things to me I couldn¡¯t believe, my body quivering, thighs spread so wide my muscles were stretched taut. Dale groaned against me, his tongue mashed flat, back and forth, hands cupping my behind, lifting me to him so he could drink me in as my climax washed over me like a tidal wave. And still he didn¡¯t stop, kissing my sex again and again, just like he had my mouth, like he never wanted it to end, and neither did I.


    ¡°Dale!¡± I gasped, my hand moving in his hair, my eyes half-lidded as I watched him devour me. ¡°Oh again! Again!¡±


    My second orgasm followed my first so quickly it left me almost sobbing, shuddering like I¡¯d just swallowed a live wire as he climbed up between my legs, not giving me even a moment to catch my breath before he was sliding himself up and down the sensitive flesh of my sex.


    ¡°Oh fuck.¡± He stopped, poised at the entrance, looking down at me. ¡°God. Sara. I could come right now, just looking at you.¡±


    I slipped a hand behind his head, bringing his mouth down to mine. I could taste myself and I sucked on his tongue, hearing him growl low in his throat as he thrust deep inside of me for the first time. We both gasped, eyes locked. I felt him, thick and throbbing, and I couldn¡¯t help it¡ªI squeezed him with my muscles, wanting more, more.


    Dale moaned, shaking his head, biting his lip, struggling to stay in control.


    ¡°You want to come?¡± I whispered, touching my finger to his lips, the same lips I¡¯d kissed a hundred times, a thousand, until my mouth was swollen and red and chaffed from his.


    ¡°No. Yes.¡± He moaned, eyes closing as I squeezed him again, gently, little flutters. ¡°Oh my God. Fuck! Sara!¡¯


    ¡°Mmmm so good,¡± I murmured, sliding my arms around his neck, wanting to feel him on me, all of him. ¡°Come here.¡±


    He let himself down onto me with a soft, relenting moan, let me wrap him up in my limbs and rock him, his cock like molten steel, impaling me over and over, his breath hot steam against my throat.


    ¡°Fuck me,¡± I whispered, giving him permission, taking him into my flesh, a soft invitation to madness. ¡°Oh yes, like that. Do it harder. I want all of you.¡±


    He grabbed my shoulders, giving himself more leverage as he spread my thighs wider with his, rutting into me now, lost, completely out of control, and I loved it, hanging onto him for dear life, nails digging into the hard muscles of his back. I locked my ankles, arching and pulling him in deeper, my heels digging into his ass, feeling his muscles working as he buried himself to the hilt.


    ¡°Ahhhh God,¡± he cried, arching back, hands planted on either side of my head now, his lower lip pulled in between his teeth as he emitted a low sound, a rising growl, his cock swollen to bursting inside of me. Just looking at him, the hard planes of his muscles working under his flesh, pulled taut, belly twitching, his cock too, made me want to come.


    I whimpered, reaching down to rub my clit, so sensitive, immediately responsive. Dale¡¯s eyes flew open and he looked down at what I was doing, at the place where we were joined, my fingers moving furiously in my wetness, taking myself just where I wanted to go.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I panted, meeting his eyes. ¡°Do it. Come with me.¡±


    He dipped his head to kiss me as he pulled out, out, almost all the way out, making me cry out against his mouth, and then slid back in with one, two, three, oh God, yes, like that, I lost count, but then he was coming, and so was I, a sweet, rising delirium, both of us catching and riding the crest of a wave.


    I felt every pulse of him as he buried himself inside of me, his body twisting on top of mine as if one more centimeter either way might drive us both up just a little bit higher. My pussy clamped down on him like a vise, milking his glorious length with every delicious spasm. Dale cried out, calling my name, biting my shoulder and my neck, both of us lost in one final, beautiful release, our bodies melting together as he collapsed his full weight onto mine.


    I whimpered when he slid out, rolling off of me and reaching for the covers, not wanting it to be over, but I didn¡¯t have to worry. We¡¯d waited a long time to come together, both literally and figuratively, but the first time wasn¡¯t anywhere close to the last time we would come together that night.


    It turned out the first time was just the warm-up for what was to come.


    CHAPTER FOURTEEN


    Barbara Streisand was telling us to have a merry little Christmas, snow fell heavily outside, and Dale and I were alone in front of the Christmas tree we¡¯d spent all afternoon decorating with his father.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe he¡¯s out on a date.¡± I took a sip of my hot chocolate. It had lots of mini marshmallows, just the way I liked it.


    ¡°I know, but I¡¯m glad. He deserves to be happy.¡±


    ¡°Mm-hmm.¡± I agreed, eating marshmallows with my spoon. ¡°So is he serious about finding another place?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s looking.¡± Dale stirred his hot chocolate, looking thoughtful. ¡°Someone broke into our storage bin again. There¡¯s staff housing near Rutgers.¡±


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s not too far.¡± I couldn¡¯t imagine not being just moments away from Dale, just two flights of stairs. I didn¡¯t want more distance between us, I wanted less. Even if it scared me.


    We sat in silence, watching the lights on the tree blink and the snow fall outside. After a while, I felt Dale¡¯s eyes on me. I put down my empty mug and slid across the floor to get close to him. He smiled, snuggling my head into the familiar niche between his shoulder and neck. Everything was so comfortable with him. It felt as if I¡¯d known him four years, not just four months.


    ¡°So, I didn¡¯t see you carry anything in for me.¡± Dale nuzzled my neck and sent goose bumps down my arms. ¡°Does that mean its small enough to fit in your pocket or you didn¡¯t get me anything because I¡¯ve been such a bad boy?¡±


    ¡°Actually, neither. It¡¯s already here.¡±


    He raised his eyebrows.


    ¡°And it¡¯s not totally from me,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Well, John and I split the cost. I used some money I¡¯ve been saving for a couple of years, but I still didn¡¯t have enough, so your dad helped out.¡±


    His eyes widened. ¡°Holy cow, what did you get me, a Porsche?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± I grinned. ¡°Something better. Close your eyes and I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    Dale dutifully closed his eyes and I helped him to his feet, leading him back to John¡¯s room. I sat him down on the bed and closed the door.


    ¡°Are you sure my Christmas gift is in here or is this just a ploy to get me into bed?¡±


    I laughed, opening the closet door. ¡°Are you ready?¡±


    ¡°I guess so.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I pulled off the towels and clothes we had covered it with. ¡°You can open your eyes.¡±


    He did, eyes widening, jaw dropping. He sat there like that for a full ten seconds, stunned.


    ¡°I... you... wow!¡±


    I laughed, clapping my hands. ¡°You really like it?¡±


    ¡°Like it?¡± Dale stood and swung me into his arms. ¡°You are the sweetest, most generous, most wonderful girl in the world. Thank you.¡± He hugged me close. ¡°Thank you so much.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± I whispered against his neck. ¡°Now you don¡¯t have an excuse not to win the Battle of the Bands.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you did this. Amplifiers cost a small fortune. You must have spent your life savings,¡± he murmured into my hair, hugging me so close it was hard to breathe.


    ¡°Almost,¡± I agreed. ¡°But you¡¯re worth every penny.¡±


    He kissed me then, taking my breath as always. I felt his heart beating fast against mine.


    ¡°Are you ready for yours?¡± he whispered near my ear.


    ¡°My what?¡± I was still dazed from his kiss.


    ¡°Come on.¡± He led me back into the living room. I sat on the floor while he dug around under the tree, pulling out a long black velvet box. My heart sank at the sight of it. He came to sit next to me.


    ¡°I know we talked about it and you said you weren¡¯t ready to make a real commitment, because of college and Tyler Vincent and me trying to make it in the music business,¡± he started, holding my hand and the box in the other.


    He paused and I looked at him.


    Don¡¯t do this, I pleaded silently and he smiled a little sheepishly.


    ¡°But¡ª?¡± I said for him.


    ¡°I want you to know this isn¡¯t like that. This is... this is to show you I understand... about your feelings for Tyler Vincent. And me.¡±


    I took the box from him and hesitated before opening it, a little afraid. It creaked open and I gasped aloud, lifting the heart-shaped locket, holding it up on tented fingers. The gold shone in the light and a diamond sparkled in its top left corner.


    ¡°Oh, Dale,¡± I whispered, holding it in my palm.


    ¡°Open it,¡± he encouraged.


    ¡°There¡¯s more?¡± I lifted the tiny latch and opened the heart. On the left side was a picture of Dale, looking a little younger but much the same. On the right side was a picture of Tyler Vincent. I felt tears well and couldn¡¯t keep them from falling.


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t cry. Don¡¯t you like it?¡± he asked, concerned, touching my cheek.


    I hugged him hard and fast, surprising him.


    ¡°It¡¯s lovely,¡± I whispered against his shirt. ¡°I don¡¯t deserve it. I don¡¯t deserve you.¡±


    ¡°You deserve a great deal more than this, beautiful, and I intend to give it to you.¡± He clutched me tightly.


    ¡°Will you put it on me?¡± I pulled away to hand the locket to him and lifted my hair. He put it around my neck and took a moment to do the clasp. I felt his breath touch the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck. I let my hair fall and turned to look at him.


    ¡°Dale.¡± I said his name quietly, running my hand along his jaw. ¡°Thank you. For this. For understanding. For everything.¡±


    ¡°Do I have to say you¡¯re welcome? You¡¯re always welcome.¡± He opened his arms and I went to him, snuggling in close, closer.


    ¡°We need some mistletoe,¡± I murmured.


    ¡°What for?¡± His eyes were closed.


    ¡°So you¡¯d have an excuse to kiss me.¡±


    He smiled, flashing that sweet dimple and looking at me. ¡°I don¡¯t need an excuse.¡±

 Page 22

    His mouth found mine and I found myself wrapping myself around him, limbs twining around his neck, his waist. Dale shifted his weight, rolling me into the floor, both of us rocking together, him on top of me. His mouth slanted across mine, drawing me into him, and I was completely lost in the sensation. I gasped when his tongue touched mine, teasing, probing, exploring.


    I¡¯d never been kissed like this man kissed me.Advertisement


    He took me places I didn¡¯t even know existed in my own imagination.


    Then his mouth moved down my neck, hands pushing at my sweater, seeking the skin of my belly, kissing my navel. He paused there to lick it, using my belly button and his tongue as mini-models, dipping in and fucking it a little, making me moan with anticipation.


    I peeled my sweater off over my head and his gaze fell onto my black bra, moving over the tops of my breasts, pressing upwards like an invitation.


    I reached for him, and we rolled again. This time, it was me pushing his shirt up, peeling it off, seeking skin. I wanted to feel him against me. He didn¡¯t object, tossing his shirt over to join mine as we kissed and groped each other in the dimness.


    His lips made their way over the tops of my breasts, feathering kisses there, making me wiggle and squirm beneath him. He fumbled with the hook on my bra, and I let him, my hands moving over the smooth skin of his back, tugging at his belt and the waistband of his jeans, trying to pull him in tighter.


    The steady throb between my legs increased the moment he freed my breasts, his mouth covering one, hand cupping the other. His breath came fast and hard and his hips moved with mine. I felt him hard against my thigh and the way he pulsed made me weak with lust.


    ¡°Oh God,¡± I whispered as he licked at my nipples. They hardened for him immediately and when he sucked them, I ground my hips against his, moaning softly and grabbing his hair in my hands.


    My skirt rode up to my waist and I wrapped my thighs around him, squeezing, hearing him groan as I wiggled myself into position, feeling his hardness pressing fully between my legs now through the denim of his jeans.


    ¡°Sara,¡± he murmured, his mouth wet against my breasts. He touched my hand, pressing it down between us, over the bulge in his jeans. I gasped and rubbed him. He groaned, moving against me. ¡°Oh God, that¡¯s good¡­like that¡­yeah¡­¡±


    His breath came hot and fast against my face as he kissed me again, his hand moving up under my skirt, yanking my panties down, his palm pressing my thigh to one side. I opened for him, his hand exploring upwards, rubbing over the aching mound between my legs, making me moan into his mouth. He pressed his palm there, rocking it.


    ¡°Ohhhh.¡± I groaned softly when his fingers felt past the soft triangle of hair, parting it. He smiled to find me so moist, rubbing his fingers through the soft folds of flesh.


    ¡°Sara,¡± he whispered, reaching down and unbuckling the studded belt he always wore.


    I slipped my hand down to help him, unzipping his jeans. ¡°One day you¡¯ll have to tell me the story behind this belt.¡±


    He smiled. ¡°Some day.¡±


    He gasped when I slid his jeans down his hips, his cock springing free in my hand. Grasping it, I tugged gently, moving the loose skin along the shaft up over the thick head. He gave a sigh of pleasure, kissing me again, tongue pressing deep into my mouth this time. His fingers had found me, not entering me, but rubbing me instead, round and round in a perfect rhythm.


    ¡°Oh that¡¯s good,¡± I whispered, pulling on his cock, pressing it between us and stroking it against my bare belly. He thrust into my hand, eyes half-closed, mouth hovering over mine.


    His hips moved against my jerking hand as I squeezed and tugged at him, pre-cum seeping from the head and lubricating the shaft.


    ¡°Ohhh Dale, baby, please don¡¯t stop¡­¡± I gasped, spreading my thighs for his fingers, rubbing that sweet, hooded bud of flesh again and again. ¡°Please, oh please¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± His gaze never left my face, watching me like I was the most interesting thing he¡¯d ever laid eyes on.


    ¡°Oh God.¡± I moaned, feeling his cock pulsing faster in my hand. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ gonna¡­¡±


    ¡°Come for me,¡± he whispered in my ear, working my clit faster and faster. ¡°Come on, Sara¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± I cried, hips bucking as my orgasm overtook me, the delicious waves rocking my body against his again and again. His whole hand covered my mound, cupping my wetness and holding it there, his tongue probing between my lips. It seemed to go on forever.


    ¡°Mine,¡± he whispered, rocking his hand, revving my engine again, making me purr.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I agreed, delirious with pleasure.


    ¡°Yours.¡± I kissed his lips, soft and wet and open.


    ¡°Yours.¡± His cheek, stubble, sweet sandpaper.


    ¡°Yours.¡± I squeezed his cock, swollen and throbbing in my hand.


    ¡°Mine,¡± he growled, rolling me on top of him, my panties gone in an instant. He opened my thighs wider with his palms, thumbs spreading my labia, looking at the soft, pink flesh inside. ¡°Mine. Oh fuck, Sara, you¡¯re so beautiful, I can¡¯t stand it.¡±


    The way he looked at me made me feel faint.


    ¡°Yours,¡± I whispered, reaching down to find him, thick and throbbing in my hand. ¡°Take it, Dale. Take me.¡±


    He grabbed my hips, guiding me, sliding my sex along the underside of his shaft. With just one shift of his hips, he impaled me. I cried out, hands flat on his bare chest to keep myself upright, to keep from collapsing on top of him at the overwhelming sensation. He took a deep, shuddering breath, gaze dipping between my legs, watching himself slide up into me.


    ¡°Yes.¡± I touched his cheek, drawing his attention back up to me, eyes locked with mine. ¡°Yours. I promise. Yours.¡±


    He moaned, reaching for me, folding me up into his arms as I rocked on top of him, rolling my hips, grinding my pelvis as we kissed, tongues plunging. I¡¯d never felt so safe, so held, as when we were joined this way. There was nothing in the world like it, nothing I had ever experienced.


    It wasn¡¯t just sex¡ªit was beyond that basic, animal drive. This man knew me. I didn¡¯t have to tell him anything. He just knew. The way we rocked together, the way he kissed me, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn¡¯t watching, the way my world suddenly revolved around him like my body had found its core, the center of the universe¡ªit was everything.


    Coming together with him like this wasn¡¯t some quick fizzle and pop, like I¡¯d experienced with other guys. It was a long, sustained, glorious stretch of energy, as if together, we created our own plane of existence, far above the world we walked around in every day. It was like magic, like the joining of our bodies transcended everything, even our selves, until we were floating together as one out among the stars.


    Dale cried out beneath me, his arms tightening around my back, pulling my breasts down, flattening them against his chest, hips thrusting up, doing all the work now. He was taking me, fucking me from underneath, moving toward that final moment, as if he could thrust up through me and burst me right open, like a sunburst exploding on the surface of the sun.


    ¡°Come for me,¡± I moaned for him, just like he had for me, grinding my hips into his, meeting him, wanting it too. I wanted to feel him blast off inside of me.


    Dale stiffened suddenly, groaning and driving up hard, hips bucking under mine, and I felt the white-hot burst of him deep inside my belly. He shuddered with it, his mouth capturing mine, the moment one long sustained ride of pleasure so beautiful I cried, bursting into tears with the flood of emotion, unable to contain it.


    He held me close, whispering my name over and over into my ear, kissing my tears. I wasn¡¯t sad. I tried to tell him. I tried to open my mouth and say the words, but only more tears would come. I clung to him as he pulled a blanket from the sofa over us, my breath hitching as the heat in my chest and belly began to ebb.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he murmured as we snuggled under the Christmas tree and stared up through the branches at all of the lights and decorations.


    I nodded, still not able to speak, my tears drying on my cheeks.


    I was feeling something so big and so foreign to me, I couldn¡¯t quite identify it at first. Like Dale, with Dale, it had come into my life out of nowhere and had taken over. When had it crept in? While I wasn¡¯t looking or paying attention? It happened as quietly as the snow falling outside, blanketing everything.


    I sobbed, letting him hold me and wipe away my tears, and knew, finally, what it was.


    I was happy.


    CHAPTER FIFTEEN


    ¡°Do I look fat in this?¡± Aimee turned sideways in the bathroom mirror.


    ¡°You know better than to ask me that question.¡± I looked over at her from where I was leaning over the sink, touching up my mascara, moving aside when another girl came out of one of the stalls and wanted to wash her hands.


    ¡°I just¡­¡± Aimee smoothed her hands down over her dress and her practically concave stomach. ¡°Matt¡¯s mother said something at the wedding.¡±


    I gaped at her. ¡°About your weight?¡±


    ¡°No. About Leslie. You know, the bride.¡±


    I snapped my mascara closed and tossed it back into my purse. ¡°What does that have to do with you?¡±


    ¡°Nothing I guess.¡±


    ¡°What did she say?¡±


    ¡°That a woman should be at her thinnest and most beautiful on her wedding day.¡±


    ¡°Ridiculous.¡± I scoffed, coming over and putting my arms around her from behind and resting my chin on her shoulder. ¡°Besides every bride is beautiful. It¡¯s like newborn babies or puppies. They can¡¯t help it.¡±


    ¡°I hope so.¡± She met my eyes in the mirror and smiled. ¡°Because Matt asked me to marry him.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I turned her around to face me, hands on her shoulders, my mouth hanging open. ¡°You¡¯re kidding me? Right? You¡¯re¡­?¡±


    She pulled off one of her white lace Madonna gloves, showing me her left hand. There was a ring on it. It wasn¡¯t huge, but it was a diamond.


    ¡°How did he afford this?¡± I gasped, grabbing her hand and staring at it.


    ¡°He¡¯s making pretty good money working for his dad,¡± Aimee explained. ¡°Once he gets his CPA, he¡¯ll be a full-fledged accountant. He¡¯s the only one of the boys interested in the family business¡­ Did you hear me? I¡¯m getting married!¡±


    We both looked at each other and screamed, squealing and hugging and laughing and jumping up and down like three-year-olds until two girls came in to use the bathroom and looked at us like we were crazy.


    ¡°That means you and Carrie are going to be sisters?¡± I blinked at her. ¡°How weird is that?¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± She laughed. ¡°Carrie said the same thing.¡±


    ¡°She knows?¡±


    ¡°Matt proposed at the rehearsal dinner.¡±


    My jaw dropped again. ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°I was embarrassed¡ªI thought it was kind of mean, to steal Leslie¡¯s day, but I guess he¡¯d been planning it. They all knew about it and wanted him to.¡±


    ¡°His parents are okay with it? I mean¡­ you¡¯ve been dating, what, six months?¡±

 Page 23

    She blinked at me. ¡°As long as you¡¯ve been dating Dale.¡±


    ¡°Well yeah¡­ but I¡¯m not marrying him.¡±Advertisement


    ¡°Yet.¡± She grinned.


    ¡°Come on, I think he¡¯s next.¡± I grabbed her hand as we hurried back out into the club, where it was so dark, smoky and loud no one could hear themselves think¡ªwhich was probably the point.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d drowned.¡± Matt winked at me as we slid back into our seats at the table. The lead singer of the band on stage was a Flock of Seagulls wannabe and his mohawk was just a flash of white over the crowd.


    ¡°He¡¯s up next!¡± Wendy had to practically yell to be heard. Carrie was on the other side of her.


    ¡°Is he any good?¡± Matt draped his arm casually across Aimee¡¯s shoulders. I¡¯d forgotten he hadn¡¯t seen Black Diamond performing in the mall the day we¡¯d met up with them, before the movies, and he¡¯d missed the first auditions, the qualifying round for today¡ªthe semi-finals.


    ¡°He¡¯s amazing.¡± Aimee pointed toward the stage where Black Diamond was setting up their equipment.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to win,¡± I said, but I don¡¯t think anyone heard me.


    Dale was up there, looking like a god in his jeans and t-shirt and combat boots, head bent as he tuned his guitar and plugged it into his new amp. The band was setting up too, his bass player, Terry, leaning over to say something to him. Terry didn¡¯t like me. None of them did. They thought I was too much of a distraction, and they were probably right.


    I felt a little sorry for the other guys in the band. They could play¡ªthe music sounded good, mostly because Dale was a harsh taskmaster, forcing them to practice every single day¡ªbut no one ever noticed them. It was terrible, but I couldn¡¯t even remember the drummer¡¯s name. He was a big bear of a guy, full beard, wore a headband and only a tank-top when they played, and I just thought of him as ¡°Bear.¡± Their lead guitarist, Rick, was a Dale wannabe, but nowhere near as enigmatic. I think he was the only one who really resented the way Dale stood out and the rest of them faded into the background simply because he was on stage.


    I think the rest of them knew they were superfluous, but kind of like Ringo had once said about the Beatles, they were just happy to be there, part of something greater than themselves.


    And they were great. Not only were they great, they were ready. I¡¯d heard them play just two nights ago in the academy auditorium, where they held our all-school assemblies, and had been blown away by how good they sounded.


    But I was still nervous.


    There were cameras here from MTV, although this part of the Battle of the Bands wouldn¡¯t be televised. They were just gathering footage in case any of these bands happened to make it to the finals.


    ¡°Sara, don¡¯t bite your nails,¡± Aimee said, looking up.


    ¡°Yes, Mommy,¡± I snapped, pulling my hand away from my mouth, inspecting the damage I¡¯d done. If I bit them any more, they were going to bleed.


    ¡°It¡¯s starting!¡± Wendy pointed.


    ¡°Here¡¯s another group¡ªthey hail from Iselin, New Jersey.¡± The emcee¡¯s voice was loud over the speakers. ¡°They call themselves Black Diamond!¡±


    The noise level swelled and it reminded me of a smaller version of the Tyler Vincent concert. The lights went dark, all of them, and then began pulsing with the beat of the song. And there was Dale, standing in front of the microphone, head slightly belt, listening for his cue. His leg moved slightly to the beat, one hand on the mic, the other on his guitar.


    When he lifted his head and began to sing, looking out into the audience, the spotlight focused on him and him alone, it was immediately clear this man was a star. Every girl in the place jumped to her feet, unable to contain the feelings he elicited. There was something about him that forced a woman to respond. I felt it too, my body rising without thought, screaming along with the rest of the crowd.


    His voice was hypnotic and it drew everyone. The song was a Bon Jovi cover¡ªanother New Jersey band who¡¯d made it to the big time. I knew Dale was on his way. Wendy reached over, grabbing my hand, squealing, ¡°Come on!¡± Carrie was on the other side of her and had her hand, pulling her toward the stage. Aimee made up the last of our all girl train as we threaded our way through the crowd.


    There was just no staying still when Dale was on stage. A crowd had already gathered at the front, pushing in, so there was no room for us. We got as close as we could, like everyone else, swept away by the music and the magic of his voice, the way he moved the energy through the room. He shared it, rather than hoarding it, like I¡¯d seen so many bands tonight do. Too many of them had been like some self-contained unit, in a little bubble, performing not for the crowd but for themselves.


    Dale knew how to perform, not just for a crowd, but with them. You felt engaged by him, like it was personal. You felt as if he was singing just to you and he meant every single word. I don¡¯t know how he did it. I don¡¯t think it was a trick, or a gimmick. I think it was just Dale. It was just who he was, and he came across on stage like he was the center of the universe, the source of all gravity, pulling us in, pulling us toward him.


    I was enthralled. They all were. I glanced at the MTV cameraman and he was working hard to keep up. They had another camera on the other side of the stage that had been off previously, but it was manned now, filming Black Diamond. As the song came to a close, the crowd cheered more loudly than I¡¯d heard yet. It was as if they had been waiting for this moment all night. Maybe longer than that. And this was just their first song. They had one more to go.


    My eyes were glued on Dale, his dark beauty coming so electrically alive I couldn¡¯t look away. The applause was deafening. I was so proud I could barely speak. Dale was sweating and smiling. His happiness was infectious. Their second song was a slow one, something he had written himself. They had to do at least one cover song, but they were allowed to do one original if they wanted to. Most of them had just done two cover songs.


    ¡°This one is for my girl, Sara,¡± Dale said into the microphone. ¡°She¡¯s out there tonight and she¡¯ll know what I mean.¡±


    Aimee looked at me. I saw Matt had joined her, standing behind with his arms wrapped around her waist. She gave me a thumbs up and I smiled back. Every girl in that place wanted to be ¡°Sara¡± in that moment. But I was Sara. I was his Sara. On stage, he belonged to everyone. But when he stepped off it, he was mine.


    My heart was full to bursting.


    When the music started, it wasn¡¯t the song they¡¯d practiced, the one I¡¯d heard him do in the academy auditorium. It was a song I¡¯d never heard before. Aimee grinned at me, applauding with everyone else. He changed the mood swiftly and easily with the quality of his voice:


    ¡°My heart is strong, its beat goes on


    Nothing can stop me now until I have won


    If I can¡¯t love my own freedom and truth


    Why would you trust me when I say I love you¡­¡±


    He¡¯d found me in the crowd. I don¡¯t know how, under all those lights, but he¡¯d found me and was looking right at me. The energy between us was electrifying. I felt it surging through me, making my toes curl and the hair at the back of my neck stand on end.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take you places, baby, you never could


    Don¡¯t make me hurt you, baby, for your own good


    I¡¯ll be your lover, I¡¯ll be your man


    Just never ask me not to be what I am


    These hands that work, fight and play hard at night


    These hands you trust, girl, everyday to treat you right


    Don¡¯t you forget, girl, that they are led by my heart


    They¡¯ll always put first what I¡¯ve loved from the start¡­¡±


    The song ended and the lights went dark again.


    The crowd went absolutely wild. So many people rushed the stage we were being crushed. I could barely breathe. The crowd chanted, ¡°Black Diamond, Black Diamond, Black Diamond.¡± The cameras were still rolling and Dale stood at the microphone, head down. I saw his chest rising and falling with his breath, even in the dim haze. The emcee came onto the stage, leaning over to say something to Dale, into his ear, behind his hand. Then Dale handed the microphone over.


    The spotlight went on, illuminating the emcee and Dale beside him.


    ¡°You want more of Black Diamond?¡± the emcee asked.


    The crowd screamed like crazy. I did too.


    ¡°Here they are for an encore. Black Diamond!¡±


    The emcee handed the mic back to Dale and they were off to the races, doing another cover, this one by Journey. I watched Dale move across the stage, beautiful and strangely graceful, striding back and forth like he owned it. And he did. He didn¡¯t just know it, everyone knew it¡ªeven Rick, the envious lead guitarist, who came over to Dale while he was singing, both of them playing guitar together, making the crowd cheer.


    No other band that night had been asked to do an encore. I knew then, if I hadn¡¯t already known, Black Diamond was going to make it.


    The emcee took the microphone when the song was done, trying to calm the crowd as Dale and the band broke down their equipment with the help of the stage crew. There were other bands that had to follow them. I felt sorry for them.


    We made our way back and found the table we¡¯d been sitting at with our drinks still waiting. Carrie and Wendy stayed out on the dance floor because INXS was now playing over the speakers, the lights pulsing to the beat of the music. Matt, Aimee and I looked at each other, all of us still a little high from the performance.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to be a fucking rock star.¡± Matt shook his head in disbelief, taking a swig of his beer.


    ¡°I know.¡± I did know. I just wasn¡¯t so sure how I felt about it.


    ¡°What¡¯d you think?¡± Dale grabbed a chair and sat astride it next to me, surprising me out of nowhere. ¡°Were we okay?¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± Aimee put her arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. ¡°You were fantastic! If I wasn¡¯t engaged, I¡¯d ask you to marry me!¡±


    Dale stared at her, eyes widening. Then he looked at Matt, grinned, and held up his hand for a high five. Matt came across and gave him one, both of them laughing.


    ¡°Congratulations!¡± Dale said.


    ¡°You¡¯re really good.¡± Matt shook his head again like he couldn¡¯t quite believe what he¡¯d seen. There were girls already gathering in groups, giggling and squealing and pointing at Dale. I knew once they gathered the courage they would be approaching him for autographs and whatever else they could think of to entice him.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Dale turned to me, leaning closer so he could say it in my ear. ¡°What did you think?¡±


    ¡°You were amazing.¡± I felt his hand slide into mine. ¡°But you¡¯re always amazing.¡±


    ¡°I wrote that song for you.¡± He leaned in closer, his lips brushing my ear. ¡°They¡¯re all for you.¡±


    ¡°What do you think all those girls would say if you told them that?¡± I pointed into the crowd where there were groups of girls gathering like storm clouds.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± He took my chin in his hand, turning it to face him. ¡°You¡¯re all I care about. Yours is the only opinion that matters to me.¡±

 Page 24

    He kissed me, a slow, claiming kiss. My arms went around his neck, fingers moving through the thick, dark silk of his hair as his tongue found mine. Whenever I kissed Dale, everything else went away. I didn¡¯t think about who might be watching or what they might be thinking. There was nothing in the world but Dale and his sweet, soft, perfect mouth on mine, a connection I never wanted to break.


    When we came up for air, that¡¯s when I remembered the rest of the world. I saw all the girls who had been swooning over him on stage looking at us, jealous. Part of me liked that feeling, knowing he was mine, that they wanted him but couldn¡¯t have him. He¡¯d chosen me. But Dale seemed oblivious to the rest of the world, pressing his forehead to mine, eyes closed, nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath.Advertisement


    ¡°Come dance with me.¡± He grabbed my hand, dragging me out onto the floor. INXS¡ªNeed You Tonight¡ªwas still playing over the huge floor to ceiling speakers and Dale put his arms around me, edging our way through the couples and groups dancing, completely ignoring the girls who reached out to touch him or compliment him on his performance.


    The body heat on the floor was intense. The whole club hung with a hazy humidity. Someone had propped a back door open to let in the cold winter air, but it didn¡¯t seem to help. I was sweating, my t-shirt sticking to me, but Dale¡¯s hands went there anyway, pulling up my shirt and sliding his hands along my lower back to move my body with his. His mouth found mine as we danced, and I moaned as his hips pressed into my pelvis, grinding against me to the beat of the music. It wasn¡¯t dancing¡ªit was sex.


    ¡°Dale,¡± I whispered into his ear, holding onto him as he propelled me across the floor, leading me, our bodies melded together, moving as one. My knees were weak but he held me with one hand, guiding me with the motion of his hips. I was completely his to do with what he wanted and he knew it.


    ¡°I have to fuck you,¡± he growled, his teeth raking my neck.


    ¡°Here?¡± I gasped, my nipples hardening instantly, my sex contracting, hot and wet. I saw Wendy and Carrie on the dance floor together¡ªINXS was Wendy¡¯s favorite¡ªand they were watching us. Dale glanced over, seeing them too.


    ¡°Now.¡± His cock was like an iron bar, grinding into my crotch as we moved, his hand moving lower, dipping into the back of my skirt, tugging on the back of my panties. ¡°I want to be inside you.¡±


    I moaned as he began a back and forth, see-saw motion, threading my panties through the slippery seam between my legs.


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Come on.¡± He didn¡¯t let me go and I saw Carrie through half-lidded eyes. She was grinning, nudging Wendy as Dale danced me off the floor. His mouth found mine as he pushed me up against the wall once we were backstage. The bathrooms were down this hall and people moved past us, but I was oblivious to anything but the flurry of their movement as they passed. Dale had me up against the wall, grinding, his belt biting into my belly, my legs wrapped around his waist.


    ¡°Not here,¡± I gasped.


    ¡°No.¡± He carried me, still wrapped around his waist, down the hall, past the bathrooms, straight-arming a door and taking me inside.


    I looked over his shoulder as he turned on the light, revealing a small room stuffed with amps, speakers, stage lights, cords hanging from hooks on the wall. He pushed the lock on the door as he closed it behind us, kissing me and pinning me against it. I grabbed the edge of his t-shirt, pulling it up and off, running my hands over the hard, smooth planes of his chest, moaning when he thumbed my hard nipples through my shirt.


    There was nowhere to lie down, but that didn¡¯t seem to bother him as he held me in place against the door with his hips, peeling my t-shirt off and unhooking my bra in front. He looked down at me like he wanted to devour me¡ªand then he did, driving me further up against the door so he could cup my breasts in his hands, sucking greedily. I whimpered, squeezing him hard between my thighs, crushing his ribs, my sex pulsing.


    Dale groaned, coming up for air, eyes so dark they looked black under the fluorescent light as he maneuvered me, throwing my thighs up over his shoulders and lifting me higher, my body slick with sweat, my back sliding easily against the metal door. I gasped in surprise, grabbing onto his head, the only thing I could reach, as he buried his face between my legs, my denim skirt pushed up to my waist.


    My panties were still on but he didn¡¯t let that stop him, nosing them out of the way and tonguing my sex, making low, growling noises in his throat like a big cat purring with pleasure while it devoured its prey. The room spun, the shelves of equipment around me melting away, and I closed my eyes, too high, too dizzy, to keep them open. His tongue was doing things to my body I didn¡¯t even know were possible.


    ¡°Oh God, oh God,¡± I cried, back arching, looking for something to hold onto and finding only the top of the door frame, my nails raking the wall behind me, writhing on top of his shoulders, not sure if I was looking for a way out or a way through, just knowing my body was so close to climax I felt as if I just might actually burst.


    And then I was coming, his tongue flickering furiously between my legs, his face buried against my swollen, spasming sex. I cried out, even though I told myself to be quiet, I couldn¡¯t, calling his name, my hands in his hair, my body pitching forward with the tremors of my orgasm. He held me by my hips, steadying me, never stopping, his mouth bringing me so much pleasure I thought I might pass out.


    I don¡¯t remember how I got in his arms. He let me go a little and I slid down the door like Wylie Coyote hitting a cartoon wall. I could barely breathe already and then he kissed me and I tasted myself in his mouth, musky and tangy. I moaned, sucking at his tongue, and he gasped when I did that, pressing me back into the door with his hips, letting me feel how hard he was through his jeans, hands digging into the flesh of my ass.


    Then he let me go to unbuckle his belt. My gaze moved from the dark look of lust in his eyes, down his bare chest, to his hands working his belt. I couldn¡¯t hold myself up, my knees were too weak and I sank to them, reaching for his zipper. Dale stopped, watching as I nuzzled his crotch, sliding his jeans down over his hips, moaning as his cock sprang free.


    ¡°Suck it.¡±


    But he didn¡¯t have to tell me, I already had it in my mouth, the tip wet with pre-cum, velvety smooth on my tongue, sliding toward the back of my throat as he shifted his hips forward. His hand moved in my hair, guiding me, and I moaned around his shaft as he began fucking my mouth, a slow, steady rhythm, looking down at me with dark, lust-filled eyes.


    I gasped as he began to move faster, fucking my mouth, sliding his cock deeper into my throat, seeing the studded flash of his belt as he thrust, the buckle biting my cheek when he grabbed my head and held himself there, buried almost to the hilt. And still, I wanted more of him, the peppery taste of his pre-cum making my sex ache until I couldn¡¯t stand it.


    I reached down to touch myself and Dale¡¯s eyes widened, watching me spread my thighs, panties still pulled aside as I rubbed that swollen, aching nub at the top of my cleft. His motion slowed as he watched me, and I whimpered when he withdrew, sticking my tongue out, licking the tip, still within my reach, but he pulled my head back, his fist in my hair, shaking his head.


    ¡°No, I want to fuck you,¡± he insisted, and my pussy clenched at his words in anticipation. ¡°I have to fuck you.¡±


    There was nowhere to go, no couches or tables, not even a chair. Dale glanced around the room and then, decisive, pulled me gently to standing. I was still wobbly, and he grabbed me to him with one hand, moving me again with his hips, but this time I could feel his cock shifting between my thighs as if seeking entrance.


    He slid me over, past the door, in front of one of the wooden shelves where they stored the stage equipment. There was just enough room between two of the small amps, and the shelf was the perfect height as he lifted me up on it. I spread my legs to make room for him between them and he came to me, kissing me hard against the cold wall, feeling the head of his cock sliding up and down against my swollen mound.


    I gasped when he found me, our eyes locking as he slid slowly inside, his face saying everything his mouth couldn¡¯t once he¡¯d slipped all the way inside, filling me completely. His eyes closed for a moment, just one, brief, fleeting moment, his lower lip drawn between his teeth, his cock throbbing inside of me, a steady beat, like the pulsing of the music before the lights went up and he began to sing.


    He was the most beautiful man I¡¯d ever seen.


    Then he opened his eyes to look at me, and the emotion there, the love and the lust and the pain and the anger, all of it there in his eyes, took my breath away. I knew then in that moment he was giving me everything, he had already given it to me, had been trying to hold it back and had failed, all this time, afraid to be hurt, afraid to be vulnerable, afraid I might turn away or reject it, and I couldn¡¯t believe he would think I would, I could.


    I wanted him, all of him.


    He began to move in me, hips rocking me on the shelf, cock deliciously wet with my juices, sliding easily in and out. Dale reached down to grab the edge of my skirt, shoving it up so he could look down and watch himself go into me. My panties were still shoved to the side, giving him access. I loved the way he looked at me, like he could have swallowed me whole.


    ¡°Look,¡± he whispered, sliding slowly out of me, almost all the way out.


    I bit my lip, watching as he slipped back inside, the two of us becoming one like some magic trick as he made himself disappear inside of me, at the same time filling me up completely. It was the most amazing thing in the world, and when I met his eyes, I knew he saw it too.


    ¡°Touch yourself,¡± he said, his gaze still hot between my thighs. ¡°I want to watch.¡±


    I slipped my hand down between my legs, gently nudging my clit, shivering at the sensation, my nipples hardening instantly. Dale¡¯s eyes lit up as he watched me pleasure myself, my fingers making circles around and around, the feeling so much bigger with him buried inside of me like this it was almost too much.


    ¡°God you¡¯re so fucking beautiful,¡± he said hoarsely, his fingers gripping my hips hard, digging deep. He lowered his head to mine, whispering in my ear, ¡°Is that what you do when you think about Tyler?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I gasped, denying it, my legs going around him as he shoved himself in deep, buried to the hilt. ¡°It¡¯s what I do when I think about you.¡±


    He pulled back to look at me, searching for the truth, and I saw it in his eyes, the need to possess me, the need to keep me and hold me and have me, forever, his and only his. I didn¡¯t know what to do, what to say, to convince him, so I just put my arms around his neck and gave myself to him completely, begging him to take me, to make me his.


    ¡°You are,¡± he growled, driving into me harder now, faster, hips working between my legs. ¡°Mine. Mine. So. Fucking. Mine.¡±


    ¡°Say it,¡± he hissed into my ear, biting my lobe, making me yelp in surprise. ¡°Tell me you¡¯re mine.¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± I whimpered. The force of his thrusts shook the shelf, the whole wall behind us, but neither of us took much notice. ¡°Oh God, yes, Dale, I¡¯m yours. I¡¯m yours. All yours!¡±

 Page 25

    He gave one last shuddering groan, sinking so deeply, almost painfully, inside of me. It was like being impaled with a spear and I could have sworn I tasted him at the back of my throat as he came, every white-hot burst of his cock spilling millions of his seed, marking his territory, making me his in a way no man ever had¡ªor ever would again.


    I kissed his moist cheek, his jaw, found his mouth and kissed him fully on the lips, our breath still hot and fast and gasping, wishing I could tell him how much he meant to me, but there just weren¡¯t words.Advertisement


    When he opened his eyes and looked at me, I was lost.


    Smiling, giving me just a brief flash of that dimple, he touched the tip of my nose with his and asked, ¡°Do you really think we¡¯ll make it to the finals?¡±


    I cupped his face in my hands, kissing him again, soft and brief and loving.


    ¡°You¡¯ll make it,¡± I assured him, confident.


    And they did.


    CHAPTER SIXTEEN


    ¡°You¡¯ll be my Bonnie, baby,


    I¡¯ll be your Clyde


    You¡¯ve got my shotgun


    On this suicide ride


    If they ever catch us


    They ain¡¯t gonna like what they find


    We¡¯re taken no prisoners, baby


    No one gets out alive¡­¡±


    I sat and watched them, quietly sketching Dale. We were in the academy auditorium and Black Diamond was practicing on stage. It was going on four o¡¯clock and we¡¯d been there since two-thirty. They were finally gearing up for the finals in April¡ªthey had sailed through the semi-finals as easily as the first round. They were a favorite to win the finals, which would be held in New York and televised on MTV.


    Dale had written this song and they were trying it out and drawing quite a crowd with it.


    ¡°If we¡¯re going down


    We¡¯re going down in a blaze of glory


    Our burning hearts will tell the story


    We will rise from the ashes, baby


    Going down in a blaze of glory¡­¡±


    Dale was playing to an audience of about thirty who¡¯d been drawn by the music. There were two janitors who had decided to stick around and watch and the rest were fans who had heard he was practicing and had decided to stay after to watch. My sketches of him were getting better, I decided. I¡¯d managed to capture part of his energy on paper, but it was still so difficult to do.


    ¡°If we¡¯re going down


    We¡¯re going down in a¡ª¡±


    Dale stopped singing. ¡°Whoa, whoa, wait a minute!¡± The music came to a clanking, jerking halt and I looked up. ¡°I don¡¯t like this key. My throat is killing me.¡±


    ¡°Lower or higher?¡± Terry asked.


    ¡°Lower.¡± Dale played a few bars in a lower key on his guitar. ¡°Can you guys get that?¡± They picked it up in an instant.


    ¡°All right!¡± Dale grinned. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a minute. I¡¯ve got to get a drink.¡±


    Dale set his guitar down and hopped off the stage, heading toward where I was sitting. I smiled up at him. Sweat beaded on his forehead.


    ¡°Want to come with me?¡± he asked. ¡°If this keeps up, I¡¯m not going to have a voice left at all.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I closed my sketch book and took his hand, following him toward the auditorium doors.


    ¡°What did you think?¡± he asked, heading toward the drinking fountain in the hallway.


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°I hope we¡¯ve got it wrapped up.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Finals are April twenty-second. You¡¯re coming, right?¡±


    He¡¯d only asked me a hundred times.


    ¡°Of course. I wouldn¡¯t miss it for anything.¡±


    ¡°Good, because¡ª¡± He bent down to get a drink and that cut off any more words. I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, I pushed the back of his head and he looked up at me, eyes wide, face dripping. I couldn¡¯t help but laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get it!¡± he growled, but he was grinning. I backed away as he advanced, still laughing. When I began to run, he grabbed me around the waist, whirling me around to face him. He pulled me close, rubbing his cold, wet cheek against mine until I squealed in protest. Laughing, he wiped his face with the tail-end of his t-shirt and then wiped mine too, giving me a very nice glimpse of his washboard abs.


    I put my arms around his neck, sliding my thigh up between his, watching his eyes darken, my nails lightly raking over the back of his neck the way I knew he liked, the way that got him instantly hard.


    ¡°Stop distracting me,¡± he insisted, but he kissed me, tongue probing, making my limbs feel heavy and weak, like I couldn¡¯t hold myself up, but that was okay, because I was in his arms, his hips pinning me to the wall, and I couldn¡¯t help remember how he licked me and fucked me in the storage room at the club, how Carrie and Wendy had looked at us when we came out, all disheveled and flushed.


    That¡¯s when Dale told me they were lesbians.


    ¡°Are you sure about Carrie and Wendy?¡± I murmured, as Dale distracted himself now, nibbling on my collar bone.


    He chuckled. ¡°Sweetheart, your gaydar is so broken it¡¯s not even funny.¡±


    ¡°It is not,¡± I protested, letting my head tilt a little to the side so he could rub that gorgeous stubble over my neck. ¡°I knew Boy George was gay.¡±


    Dale snorted laughter. ¡°The Pope could tell Boy George is gay.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I guess it makes sense. I¡¯ve never seen either of them with a guy, and they¡¯re always together. I just thought they were friends, like me and Aimee¡­¡±


    He pulled back to look at me, amused.


    ¡°Gaydar. Broken.¡± He touched my nose with each word.


    ¡°But they talk about guys!¡± I protested.


    He smiled. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you, if you didn¡¯t want anyone to know?¡±


    ¡°So who else?¡± I asked, frowning. ¡°What am I missing?¡±


    ¡°George Michael is gay,¡± he said, watching with amusement as my eyes widened.


    ¡°He is not!¡±


    Dale cracked up. ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡±


    ¡°Next thing you¡¯ll be telling me Tyler Vincent is gay,¡± I muttered, playing with his belt, wishing I could undo it right here and now.


    ¡°That would solve a few problems.¡± He made a face, shaking his head. ¡°But no. Not gay.¡±


    ¡°Dale! There you are!¡± Holly Larson hurried toward us. ¡°I saw you at the semi-finals. You guys were great! Are you doing that song for the finals? It¡¯s so awesome!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know yet,¡± he replied. He was never short or cold or mean to anyone who came up to compliment his music, although sometimes, like now, I really wished he would just tell them to take a hike. Especially her.


    Holly stood in front of us, playing with the end of her ponytail, trying to look all seductive. She acted like I wasn¡¯t even standing there.


    ¡°Hey, maybe I can say I knew you when.¡± Holly smiled. That was the smile that caught her Josh Wilson, quarterback, in high school¡ªand got her pregnant, I thought, a little ungraciously. He¡¯d dropped her like Van Halen dropped David Lee Roth when he found out, and Holly had disappeared for the rest of the year. We all heard she gave her baby up for adoption.


    ¡°Maybe.¡± Dale looked like he was enjoying her attention a little too much.


    ¡°My birthday¡¯s coming up at the end of March, and I know it¡¯s a little early, but I was wondering if you wanted to help me host?¡±


    My eyes widened and then narrowed at her. Unbelievable! Was she kidding?


    ¡°I think I have plans.¡± Dale turned, seeing the look on my face and immediately steering me toward the auditorium doors.


    ¡°Maybe you can call Josh Wilson and ask him to host your party with you?¡± I called snidely over my shoulder.


    Dale snorted as he pushed me through the doors, and I didn¡¯t hear Holly reply, but I saw the hurt look in her eyes and the flash of her ponytail as she turned down the hallway.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t very nice,¡± Dale said when we were inside. ¡°It was downright catty.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I hissed.


    He smiled, amused. ¡°Are you jealous?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I denied it. ¡°I¡¯ve never liked her.¡±


    Dale just smiled.


    ¡°Oh Pete, now what are we¡ª¡±


    ¡°Carolyn, he¡¯s a liar! He had no right to fire me. Besides... he can¡¯t prove anything.¡±


    I turned my music off and sat quietly on my bed, listening.


    ¡°What are we going to do?¡± My mother again. ¡°We¡¯ve got rent to pay. We can¡¯t afford for you to lose your job!¡±


    ¡°Then you go out there and work, you stupid bitch! All you do is sit around on your ass all day while I go out and work for you and that brat of a daughter of yours! Go ahead, go find a job. You know you couldn¡¯t bring home half the money I make!¡± he roared.


    ¡°Made,¡± my mother corrected softly.


    I stared at my closed bedroom door, wide-eyed.


    No, Mom¡ªyou¡¯re going to get yourself hurt.


    Sure enough, a second later, I heard a sharp sound and my mother cried out.


    ¡°Bitch!¡± he snarled. ¡°I¡¯m taking him to court. I¡¯m fighting this. He can¡¯t prove I took anything from that warehouse and he knows it. I¡¯ll take him for all he¡¯s got, if there¡¯s any justice in this world!¡±


    I rolled my eyes, amazed. He stole the juice. The evidence was stacked up waist-high in the closet, yet here he was, self-righteous and hypocritical, demanding ¡°justice!¡± There was no logic to it¡ªunless you were him. It seemed to make perfect sense to the stepbeast.


    ¡°Pete, he¡¯s my brother,¡± my mother said softly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care if he¡¯s President of the United Fucking States!¡± he exploded. ¡°He ain¡¯t got no proof! He ain¡¯t got grounds to fire me! Fucking excuses, that¡¯s all he¡¯s got! There were never any complaints from customers! It¡¯s all bullshit!¡±


    I closed my eyes, so full of bitterness I could taste it, acrid and painful on my tongue, burning my throat. Justice? If there was any justice in the world, I knew I wouldn¡¯t be sitting there listening to him.


    I stood up, grabbing my winter coat from off the back of my desk chair, shrugging it on. It was time to make like Casper. Sometimes I wished I could disappear permanently. I slipped my boots on. They were the only boots I owned, suede, not waterproof, and they now had a hole in the bottom. My stepfather said he didn¡¯t have enough money for new ones. I¡¯d noticed he hadn¡¯t cut back on his cigarettes, but I had to go around with a hole in my boot in the middle of winter.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be crawling back to me, you watch!¡± The stepbeast yelled. ¡°He¡¯s going to beg me to come back! And you know what I¡¯m gonna say? Fuck you, buddy! Fuck you!¡±


    I stood, trembling, in the doorway, watching them. I could only see the top of my stepfather¡¯s head above the chair back. My mother was on the couch, legs curled under her, face streaked with mascara. A cigarette trembled between her fingertips.


    ¡°I swear, I¡¯ll sue him. I¡¯ll take him for everything he¡¯s got!¡±


    I came to stand beside his chair, stomach churning, hands clenched into tight fists, as much to keep them from trembling as anything else. My mother looked at me with wide, dark eyes, and I suddenly saw myself in those eyes and it tightened my chest. She looked old, haggard, and I felt so much pity for her. And hate for him. He made her this way, I thought. She could have been... alive.

 Page 26

    But I was done trying to wake her up, to make her see. To save her.


    The only person I could save was myself.Advertisement


    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± he demanded, glancing up at me. ¡°You better not be going out to see any boys, you little whore!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back later.¡± I walked toward the door, determined, ignoring his question and his snide remark.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere.¡±


    His words stopped my progress toward the door. I turned back as he lit a cigarette, watching me. He shook the match out and the motion recalled the memory of him hitting me¡ªhitting her¡ªand I flinched. I knew if I escaped, she¡¯d be the only one here for him to take it out on. I knew it¡ªand I was going to leave anyway.


    A sick rage heated my chest, spreading thickly.


    ¡°I¡¯m an adult. I¡¯ll do what I want. You don¡¯t own me.¡±


    I was suddenly, amazingly calm. It was as if everything in my body had gone still.


    ¡°What?¡± His my-ears-must-be-deceiving-me tone was almost comical. So was the expression his face.


    ¡°I¡¯m going. There¡¯s nothing you can do to stop me.¡±


    ¡°Wrong!¡± He stood, towering over me and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother shrink back against the sofa. ¡°I¡¯m your father! I make the money! I say what goes around here!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not my father.¡± I was trembling, a cold sweat running between my breasts toward my navel under the t-shirt I was wearing. But the words didn¡¯t stop. It wasn¡¯t that I couldn¡¯t stop the words¡ªit was the words themselves. They wouldn¡¯t stop. ¡°And you don¡¯t make the money around here anymore, do you? The world doesn¡¯t revolve around you, asshole! I¡¯m done letting you tell me what to do. Do you hear me? You can beat me, you can fuck me¡ªdo whatever you want¡ªbut the next time you touch me, you¡¯re going to have to kill me, because I¡¯m done!¡±


    I thought I might faint before I could turn the doorknob and escape, but I didn¡¯t. The shock must have stopped even him for the next thirty seconds or so, because I was crouched upstairs on the third floor, fetal and rocking just outside Dale¡¯s door, when I heard my father explode out of our apartment, tearing open the door to our building, screaming my name.


    I took the opportunity to knock on Dale¡¯s door, but I didn¡¯t have the strength to stand. My legs wouldn¡¯t hold me.


    Dale answered, wearing just a pair of boxers, hair tousled, eyes half-closed. He liked to sleep late on Saturdays.


    ¡°Sara?¡± He went from sleepy and yawning to alert in an instant, reaching down and picking me up like I weighed nothing, taking me inside and kicking the door shut behind him. The apartment was quiet.


    ¡°Is John still sleeping?¡± I whispered as Dale carried me down the hall to his bedroom.


    ¡°Not here,¡± he said shortly, kneeing open his bedroom door and kicking it closed, putting me down on the bed. I was still wearing my coat and boots and he took those off, wrapping me up in his arms and his comforter before asking me, ¡°What happened?¡±


    I opened my mouth to tell him, to explain what I¡¯d just done, unable to really comprehend the magnitude of it myself. The words had ebbed away.


    ¡°Are you okay? Sara? Look at me. Are you okay?¡± He searched my face, his simple concern, so genuine, starting my sobs, and he pulled me close with startled concern, trying desperately to comfort me. I clutched him, my flushed cheek resting against his bare shoulder.


    I told him about Pete getting fired, about his theft and lies, my voice hitching and low. I told him I¡¯d stood up to him and left. But what I didn¡¯t tell him weighed so much it was like an anvil on my chest, a pain no one could take away, not even Dale.


    Still he rocked me and he held me and he loved me.


    And it was almost enough.


    CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


    ¡°Sara, will you run back and grab a gallon of milk?¡± My mother stood next to her cart in the middle of Farmer Jack, looking down at her list.


    ¡°Sure.¡± I went back to get it. She was usually so worried and distracted, she always managed to forget something. When I returned, she was checking things off her list. I put the milk in the cart.


    ¡°Has your father said anything to you?¡± She moved up the aisle, pushing the cart.


    ¡°He¡¯s not my father,¡± I snapped. ¡°And no. Not a fucking word.¡±


    ¡°Nice language.¡± She frowned. ¡°He may not be your biological father, Sara, but he¡¯s the man who raised you.¡±


    I didn¡¯t say anything, helping her put cans of tomato soup into the cart. I tried to remember a time when the stepbeast had been human. Had he ever loved me? I didn¡¯t really believe it. I didn¡¯t even believe he loved my mother. I was pretty sure he wasn¡¯t capable of that emotion. He seemed driven by animal instincts alone¡ªhunger, sleep, self-preservation, mating. He truly was a beast.


    ¡°He¡¯s a good man, Sara.¡± She moved the cart up the next aisle. ¡°Underneath... you don¡¯t know him like I do.¡±


    I blinked at her. ¡°I don¡¯t think you know him like I do.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± She glanced over her shoulder at me, frowning.


    I shook my head. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s really very generous. He pays your insurance on your car every month. He didn¡¯t even want you to have that car, but he¡¯s willing to pay your insurance. He gives you spending money.¡±


    I snorted, rolling my eyes, but didn¡¯t reply.


    ¡°And he¡¯s very loyal. He stays with us. He takes care of us.¡±


    That was too much.


    ¡°Oh right,¡± I snorted. ¡°So loyal, he¡¯d steal from your own brother?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t steal.¡± She ticked things off her list as she moved up the aisle. ¡°Besides, my brother can¡¯t prove anything ¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± I nearly screamed. An old woman stocking up on pasta glared at us. ¡°My God, Mother, what are you, some sort of robot? He feeds in the information and you spit it right back out? What happened to your ability to think for yourself?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She blinked, looking at me doubtfully.


    ¡°Never mind, Mom.¡± I sighed, shaking my head. ¡°Just¡­ never mind.¡±


    At least the stepbeast had left me completely alone since I went off on him.


    The checkouts were packed with people. It was a Saturday afternoon and everybody was out shopping. We had to wait half an hour before we got up to the cashier. I began loading things up onto the conveyer belt. When I was through, I moved the cart to the end so the bagger could load it with groceries.


    ¡°That comes to ninety dollars and thirty-sex cents,¡± the cashier, a short blonde girl who snapped her gum and whose name tag read ¡®Tammi,¡¯ said impatiently. I thought I remembered her from high school. She¡¯d been a year behind us, which would make her a senior this year.


    ¡°Oh.¡± My mother sounded surprised and I looked over, seeing for the first time what she held in her hands. It was a book of food stamps. I¡¯d seen them often enough when we were on welfare, but it had been so long, it didn¡¯t register at first. My heart plummeted when I recognized the booklet and my mouth felt dry.


    ¡°I only have eighty dollars here,¡± my mother said quietly. ¡°Sara, hand me those packages of broccoli and corn. I have enough vegetables in the freezer to last me.¡±


    I got them just before the bagger did and I offered him a weak smile of apology. His name was Danny and he¡¯d been in my World Lit class my junior year. Tammi took them off the order.


    ¡°That¡¯ll be eighty-eight twenty-nine.¡± Tammi snapped her gum, looking impatiently at my mother. The people behind us were watching with disgusted interest.


    ¡°Sara, hand me the peanut butter and the coffee,¡± my mother said. This time Danny handed them to me personally. My throat felt tight. Tammi took those off the order. Her gum snapping was beginning to grind on my nerves.


    ¡°That¡¯s seventy-nine forty-nine,¡± she said impatiently. ¡°Come on, lady, we don¡¯t have all day. I have other paying customers waiting.¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± My mother, turning a paler shade of white, gave her the eighty-dollars in food stamps. I grabbed the cart and started out of the store. My cheeks felt as if they were on fire.


    ¡°There.¡± My mother caught up to me in the parking lot. ¡°That was taken care of easily enough.¡±


    I didn¡¯t say anything and kept on walking.


    John opened the door and I almost fell on top of him. I¡¯d been pounding on it for what felt like forever.


    ¡°Is Dale here?¡± I panted.


    ¡°He¡¯s in his room. Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m great!¡± I cried over my shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m fantastic!¡±


    He shut the door, calling after me, ¡°You staying for dinner? Fresh catfish!¡±


    ¡°Sounds great!¡± I called back, bursting through Dale¡¯s door.


    ¡°Hey!¡± He smiled when he saw me standing there.


    ¡°Dale!¡± I cried, throwing my arms wide, beaming. ¡°Guess what?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± He was sitting bare-chested on his bed, staring at me, guitar poised in mid-air, and normally I would have immediately jumped him just on principle, but I was too excited¡ªI could barely breathe.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to Maine!¡± I shook the envelope at him, in case he¡¯d missed it. ¡°I placed! I placed!¡±


    He set his guitar aside just in time, because I tackled him, kissing him hard, practically knocking us both off the bed.


    ¡°Congratulations.¡± He kissed the tip of my nose, smiling, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes¡ªthere was no dimple in it. ¡°So now what?¡±


    ¡°Look.¡± I handed him the letter and he sat on the edge of his bed with it.


    ¡°Dear Student,¡± Dale read softly. ¡°Congratulations, you have placed in the Maine Difference Creative Competition. You are invited to attend the Maine Difference Open House Program on April twenty-second to claim your prize and take a good look at our campus and the college way of life.¡±


    He paused and the piece of paper trembled slightly in his hands.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it great?¡± I cried. ¡°Placed. That means something. I might not get first¡ªthat¡¯s the full scholarship¡ªand second and third place are cash prizes. But at least I placed! I¡¯m going to Maine!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s terrific, Sara.¡± He handed the letter back to me. ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you.¡±


    He didn¡¯t look happy, and I knew why, and I couldn¡¯t blame him. I felt a lump in my throat, swallowing around it, wanting to tell him it was all going to be okay, but John interrupted us.


    ¡°They still doing that Maine Difference contest thing?¡± John asked from the doorway and I jumped, startled.


    ¡°Dad!¡± Dale frowned. ¡°How long have you been there?¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± John said sheepishly. ¡°I heard Maine and it drew my attention. I didn¡¯t know you wanted to go to the University of Maine, Sara. Which one?¡±


    ¡°Orono.¡±


    ¡°Great school.¡± He nodded. ¡°You planning on going into forestry?¡±

 Page 27

    ¡°No.¡± I looked down at Dale¡¯s bedspread.


    ¡°Engineering?¡±Advertisement


    ¡°She¡¯s going to major in art.¡± Dale looked at me. ¡°She¡¯s very talented.¡±


    ¡°Art?¡± John scratched his head. ¡°Why are you going to Maine to major in art? The New York Studio School is right¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long story,¡± Dale sighed. ¡°Just forget it, Dad.¡±


    John looked between the two of us, frowning. Now I felt like I owed him some sort of an explanation.


    ¡°Do you know who Tyler Vincent is?¡±


    John chuckled. ¡°Doesn¡¯t everyone?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ Tyler Vincent lives in Maine.¡±


    ¡°Yep, he does.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ if I go to college in Maine, I¡¯ll have a better chance of meeting him.¡±


    John stared at me for a moment. Then he laughed, long and loud. ¡°What a reason to pick a college!¡±


    I looked back down at the bedspread, hurt by his laughter. Dale didn¡¯t say a word.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a better chance of it in Maine than I do if I stay here,¡± I snapped, defensive.


    ¡°Here, now, don¡¯t go getting all ruffled up.¡± John smiled. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean an insult. Come on into the kitchen and we¡¯ll talk about this at dinner. Catfish is frying.¡±


    John waited. I finally got up and followed him. Dale trailed behind us. John piled our plates with catfish and potato salad, boasting that the catfish breading was a ¡°secret recipe¡± passed down through generations.


    ¡°Used to catch it ourselves, didn¡¯t we, son?¡±


    Dale just stared at his plate and shrugged one shoulder. John eyed him for a moment and then looked at me. I poked my fork around my own plate, trying to imagine Dale Diamond holding a fishing pole.


    ¡°Let me tell you something, Sara. I love Maine. I was born and bred there, and it¡¯s probably one of the most beautiful places on this earth.¡± John leaned back in his chair. ¡°There are a lot of good people in Maine. Mind you, they don¡¯t take too well to outsiders, but they get used to you. After a fashion.¡±


    He paused again and looked at Dale, who was picking onions out of his potato salad with his fork. ¡°You miss it, Dale?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Dale said, not looking up.


    ¡°Well his mother¡¯s there.¡± John frowned, looking back at me. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to laugh at your choice, Sara. University of Maine is an excellent school, but it doesn¡¯t necessarily mean it¡¯s a good school for you¡­ Understand?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I understood, all right. I understood plenty. He was going to tell me not to go, plain and simple. He was going to say it was ridiculous to pick a college for the reasons I had. But what he didn¡¯t understand and what Dale didn¡¯t understand, what even Aimee didn¡¯t understand, was this was my chance, my one chance, to get out of here for good.


    But I respected his opinion. I respected him. So I shut up and listened.


    ¡°It¡¯s a fine school, but sweetheart, you want to major in art. I¡¯m not saying they don¡¯t have a good art program. It¡¯s just fine, but it¡¯s not exactly prime rib for the price you¡¯d be paying per pound. It¡¯s more like¡­ round steak.¡±


    I laughed. He was always coming up with analogies like that.


    ¡°What if I decide to go into something else?¡± I shrugged. ¡°I know they have an excellent education department. What if I decide to teach art instead of becoming an actual artist?¡±


    ¡°An idea,¡± he conceded. ¡°But I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s a good one, because I¡¯m not you. Is teaching what you really want to do?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Dale said in a low voice. I looked at him sharply. He repeated it loudly. ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡±


    ¡°I can make up my own mind, thank you very much,¡± I snapped.


    ¡°Go ahead. Make up your own mind. Fuck up your life. Why should I care?¡±


    Dale stood and John and I stared at him, both of our jaws dropping.


    I¡¯d seen Dale angry before, but not like this. He was like a hot, simmering volcano ready to blow, just barely contained, trembling with fury, shaking with it.


    ¡°You want to throw your talent away on a bunch of little kids?¡±


    I closed my mouth, glaring at him. ¡°You don¡¯t get to tell me what to do.¡±


    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?¡± he cried, throwing up his hands. ¡°You think I haven¡¯t lived with the knowledge that your one goal in life is to leave me? I live it every single day, every single minute! And you know what? I love you anyway.¡±


    I tried to speak, but no words would come. Besides, Dale wasn¡¯t done.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re scared. I know you¡¯re hiding and you¡¯re running and you don¡¯t want to look around and see what¡¯s right in front of you because it hurts too much. No one in your life really exists because you¡¯re living in some fantasy where you¡¯ll meet Tyler Vincent and he¡¯s going to be your knight in shining armor come to rescue you from your miserable life. He¡¯s going to have some magical cure for all your problems. He¡¯ll say a few words and ¡®presto!¡¯ You¡¯ll be happy!¡±


    ¡°Dale, no¡­¡± I whispered, but my words were drowned out by his.


    ¡°I know how much you hurt. I know how afraid and lost and alone you feel, even when you¡¯re in my arms. Sara, I know.¡±


    I blinked back tears, trying to hold them in, shaking my head to deny it, but it was true. It was all true. He did know, had always known, had been able to see through me and into me from the moment he walked into Mr. Woodall¡¯s class and sat down beside me. I didn¡¯t know how he could see so much, but he did.


    I¡¯d always been naked in front of him.


    John opened his mouth once or twice, but obviously changed his mind. All the life and meaning and emotion had been sucked up into Dale¡¯s eyes¡ªthey were blazing.


    ¡°You¡¯re so selfish,¡± he whispered, chin trembling, lip quivering. I felt tears running down my cheeks. I couldn¡¯t hold them back anymore. ¡°Why are you like that? The world doesn¡¯t revolve around you, Sara. I¡¯ve been here for you. I¡¯ve listened to you. I¡¯ve tried to help you. And you just throw it back in my face. Girl¡­ he doesn¡¯t even know you¡¯re alive. I¡¯m the one who¡¯s here for you. Me!¡±


    His eyes were bright, too bright¡ªwith tears¡ªbut they didn¡¯t fall.


    The world doesn¡¯t revolve around you.


    That¡¯s what I¡¯d said to the stepbeast before I walked out.


    I¡¯m not like him. I¡¯m not.


    ¡°What about me?¡± Dale took a deep breath. ¡°What about me, Sara?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­¡± I swallowed, wiping the tears from my face. ¡°Dale, please. I came here first thing to tell you, to share it with you. Can¡¯t you be happy for me?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± He shook his head, lowering it, so I couldn¡¯t see his eyes. ¡°But you didn¡¯t come here for me. That was for you, Sara, not me. You wanted someone to cheer with you. And I did.¡±


    He was right. In spite of his fear of losing me, in spite of his jealousy and possessiveness and desire to hold and keep me, he had loved me enough to congratulate me, to even tell me he was proud of me.


    ¡°Did you forget you have a prior commitment on April twenty-second?¡±


    I stared at him, shaking my head, confused.


    And then I understood.


    The Battle of the Bands. The finals. That was April twenty-second.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t stay for me, would you?¡±


    ¡°Dale¡­¡± My throat hurt from trying to hold back my tears, but they were falling anyway, all over my soggy catfish. John handed me a napkin and I took it. I¡¯d forgotten he was even there. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±


    It was all I could think of to say.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought.¡± Dale leaned on the table, meeting my eyes, locking my gaze, not letting me look away. ¡°You think he¡¯s perfect and he¡¯s safe and, in your head, he can do anything.¡±


    My whole body was trembling, aching. I wanted him so much. I just wanted to run to him and put my arms around him and tell him I was sorry, that I wouldn¡¯t go, I would stay with him. That I loved him. I knew I loved him and only him.


    But I didn¡¯t know what kept me glued to my chair, shaking and mute and miserable.


    ¡°But he can¡¯t save you, Sara.¡± Dale choked. ¡°And I can¡¯t save you either.¡±


    I can only save myself.


    That voice in my head was firm and it steeled my spine. I wiped my tears with the napkin John had given me, my gaze never leaving Dale¡¯s face.


    His eyes were full of so much pain, it was hard to not look away, but I didn¡¯t. I told myself I had to do this. It was my one, my only chance.


    Dale cocked his head, his voice soft but clear. ¡°He¡¯s safe and perfect and a million miles away. I¡¯m here¡­ and I¡¯m broken. But I¡¯m real and I love you.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t until he turned away that I stood, reaching for him across the table, sobs wracking my body. I couldn¡¯t hold them in anymore.


    ¡°Dale, wait! Don¡¯t! I luh¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± He turned back, glaring at me, jaw set. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare say that to me now. It¡¯s too late for that.¡±


    Dale strode down the hall to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.


    CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


    It was so quiet, it was deafening. I looked over at John, feeling self-conscious and uneasy about what he¡¯d heard.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I looked down at the now cold catfish on my plate, the yellow placemat beneath, anything but his face.


    ¡°I know.¡± His voice was full of sympathy. ¡°But I don¡¯t think it¡¯s me who needs to hear it.¡±


    I looked at him then, into the familiar dark eyes under bushy gray eyebrows. His kindness radiated in waves. My throat felt choked, thinking of Dale¡¯s accusations. Everything seemed to be melding together, everything I¡¯d kept inside. All of my emotions burst and I sobbed. I covered my face with my hands, ashamed, but unable to stop the flow of tears. It felt as if someone was wringing my heart out.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay to hurt.¡± He¡¯d come to stand beside me, touching my hair, and his voice, so acutely perceptive and compassionate, made my heart ache. Just like Dale. So much like Dale. I looked up at him.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay¡­¡± he said again, his palm gently cupping my chin. ¡°Everybody hurts. You don¡¯t need to hide it.¡±


    He held his arms out and I went to him, really sobbing now. His arms were strong and reassuring. He smelled faintly of Old Spice. It was a comforting scent. He supported me, easily. I had never let anyone but Dale this close to seeing what was inside. He held me tightly.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it,¡± I managed to say into his shirt. It was white cotton, button-down, soft against my cheek. ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Most hurting is unintentional, hon.¡± He stroked my hair. ¡°That¡¯s just life.¡±


    From Dale¡¯s room I heard the beginning chords of Ozzy¡¯s Crazy Train on his guitar. It helped slip the real world back into focus, tapering my tears.

 Page 28

    ¡°Here.¡± John offered me another napkin from the holder on the table. ¡°Sorry I don¡¯t have any Kleenex handy.¡±


    I took it from him, wiping my eyes, black streaking across the napkin. Mascara.Advertisement


    ¡°I must look awful.¡± I sniffed, stepping out of the circle of his arms.


    John smiled. ¡°You feel like talking about it?¡±


    ¡°I...¡± I hesitated.


    I wanted to go to Dale. Everything in me ached for him, but something wouldn¡¯t let me.


    He was right, had been right about everything.


    I was so ashamed, so horribly ashamed.


    But still, I couldn¡¯t swallow my pride and walk down the hall and apologize. I knew it wouldn¡¯t mean anything, not now. I¡¯d already made my choice¡ªand I¡¯d chosen Tyler Vincent.


    ¡°Sorry about dinner,¡± I apologized. ¡°I guess I kind of ruined it.¡±


    ¡°Come on, come sit.¡± John went to the living room and I followed. He sat in a chair, and I sat on the edge of the loveseat. ¡°We won¡¯t talk about what Dale said if you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    ¡°You think he¡¯s right, don¡¯t you?¡± I asked, not looking up.


    ¡°Well what I think isn¡¯t very important. The question is, what do you think?¡±


    ¡°He...¡± I shrugged, looking down at the balled-up napkin in my hand. ¡°He¡¯s right. I¡¯m wrong. And I¡¯m sorry¡­ but that doesn¡¯t change how I feel.¡±


    ¡°How do you feel?¡±


    I lowered my head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Confused, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Nothing wrong with that.¡±


    The silence stretched and I heard Dale playing louder, the amp turned all the way up. It shook the floor and I¡¯m sure the downstairs neighbors didn¡¯t appreciate it.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been planning this for so long.¡± I swallowed, unballing the napkin and spreading it out on my leg, not wanting to look at him. ¡°I was supposed to enter last year, but then¡­ stuff happened, and I didn¡¯t graduate.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    I shook my head, not wanting to think about it or remember. ¡°I can¡¯t go back and change anything. I can only go forward. Maine¡­ and Tyler¡­ has always been my way forward.¡±


    ¡°What are you running from?¡± John asked.


    ¡°Nothing. Everything.¡± I sniffed. ¡°I guess it¡¯s more about what I¡¯m running to.¡±


    ¡°Tyler Vincent?¡± John shook his salt-and-peppered head, a bemused smile on his face. ¡°What do you think is going to happen? Are you planning to follow his tour bus? Be a groupie?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I scoffed at the idea. ¡°Of course not. If I wanted to be a groupie, I could have done that already.¡±


    ¡°So what then?¡±


    ¡°Living in Maine¡­ I¡¯ll be close to him. It¡¯s still his home town. I¡¯m sure, if he met me¡­ we could¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ be friends.¡±


    Even I knew how ridiculous it sounded. I rolled the edge of napkin, a nervous habit like chewing my nails or licking my lower lip.


    ¡°You know, when he was teaching music at the University of Maine back in, oh, I think it was in 1967¡ª¡±


    ¡°It was 1966,¡± I corrected.


    John looked at me, startled.


    ¡°I read a lot about him,¡± I replied sheepishly.


    John went on. ¡°I think you¡¯re right, because Dale was born in 1967. He started teaching the year after I did. We were some of the youngest folks on staff, so it was just natural we became fast friends. Back then, if he¡¯d met someone like you, he probably would have been thrilled. Now though? Tyler Vincent isn¡¯t a person anymore. It¡¯s a brand. A household word. Even if you¡¯ve never picked up one of his CDs or seen a movie. Everyone knows who he is. And people change. Fame changes almost everybody. He¡¯s not the same person he was back in ¡¯66... but I suppose none of us are.¡±


    I had forgotten how to breathe, my mouth dry, so dry it felt filled with cotton.


    ¡°You know him.¡± At first it wasn¡¯t audible, just a quiet hiss, like a leaking balloon.


    ¡°You know him,¡± I repeated, just a bare whisper. ¡°You know him.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He frowned, cocking his head at me, the same thing I¡¯d seen Dale do a hundred times. ¡°I thought you knew?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡± I put my head in my heads, closing my eyes. It wasn¡¯t real. I was dreaming. This couldn¡¯t be real.


    ¡°How else do you think Dale could get you front row tickets?¡±


    ¡°I thought he knew someone¡­¡± I looked up at him, shaking my head in disbelief. ¡°At Ticketmaster¡­ or¡­¡±


    You must know someone.


    That¡¯s what I¡¯d said.


    Yeah, I know someone.


    He had known someone all right. Only Tyler Vincent himself!


    ¡°Well¡­¡± John sat back, tenting his fingers. ¡°The plot thickens¡­¡±


    ¡°Tell me.¡± My voice was hoarse. ¡°How did you meet?¡±


    ¡°Teaching, of course. We got along well, and his wife and mine became fast friends.¡± John had a faraway, nostalgic look in his eyes. ¡°But Tyler¡ªhis name isn¡¯t really Tyler, you know. It¡¯s Dennis. Dennis something¡­ I can¡¯t remember anymore. Tyler Vincent is a stage name. But he always wanted to be famous, even then.¡±


    ¡°How long did you know him?¡±


    ¡°As long as I lived in Maine.¡± John¡¯s expression changed, his brow knitted. ¡°We moved to Seattle¡ªI got another teaching position¡ªabout four years ago I guess.¡±


    ¡°So you kept in touch?¡±


    ¡°Still do. When my wife and I were still married, he¡¯d invite the four of us out to his summer home for a week or two.¡±


    ¡°Four of you?¡± I asked, puzzled.


    ¡°Myself, my wife, Dale and Chrissy,¡± he explained. It still didn¡¯t clear things up and it must have been apparent by my expression. ¡°Chrissy is my daughter. She¡¯s living with her mother back in Maine.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Now I felt really stupid. Dale had a sister?


    How much had he kept from me? How much had I not listened to? Or even asked?


    I felt something heavy churning in my stomach.


    ¡°Once Stacy and I split... well, it got a little messy. Tyler and I would just talk over a few beers on his front porch or mine,¡± John went on. I smiled. His words conjured up sweet images. ¡°I don¡¯t think Karen approved of the divorce¡ªKaren is Tyler¡¯s wife¡ªespecially the way the kids were split up. I also think I reminded her that her own marriage might not be infallible, and that reminder was a little too close to home.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you know him,¡± I said incredulously. It amused me John had told me Karen was Tyler¡¯s wife, as if I needed telling. I read everything about him.


    ¡°Best friends,¡± John replied. ¡°Over twenty years now.¡±


    Suddenly something clicked in my head, and as much as I wanted to deny it, I knew it was the absolute truth. Tyler Vincent had been ¡°the best friend¡± Dale had told me about¡ªthe one his mother was having an affair with for years. There was just too much evidence pointing in that direction¡ªit had to be true. And the man in front of me still didn¡¯t have any idea.


    ¡°Do you still keep in touch, now that you¡¯re teaching at Rutgers?¡±


    ¡°We exchanged addresses, but he¡¯s not much of a letter writer. Too busy, I suppose. Me, I¡¯m not busy. I have Dale, and teaching, and you, and that¡¯s about the extent of it. He¡¯s written once or twice, plus a Christmas card. We talk occasionally. I asked him to get you those tickets you wanted, and he was happy to oblige.¡±


    I stared at him, incredulous. Dale had asked his father, and of course, John had just called up his old friend, Tyler Vincent, and asked him for front row seats to their home town show.


    And Dale had never said a word to me.


    Why?


    Of course, I knew. Even if I didn¡¯t have Tyler Vincent plastered all over my walls, he might not have told me. Because Tyler Vincent was the man who had torn apart Dale¡¯s family. Tyler Vincent was responsible for his parents¡¯ divorce¡ªeven the separation from a sister I never even knew existed until today.


    It can¡¯t be true.


    I didn¡¯t want to believe it. I didn¡¯t want to think for a minute that Tyler Vincent would ever do anything to hurt this sweet, kind man sitting in front of me. He would never hurt anyone. I couldn¡¯t believe it, even if, in my heart, I knew it was the truth.


    ¡°I guess you and Dale have a lot to talk about.¡±


    ¡°If he¡¯ll talk to me at all.¡± I glanced toward his bedroom. I wouldn¡¯t know how to even begin, knowing now what I did. ¡°When was the last time you talked to him?¡±


    ¡°Tyler?¡± John got up, going over and taking an envelope from the letter box in the kitchen. ¡°This is the last letter I got from him. But if I let you read it, you have to promise to keep it a secret. Okay?¡±


    I nodded, eager. I would have promised my firstborn child to Rumpelstiltskin for a chance to read that letter!


    My hands trembled as I opened it. It was hard to believe it was happening. Someone close to me was close to Tyler Vincent. It made me shiver. I didn¡¯t believe in fate, but this was the closest coincidence had ever come, as far as I could tell.


    Aimee would say it was fate. Maybe it was after all.


    I read:


    John,


    Hey there! Is it as cold there as it is here? The big ten degrees. How are you and Dale getting on? Karen said she saw Stacy in the supermarket in Brewer last week. Have you heard from her at all? I guess Chrissy asked about you. Well, enough gossip. All the kids say hi, and they miss you. Chloe told me to tell you to come visit soon. It¡¯s not the same here without you, John-O.


    I¡¯m busy writing, working on my next project. This one¡¯s different. An entirely new direction for me. But shhh. If I tell them I¡¯m done with the pop stuff and moving on to really playing the blues? Can you imagine the fans reaction? The label knows, of course. (It was their idea about the hush-hush business. I humor them.) I¡¯m telling you, John, I worry about it sometimes. One of these days the creative juices will just dry up. I¡¯m going to burn out and fade away. Won¡¯t my fans have a cow, (as Ian says) I think my agent will probably, as my daughter is so fond of saying, ¡°throw a spaz.¡± His ten percent just keeps on growing.


    Just like this album keeps on growing. I think I¡¯m halfway through, anyway, although it¡¯s hard to tell with me. I have a serious problem with ¡°keeping it short.¡±


    Unfortunately, I do have to keep this short. I promised Michael I¡¯d help him fix his ten-speed, although I have no idea how he thinks he¡¯s going to ride it in two feet of snow. There¡¯s Ian, knocking on my door and yelling, ¡°Dad! Hurry up! Mom says we can¡¯t eat until you come and I¡¯m starved!¡± I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to waste away, but I better go before they decide to lynch me. Until I see you, stay happy.


    Tyler


    I handed it back to him without a word. He replaced it in the letter box.


    ¡°You know,¡± I said softly as he sat back down in his chair. ¡°Before right now, I was sure Maine was exactly where I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I wanted to...¡± I hesitated, groping for the words that would encompass the feeling. ¡°I wanted to settle there.¡± It was the closest I could come to how I felt.

 Page 29

    ¡°And now?¡± John asked when I didn¡¯t go on.


    I shook my head.Advertisement


    Dale had told me I was putting all the wrong pieces together when it came to Tyler and he¡¯d known exactly what he was talking about, of course.


    But he¡¯d been willing to let me find out on my own. He¡¯d never once told me not to enter the contest, not to go to Maine.


    It was all too much to take in at once. My brain was on overload.


    But it was my heart, still beating in my chest like a steady drum, that knew the truth. It didn¡¯t matter where I settled¡ªif Dale wasn¡¯t there, I wouldn¡¯t be happy. I wouldn¡¯t ever be happy without him.


    Dale appeared at the end of the hallway.


    I jumped up, ready to tell him so, ready to give it all up for him¡ªbecause without him, there was nothing.


    Then I saw he had his coat and his shoes on.


    And he looked furious.


    ¡°I¡¯m going out,¡± he said coldly, not even glancing at me. ¡°I¡¯ll be back before midnight.¡±


    He headed for the door and I watched him, my heart sinking.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± John called.


    Dale hesitated, hand on the doorknob.


    He glanced back, looking straight at me. ¡°I¡¯m going to spend some time with someone who appreciates me. If you want me, call Holly Larson¡¯s. She¡¯s listed in the phone book.¡±


    The door clicked shut softly behind him and my heart stopped in my chest.


    He¡¯d just taken it with him, right out the front door.


    CHAPTER NINETEEN


    We met up at the hospital three days later.


    ¡°Who called you?¡± I asked, seeing Dale talking to a nurse at the desk as I was coming out of Aimee¡¯s room. Matt and her mother were still in there, but I couldn¡¯t stand it, not for another minute. I couldn¡¯t stand myself¡ªfor not seeing, not saying something, not paying enough attention.


    Again.


    Selfish.


    Dale had been right about me.


    ¡°Sara?¡± He grabbed me by the upper arms, pulling me aside, looking me up and down like he thought I might be hurt. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I asked, realizing he obviously didn¡¯t know about Aimee.


    ¡°My dad was in an accident.¡±


    My hand flew to my mouth. ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± Dale insisted, shaking his head. ¡°Whiplash. They¡¯re keeping him overnight for observation.¡±


    ¡°Thank God. Can I see him?¡±


    Dale nodded, but neither of us moved. His face and eyes softened as he looked at me and I wanted to put my arms around him and kiss him and tell him I loved him and how sorry I was about everything, but I couldn¡¯t, not there in the middle of the hospital.


    ¡°Sara¡­¡± he started, his thumbs moving on my upper arms, hands still holding onto me, not wanting to let me go. Then he seemed to remember. ¡°Wait¡­ what are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Aimee¡¯s here¡­¡± I pointed to the room I¡¯d just come out of. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ oh Dale, she¡¯s sick again. I¡¯m not sure if she ever really got better¡­¡±


    And what are the odds of that? That¡¯s what the Aimee in my head said in regards to she and John just happening to end up in the same hospital on the same floor at the same time¡ªthe Aimee in my head nudging me and talking about fate and destiny and people who were meant to be together.


    ¡°Oh no.¡± Then Dale did put his arms around me, pulling my head to his chest, and I closed my eyes, letting myself be held by him. It felt so good, like coming home. ¡°Why can¡¯t the universe just give you a break?¡±


    I sniffed and half-laughed at his comment. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure this isn¡¯t about me.¡±


    ¡°Is she going to be okay? Should I go in?¡± He nodded toward Aimee¡¯s closed hospital room door.


    ¡°No, there¡¯s a counselor in there.¡± That¡¯s why I¡¯d left, because the social worker wanted some time alone with ¡®the family¡¯¡ªwhich now included Matt, but not me. So strange. But it was Matt who had noticed this time, not me, and maybe that was the way it should be. ¡°She¡¯s dehydrated¡ªit was laxatives this time. Not as bad as before. Her weight is down, but they caught it, thanks to Matt. They¡¯re talking about more therapy. I don¡¯t know what will work.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes there¡¯s no cure for the crazy.¡± Dale sighed, stroking my hair. ¡°I think we all just have to keep loving through it. Maybe that¡¯s the cure.¡±


    ¡°Love?¡± I smiled, rubbing my cheek against his t-shirt and the strong, solid chest underneath, his heart beating that beautiful, steady rhythm I had come to crave.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be great if love was the cure for everything?¡± He tilted my chin up, searching my eyes. ¡°Come on, my dad will want to see you.¡±


    ¡°Sara!¡± John¡¯s eyes brightened behind the bandages when we walked into the room.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I went over to kiss him gently on the cheek. He had several cuts and bruises they¡¯d bandaged up and a neck brace on.


    ¡°It looks far worse than it really is,¡± he assured me. ¡°The other guy rear-ended me but he got away without a scratch. So I take it you two have made up?¡±


    John looked hopefully between us but I just shrugged, glancing over at Dale. He had his arms crossed over his chest, a disapproving look on his face, but I thought that might have more to do with John being in a hospital bed than the fight we¡¯d had the other day.


    ¡°I just wanted to bring her in to see you before I headed back home,¡± Dale told him.


    I frowned. ¡°How are you getting home?¡±


    ¡°The bus.¡± Dale looked pointedly at John. ¡°Since the car¡¯s in the shop for a while.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll drive you,¡± I offered.


    Dale hesitated, looking between me and his father.


    ¡°You know what?¡± John put a hand to his head. ¡°Why don¡¯t you two go on? I¡¯m feeling a little tired.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Dad.¡± Dale said goodbyes to his father and went to the door, holding it open and waiting for me.


    I bent down to kiss John¡¯s cheek again and he whispered, ¡°How¡¯d I do?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re like an old Jewish matchmaker,¡± I whispered back. ¡°Except you¡¯re not old. Or Jewish.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d argue with you about the old part.¡± He grinned. ¡°I feel ninety right about now.¡±


    I made a face at him. ¡°Feel better, old man.¡±


    ¡°I do already.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the ride.¡± Dale turned to me in the darkness as I turned off the car, and there we were like we¡¯d been so many times before, face to face in my front seat, the tension between us palpable.


    ¡°Dale¡­¡± How did I say I was sorry for¡­ everything? Everything except loving him. And I couldn¡¯t seem to say that either, even if it was all my heart would feel, in spite of my head¡¯s staunch objections.


    He started, somehow knowing I couldn¡¯t. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I lied to you.¡±


    ¡°About Tyler?¡± It so didn¡¯t matter to me anymore, but of course he didn¡¯t know that.


    ¡°It was wrong. I should have told you. I just¡­¡± His head lowered, voice trailing off, and of course I knew why he hadn¡¯t told me. He already doubted how much I cared about him, given my level of crazy about Tyler Vincent. How could he know it was Dale I stuck around for, and not the front row seats?


    But the concert was over, and I was still here, loving him.


    ¡°No.¡± I touched his cheek, brushing my fingers over the stubble there, and when he looked up at me, he broke my heart. The question was there in his eyes, the one he tried so hard to hide. ¡°I was stupid. I¡¯ve been so stupid.¡±


    He slid closer, taking me into his arms, giving me the reassurance he was looking for, as if by opening up to me, I might do the same with him. ¡°I didn¡¯t go to Holly Larson¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t?¡± My heart swelled to bursting. Somehow the thought of him spending a night with Holly Larson had been far worse than his sin of omission about Tyler Vincent.


    ¡°No.¡± He lowered his head to mine, kissing the top of my head again and again. ¡°When are you going to realize there¡¯s no one else for me? You¡¯re it, baby.¡±


    ¡°Me too, Dale,¡± I whispered. It was the closest I could come in the moment.


    He chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re forgetting Tyler.¡±


    ¡°No I¡¯m not.¡± I lifted my head to meet his eyes, shining in the darkness.


    ¡°Wait¡­ what are you saying?¡± Dale frowned, and I couldn¡¯t resist, reaching out to touch that delicious dent in his chin. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to give up your dream for me.¡±


    ¡°What if you¡¯re my dream?¡± I whispered, tracing the line of his jaw, trailing my finger down over his Adam¡¯s apple as he swallowed. ¡°You¡¯re good at being a rock star. I¡¯m good at being the world¡¯s biggest fan. It¡¯s a match made in heaven.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to be my fan,¡± he said hoarsely. ¡°I want you to be mine.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± I moved my hand up under his shirt, seeking the heat of his skin, wanting to feel him, solid and warm. ¡°I¡¯m the luckiest girl in the world. Why? Because you chose me. Out of all those girls who want you¡ªout of all the millions who will want you, and believe me, they will¡ªI¡¯m the one you chose.¡±


    He kissed me¡ªthe soft press of his lips, the way he breathed me in as if I was honeysuckle or lilacs or roses, the most compelling scent in the world¡ªreminding me in an instant of his love for me, how much I had missed him and how much I was missing when he was gone.


    ¡°Sara, listen to me.¡± He pressed his forehead to mine, eyes closed. ¡°Once I choose a direction, I don¡¯t stop. I can¡¯t.¡±


    I nodded, loving him for it. I¡¯d seen it every day in the way he pursued his music, how much of his time he dedicated to practice, to perfecting his craft.


    ¡°I¡¯m like a damned freight train. Or the fucking Titanic.¡± He snorted, opening his eyes and meeting my gaze. ¡°There¡¯s no turning me away, not now. I can¡¯t turn back.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°No.¡± He pursed his lips, shaking his head, looking away from me, out the window at the shadow of someone going into the apartment building. ¡°I don¡¯t think you do. You seem to have room in your heart for more than just me. But I don¡¯t. For me, there is only you. Only you.¡±


    ¡°Dale, no,¡± I protested. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. It¡¯s not like that for me either.¡±


    ¡°Shhhh.¡± He pressed his fingers to my lips. ¡°I know you. Inside and out, Sara. I know you, and I¡¯ve accepted it all. Every bit of the crazy. And I love you anyway remember?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t about you.¡± He touched the locket hanging around my neck, a constant. ¡°It¡¯s about me. You need to know this. I will never, ever have room in my heart for more than one woman. I used Holly to hurt you, because it was the worst thing I could think of. It was wrong and I¡¯m sorry.¡±

 Page 30

    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°You need to know what it means when I choose you, Sara.¡± He turned my locket over in his hands, flipping it open, his eyes sad as he looked inside. ¡°I won¡¯t ever do to you what this man did to his family¡ªto mine.¡±Advertisement


    ¡°It was Tyler?¡± I whispered. Of course I¡¯d known. I¡¯d hoped maybe I was guessing wrong, jumping to conclusions. I¡¯d spent three days staring at the man who papered my walls, realizing Dale had been trying to tell me something when he told me I was filling in all the wrong pieces to the puzzle. I had created the image of the man I wanted.


    And then that image had walked into my life as if out of a dream.


    Dale was the man I needed in my life, not a fantasy, but a real, warm, flesh and blood human being. Not Tyler Vincent, the man I had fabricated, just as two-dimensional as the paper he was printed on.


    ¡°Yeah, it was him,¡± Dale confirmed, snapping my locket closed.


    Dale had known all along what Tyler really was, and he hadn¡¯t told me. It was a sin of omission, but I couldn¡¯t fault him for it. It had been a selfless act. He hadn¡¯t wanted to spoil my image of him. He let me hold onto the dream instead of waking me with the truth. He had loved me through it, all the shamefully crazy hopes and fantasies I¡¯d pinned on a man I had never even met, all the while hesitating before a man who knelt before me with his heart in his hands, offering himself fully to me, knowing I could step on it and crush his hopes at any moment.


    ¡°Dale, I¡¯m not going to Maine.¡±


    His gaze lifted, meeting mine, his look so hopeful and open and raw, my heart shattered into a million pieces, knowing how much I had hurt him already. There were no words that could ever make up for it. I could only hope my actions could speak loud enough.


    He kissed me, making a small, pained noise in his throat, his mouth opening mine, his tongue seeking entrance, and I let him in, as fully and completely as I could, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my body to his.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go upstairs,¡± I whispered when we parted.


    We had the whole apartment to ourselves and still we ended up in Dale¡¯s bed, the place we¡¯d spent hours whispering and laughing and kissing.


    And kissing.


    And kissing.


    Tonight there was no hesitation. We fell into each other¡¯s arms and kissed like we were coming up for air after being underwater for days. The melding of our mouths was sweeter than oxygen. We took huge, deep gulps of each other as we struggled with worldly constraints like clothing and gravity, seeking to transcend it all in our coming together.


    ¡°No, no,¡± I whispered when I was naked beneath him, his mouth beginning its delicious travel south. I stopped him at my collarbone. I didn¡¯t want any of that. I just wanted him, inside of me. Now.


    He lifted his head, the sight of his dark, disheveled hair, eyes glinting with longing in the lamp light, the gorgeous spread of his shoulders, tapering down to the narrow thrust of his hips, made my ovaries ache deep in my belly.


    ¡°Inside me,¡± I whispered, cupping his face in my hands, sliding them behind his neck and pulling his head to my breasts. ¡°Dale, please.¡±


    He didn¡¯t deny me. We were both ready when he entered me just a moment later, poised above me, eyes locked. His breath exhaled sweetly over my face and I ran my hands up the muscled terrain of his arms, his shoulders, across his back, so in love with him I couldn¡¯t contain it, as if my hands could tell him without words how much I wanted him, needed him, craved him.


    Dale bent his head, eyes closing for a moment, then opening again, looking down at where he was buried deep inside of me. The thick, aching throb of him, filling every bit of available space, my thighs open to him, everything open to him, reminding me with every sweet pulsing drumbeat of his heart, beating with mine, as close to me as my own.


    ¡°Come here.¡± I slid my hands behind his neck, pulling his mouth down for a kiss that wasn¡¯t a kiss at all. It was like completing a circuit, our bodies electrified in an instant. Sparks flew the moment our tongues touched, as if we had caught a livewire between us. Dale moaned into my mouth, beginning to move inside of me, my flesh opening more and more to him with every sweet thrust.


    ¡°Oh Dale,¡± I murmured against his lips, squeezing him tight between my thighs, my legs locked around his waist. I had to tell him. He had to know what he meant to me, what I felt. His cock throbbed when my lips touched his, swelling when my tongue slipped into his mouth. I gasped as he moved faster, deeper, his tongue thrusting with the same smooth, rhythmic motion, and I lost myself in the connection, an endless loop, a delicious, rising spiral.


    And there just weren¡¯t words anymore. They didn¡¯t fail me, they just didn¡¯t exist on the plane of existence we had driven ourselves into, clutching and gasping and moving with the gentle purpose of the tide. The world had disappeared. There was only us, the slick circle of our bodies moving together, both of us crying out, mouths mirroring the sweet, dizzying friction between our legs.


    More, more, more. I begged him silently, rocking up to meet him, holding him in the cradle of my limbs, wrapped tightly around him, as if my world might slip away if I let go. My sex clamped down around his shaft as the first spasm of my climax washed over me. I cried out, nails raking the skin of his shoulders, heels digging into the small of his back, feeling Dale¡¯s sharp intake of breath as he came too, like the sudden flash of a distant star.


    We were a galaxy exploding into a million pieces, creating a whole new world, as we crashed against each other on the soft surface of his mattress, a cloud in the darkness, our bodies finally falling together like rain. Dale lowered his head to my chest, letting me cradle his head against my breast, our hearts still racing, off somewhere together without us.


    I held him and he held me, words unnecessary, our hearts way ahead of us. They always had been, from the very beginning. We couldn¡¯t do anything but hang on and hope to catch up.


    CHAPTER TWENTY


    ¡°Are you sure your parents aren¡¯t coming home?¡± Dale followed me into the apartment as I shut the door behind me.


    ¡°I told you, they went to upstate New York to visit my stepfather¡¯s family. Something about borrowing money. That¡¯s two hours away, so we have the place to ourselves for a while. Do you want anything to drink?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± He followed me into the little kitchen, sitting on the chair next to the closet.


    ¡°We have water, milk, a half a Pepsi.¡± I frowned, eyeing the sparse fridge contents. ¡°Or we have my father¡¯s stash.¡±


    ¡°Liquor?¡± Dale raised his eyebrows.


    ¡°Nope.¡± I opened the closet door and Dale let out a low whistle. ¡°Juice. Orange, grapefruit, apple, you name it. This is what he used to deliver, before he got fired.¡±


    ¡°He got a discount on it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said bitterly. ¡°The five-fingered kind. That¡¯s why they fired him.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Right.¡±


    ¡°So, what¡¯s your poison?¡± I waved my hand toward the boxes stacked five high, four across and three deep.


    ¡°Apple¡¯s up top. Let¡¯s split one.¡±


    I pulled out a bottle and got two glasses and some ice, carrying them toward my room.


    ¡°Are you excited?¡± I asked as I opened my bedroom door.


    ¡°I really finally get to see it today?¡± Dale nodded toward the veiled canvas on my easel.


    ¡°Today¡¯s the day,¡± I agreed, setting down our drinks. ¡°You ready?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve never had anyone do a painting of me. It¡¯s kind of weird,¡± he said, trying to peek under the cover.


    I slapped at his hand.


    ¡°Not yet!¡± I pushed him down on the bed. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. When I¡¯m ready.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve only kept me in suspense forever,¡± he groaned, laying back and pulling me with him. He tried to kiss me but I wouldn¡¯t let him.


    ¡°Okay.¡± I got up. ¡°If you really want to see it, let¡¯s do it.¡±


    I went to the canvas and pulled off the sheet. Dale blinked, staring quietly, studying it carefully. I waited, chewing on my nail until I couldn¡¯t stand it anymore.


    ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°Well...¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly what I was expecting.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I threw up my hands. ¡°But I was experimenting. Every time I tried to put you down in portrait form I couldn¡¯t do it.¡±


    He studied it, frowning, speechless. It made me nervous.


    ¡°This,¡± I nodded toward the abstract. ¡°This is really you.¡±


    ¡°Here...¡± He pointed as he spoke. ¡°This is my music, right?¡±


    He touched the misshapen music note.


    ¡°Is this my father?¡± He pointed to a shadowy figure. I nodded.


    ¡°Everything is here. Even you, over here in the corner right?¡±


    I nodded again.


    ¡°Why in the corner?¡±


    I shrugged.


    He pulled me back onto the bed, tucking me easily beneath him. ¡°You should be right in the middle.¡± He kissed my forehead, pressing my hand over his heart. ¡°Right here.¡±


    I smiled.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never had anyone do a painting of me before.¡± He nuzzled my ear. ¡°I¡¯m more than a little flattered.¡±


    I shrugged again, embarrassed. ¡°It¡¯s yours, if you want it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± He pulled back to look at me, tracing the outline of my face gently with his finger. His eyes were soft as he touched my lips and whispered, ¡°Sara, sometimes I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll ever know how much you mean to me.¡±


    I kissed him, letting my mouth tell him what I felt, what I wanted. He kissed me back, the feel of him a relief as he let his weight press me into the bed.


    His hands moved up under my t-shirt, sliding up my sides, making me squirm.


    ¡°Ohhh, ticklish?¡± he inquired, his fingers finding his way up under my arms. I squealed and writhed and tried desperately to get away.


    ¡°Stop, stop, stop!¡± I cried, laughing too hard to get the words out in anything but a gasp.


    But he went on, persistent, tenacious, until I was howling with laughter, trying to buck him off me, off the bed, but having no luck at all.


    That¡¯s when my door flew open.


    My stepfather¡¯s voice boomed above our heads. ¡°Get the fuck off her!¡±


    I didn¡¯t have the breath to scream, but that¡¯s what my body wanted to do. Instead, I gasped, and Dale was up, protecting me with his body, standing between me and the stepbeast faster than I thought humanly possible.


    What is he doing here?


    My stepfather loomed, glaring at me over Dale¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°We¡¯re going.¡± Dale reached back for my hand, not moving out of my stepfather¡¯s path, keeping his body between me and the stepbeast. I stretched out to take his offered hand, my fingers brushing his, when my stepfather shoved Dale aside with enough force to throw him against the desk, knocking the chair over on its side and spilling apple juice onto the floor.


    Then the stepbeast gave me a shove, the force of it pushing me back onto the bed, my head hitting the wall so hard the edges of my vision went black, all the breath gone from my lungs. My body was paralyzed, my brain sending all sorts of signals but none of them getting through.

 Page 31

    ¡°Get the fuck out of my house!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t see what was happening, not at first. My vision was still too blurry. Dale was bent over as if in pain, gasping, my stepfather standing over him, fists clenched. I found my voice and screamed. No words, just a scream, as loud and long as I could. The sound got Dale moving and he charged forward like a bull, hitting the stepbeast in the midsection with his head, knocking him backward toward the doorway, where I first noticed my mother standing, frozen in place. Dale simultaneously grabbed the backs of the bigger man¡¯s legs and the stepbeast fell like a tree. Then Dale was on him, pounding him with his fists. I couldn¡¯t see anything but Dale¡¯s back, arms flying, hearing the sound of them both panting like animals as they fought, my stepfather getting his legs up and pushing Dale off.Advertisement


    There was blood on my stepfather¡¯s face, and a look of rage darker than I¡¯d ever seen before. He knocked my mother out of the way and I heard a loud thud and then her scream. Dale was after him again, both of them tussling down the hallway. My mother appeared around the corner, looking into my bedroom from the doorway of their room, her cheek bloody.


    ¡°Call 911,¡± I croaked, flying down the hallway after them, passing her. ¡°Mom! Call 911!¡±


    The stepbeast hit Dale with a hard right cross, hard enough I heard the hit, a sick, meaty, crunchy sound, and it knocked him backward. Dale¡¯s hands wheeled out to catch himself, but the bathroom door behind him was open and he tumbled through it.


    ¡°Dale!¡± I cried, reaching out for him, but my stepfather was there, quickly grabbing the door and locking it from the outside. Those doors weren¡¯t supposed to lock that way, but he¡¯d switched the doorknob around years ago, so he could lock her in whenever he felt it was necessary.


    My door and the bathroom worked the same way. You could lock someone in, but you couldn¡¯t lock anyone out.


    Dale pounded on the bathroom door, rattling the knob, calling for me, but I couldn¡¯t hear anything but the sound of my stepfather¡¯s footsteps as he raged down the hallway, eyes red and bleary with anger.


    ¡°You fucking little whore.¡± His words spat over me like a rain of bullets. I winced. ¡°In my house. IN MY HOUSE!¡±


    I didn¡¯t say anything. What was there to say? I closed my eyes and waited for it to come. There was no one to save me. I could scream all I wanted, but no one ever came.


    ¡°DON¡¯T YOU TOUCH HER!¡±


    THUD


    THUD


    THUD


    Dale was trying to break down the bathroom door.


    ¡°Dale, no!¡± I cried, shrinking against the wall as my stepfather grabbed me by the hair. ¡°Stop! Just stop!¡±


    ¡°Pete¡­¡± My mother¡¯s voice, choked, from the floor of their room where she was cradling her busted cheek with her hand. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­please¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± He pointed at her, his eyes wild with rage as he slammed my head against the hallway wall again and again, using it as a weapon while he lectured her, until I saw stars. ¡°This little whore needs to be taught a goddamned lesson!¡±


    THUD


    THUD


    THUD


    ¡°GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!¡± Dale roared.


    The stepbeast ignored the caged tiger in the bathroom, turning his attention to me, his face skewed into a twisted smile as he lifted my face.


    ¡°Nice.¡± He rubbed his thumb through the blood dripping down my chin. ¡°That will make for some good lubrication while you¡¯re sucking my dick, you little whore.¡±


    There was a sound from the bathroom like an oncoming train or a tornado or something even more dangerous. It was an inhuman sound, something from the bowels of the earth, like a demon breaking through to the other side of the world.


    THUD


    THUD


    CRACK!


    I heard the door frame giving way, the wood splintering, but I knew it was too late.


    I looked up at my stepfather, spitting blood at his face, screaming the words.


    ¡°GO TO HELL!¡±


    I knew I was signing my own death warrant, and for once, I really didn¡¯t care. His eyes told me everything I needed to know. This man hated me and was going to kill me. It might be now, it might be someday soon, but it was only a matter of time.


    That was when he hit me. His fist connected with my face and my whole cheek lit up. It felt as if the side of my head had exploded. He¡¯d never hit me with a closed fist before, and I had time to marvel at it before he did it again¡­ and again, driving me back into my room. I covered my face with my hands, curling into a ball on the bed, and waited to die.


    My mother, screaming, ¡°Stop! Pete, stop it! You¡¯re going to kill her!¡± was the last thing I heard before everything faded into blackness.


    ¡°Your mother called the police?¡± Aimee squawked.


    ¡°Mmm hmm.¡± I tried to open my eyes again to look at her, but it was just too painful. I could hardly talk, everything felt so swollen.


    ¡°But they arrested them both?¡±


    ¡°Water?¡± It came out ¡°wa-ar¡± because my consonants still weren¡¯t so great yet. Aimee lifted the cup to my mouth and I sucked on the straw, wincing at the pain¡ªand they had me drugged up pretty good.


    ¡°They took them both to jail to sort it out.¡± John¡¯s voice. I smiled, and that was painful too, but I didn¡¯t care, holding out my hand. I felt his touch, soft and warm, his hand patting mine gently. ¡°They¡¯d both been fighting, and Sara and her mother were passed out cold by then.¡±


    The stepbeast had knocked her out too¡ªthat had been her punishment for making the 911 call.


    ¡°But Dale¡¯s out now?¡±


    ¡°They kept them overnight and arraigned them, but by that time, Sara¡¯s mom was awake and I had her file a restraining order and make a report with the police, so they let Dale go.¡±


    ¡°Thank God,¡± Aimee breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°And your dad? They¡¯re keeping him?¡±


    ¡°Until the trial,¡± John confirmed and I gave a thumbs up with the hand he wasn¡¯t holding. ¡°The prosecutor decided on assault and battery against Sara¡¯s mother, but¡­¡±


    John¡¯s voice trailed off. I heard him whispering to Aimee, but I couldn¡¯t tell what they were saying. I tried to wave, to get their attention, but my limbs felt so heavy.


    ¡°In Sara¡¯s case, they¡¯re looking at attempted murder, since he stabbed her,¡± John explained.


    ¡°He stabbed you?¡± Aimee gasped.


    I just nodded. I couldn¡¯t move the blankets to show her the wound, but I¡¯d had a six inch splintered piece of wood buried in my side. He¡¯d driven it into me, using his fist as a hammer, like a railroad spike.


    ¡°Oh Sara. Oh my God. Are you okay? Is she okay?¡± It was Matt.


    ¡°She¡¯s gonna be just fine now, aren¡¯t you, sweetheart?¡± John, patting my hand again.


    I nodded. ¡°Water?¡±


    Someone put the straw to my lips and I sucked gratefully, even if it was painful.


    ¡°Listen, I¡¯ll bring your homework from the academy,¡± Aimee said from the other side of me. She sniffed, like she¡¯d been crying. ¡°We¡¯re not messing up again this year. We¡¯re both going to graduate, you got it?¡±


    I gave her a thumbs up, trying to smile.


    ¡°You just get better, okay?¡± Matt again. Jeez, it sounded like he was crying too. ¡°Too many people spending time in this damned hospital lately.¡±


    ¡°Tired,¡± I said. The pain was getting better, the morphine the nurse had put into my I.V. line a few minutes ago finally beginning to work.


    ¡°Go to sleep, sweetheart.¡± I felt John¡¯s lips brush the top of my head.


    I tried to give him another thumbs up but I was gone again before I could even lift my hand.


    CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


    I woke up screaming and Dale was there, wrapping his arms around me in the suffocating darkness and whispering in my ear. The words didn¡¯t matter, it was his voice, soft and soothing, the feel of his hand on my forehead, stroking my hair.


    ¡°Is she okay?¡± John, stumbling sleepily down the hall, peeking into Dale¡¯s room.


    ¡°Fine, Dad, just another bad dream,¡± he murmured, kissing my cheek, still bruised as a Canadian sunrise, fading to yellow, orange and the lightest of blues.


    ¡°G¡¯nite, John,¡± I called as he closed the door.


    ¡°Goodnight, hon. Sweet dreams.¡±


    As long as Dale had his arms around me, as long as he was touching me, I could sleep peacefully, but the moment he was gone, my body slipped into a panic.


    ¡°Will you sing to me?¡± I whispered, pulling his arm around me. ¡°Sing me to sleep.¡±


    Dale did, singing a song he wrote for me, the words meaning even more now that he¡¯d broken down the door and come to my rescue like a knight in shining armor, and I closed my eyes, no longer afraid of the darkness or my dreams. He always made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothin¡¯ more that I can do


    There¡¯s nothin¡¯ more that I can say


    With your wall of thorns you have barred my way


    But I will always come for you


    My task is set before me, girl


    My mission clear and true


    There¡¯ll be black knights and dragons, girl


    But I will always come for you¡­¡±


    I floated in his arms, trying not to think about anything but the man who loved me. Usually it worked, and his voice would lull me back to sleep in his strong embrace, but sometimes I couldn¡¯t turn off my mind and the wheel would turn and turn. I would replay it all in my head and then the tape would continue into every possible future, splitting this way and that, spliced again and again.


    John and Dale and Aimee and even the prosecutor, who I¡¯d met with twice, reassured me my stepfather wouldn¡¯t ever have the opportunity to hurt me again. I gave them my Dear Rockstar journals, all of them detailed accounts of what had happened since I was fourteen years old, enough evidence, the prosecutor seemed to think, to put my stepfather away at least for life. New Jersey had the death penalty, and with attempted murder on the list of crimes he was being charged with, it was possible they would sentence him to death.


    Not that anything would bring my mother back.


    They hadn¡¯t told me for three weeks, until I was out of the hospital and settled. John and Dale had moved all my stuff, my clothes and art supplies, into Dale¡¯s room. I¡¯d asked about my mother¡ªshe hadn¡¯t come to see me, and when I¡¯d asked, John mentioned something about a women¡¯s shelter, but when I got home, Dale sat me down on his bed and had finally told me the truth.


    I wanted to go see the apartment, even though it was still a crime scene and we weren¡¯t supposed to. I still had a key and I told him I would go myself if he didn¡¯t come with me, so Dale had walked me down the stairs. There was yellow crime tape over the door. Inside, everything was still the same. It smelled like stale cigarettes and beer and the heavy, coppery odor of blood.


    The bathroom door still hung off its hinges. My door was open, but theirs was closed. I didn¡¯t open it¡ªshe had used my stepfather¡¯s nine millimeter Glock, the one he had held to my head the first time he raped me when I was just fifteen. I don¡¯t know when she discovered it, but she knew, long before I told her. And she pretended not to know, pretended it wasn¡¯t happening, even after that.

 Page 32

    I stood in the middle of my room, looking around at the images of Tyler Vincent still papering my walls. It was all that was left, aside from the furniture. I sat on the bed, tears streaming down my face, looking at the blood-stained carpet in the hallway where I had nearly bled to death after my stepfather had stabbed me with the handiest weapon he could find, determined to silence me once and for all.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Sara.¡± Dale came over to me, brushing my tears from my cheeks as I looked up at him. He had been there. He had heard everything. He knew what my stepfather had done to me¡ªand I had told him everything once I could talk again, while he sat beside my hospital bed and held my hand, in short, hitching whispers.Advertisement


    I had trusted him with it all.


    I even told him about getting pregnant last year, how I had dropped out of school to have the baby. And how, unlike Holly, who had given birth to hers only to have to give it up¡ªI had carried mine for just six months before the stepbeast had beaten me within an inch of my life and my little girl had died inside of me. She¡¯d been dead a week before he took me to the hospital. Long enough for the bruises to heal.


    ¡°What is the secret of this belt?¡± I mused, smiling as I tugged on it, pulling him close enough so I could put my arms around his waist, the studs digging into my bruised cheek, but I didn¡¯t care. ¡°Is it magical? Did you trade your soul for it? Does it give you your amazing voice?¡±


    Dale stroked my hair and I heard the click in his throat as he swallowed. ¡°You¡¯ve told me so much truth in the past couple weeks. I guess it¡¯s time I told you mine.¡±


    I blinked up at him, bemused. ¡°It really is magic?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He smiled, sitting next to me on the bed, taking my hand in his. ¡°It¡¯s my father¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°John¡¯s?¡±


    ¡°No. Not my dad. My father. My biological father.¡± He met my eyes, waiting for me to connect the dots. It took me longer than it should have.


    ¡°Well if it¡¯s not John¡¯s¡­¡± I paused, my gaze distracted by a photograph on the wall, the one I had painted¡ªTyler and Chloe, father and daughter, the picture I had transformed into my symbolic wish fulfillment.


    And I remembered how he had said her name that day he saw my painting, like he knew her, and of course, he had. His mother had been having an affair with Tyler for¡­ years.


    ¡°Tyler?¡± I guessed.


    ¡°She told me the day she left. I suspected, after what I saw, but she admitted it was true.¡±


    ¡°And John doesn¡¯t know,¡± I whispered, my heart breaking for him, for both of them. ¡°Does Tyler know?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°And your sister?¡±


    ¡°Tyler¡¯s. Chrissy knows. She chose to stay with my mother.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re both his?¡± I blinked at him, stunned by his revelation. ¡°And John¡­ he never knew? How could he not know?¡±


    ¡°How did your mother not know your father was¡­¡± His face hardened, eyes pained.


    ¡°But she did,¡± I whispered. ¡°I even told her, eventually. And still she didn¡¯t want to believe.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes the truth is too hard for any of us to face.¡±


    I rested my cheek against his chest, running my fingertips over the studs on his belt. ¡°So why do you wear it, if it was his?¡±


    ¡°To remind me¡­¡± His put his hand over mine at his waist. ¡°Every day I put it on to remind me what not to be¡­ what are you doing?¡±


    I had opened the locket around my neck with my fingernail and was prying out the picture of Tyler, the one Dale had cut into a heart shape and put inside.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need this anymore.¡± I looked at the image of the man I had admired, the one I had created in my mind, built up and put on an impossibly high pedestal. It put it down on the bed, closing the locket with only Dale¡¯s picture left inside¡ªhe was all I needed, all I had ever needed.


    ¡°He belongs here. But I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°No, you belong with me.¡± He put his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. ¡°You¡¯re mine. Now and forever.¡±


    ¡°I love you, Dale,¡± I whispered against his chest as he rocked me slowly back and forth.


    One soft kiss on my forehead. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Will you sing to me?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothin¡¯ more that I can do


    There¡¯s nothin¡¯ more that I can say


    With your wall of thorns you have barred my way


    But I will always come for you


    My task is set before me, girl


    My mission clear and true


    There¡¯ll be black knights and dragons, girl


    But I will always come for you¡­¡±


    We were at the front of the stage, front row center, the best seats I¡¯d ever had, to the best concert I¡¯d ever been to in my life. Aimee and Matt were behind me in the crowd, Carrie and Wendy not far behind them.


    The Black Diamonds were the very last performer in the MTV Battle of the Bands Finals¡ªout of thousands, there were only ten left. MTV was filming it live in the Carrier Dome in Syracuse, and the place was packed far beyond its 33,000 person capacity. The winner would be announced after a final deliberation of celebrity judges and several celebrity performances.


    It turned out I didn¡¯t have to go to Maine to meet Tyler Vincent after all.


    Dale moved across the stage toward me and suddenly his eyes met mine, and the jolt was electric. He squatted down, girls all around me reaching for his outstretched hand, just for a chance to touch him once. His fingertips brushed mine, and I knew he sang the words just for me, like he did every night, held close and safe in his arms.


    ¡°You watch from your tower


    Want to trust I¡¯ll come through


    You can set any trials, girl


    I will always come for you¡­¡±


    ¡°Sara, this is Tyler Vincent.¡± John introduced us and I had to smile and look dazzled for his sake, but thought I was a good enough actress to make it all seem real. I¡¯d been hiding my feelings for years, thanks to the stepbeast, so Tyler Vincent simply thought I was just another fan asking for his autograph.


    Until Dale came up and put his arm around me, leaning down and capturing my mouth with his, a full-on backstage kiss from the only rock star in the world who mattered to me anymore.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be in Maine?¡± Dale asked him. ¡°Some contest?¡±


    ¡°I was.¡± Tyler glanced at his watch. ¡°Two hours ago. Met with the winners and presented awards, hopped on a plane, and here I am. How¡¯d you know about that?¡±


    Dale squeezed his arm around my shoulder. ¡°Sara here entered.¡±


    ¡°Did you do the painting?¡± Tyler¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°The one of me and¡­ well¡­¡±


    I nodded, blushing. ¡°Yeah, that was me.¡±


    ¡°Well, girl, you won!¡± Tyler laughed. ¡°Congratulations! Everyone wondered where you were?¡±


    ¡°Sara, you won?¡± Aimee cried. She¡¯d found us backstage, Matt, Wendy and Carrie bringing up the rear. ¡°The full scholarship?¡±


    ¡°Apparently. But I don¡¯t need it.¡± I slipped my arms around Dale¡¯s waist, looking up to meet his eyes. ¡°I got a far better offer.¡±


    Aimee¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You did.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not what you think.¡± I laughed, reaching around and pulling a folded envelope out of the back pocket of my jeans. I glanced up at Dale, seeing the love shining in his eyes. ¡°I checked the mail at my old apartment before we left. I hadn¡¯t thought about it for weeks.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± John asked, peering over my shoulder.


    I smiled at him. ¡°This is my acceptance to the New York Studio School. John asked me to apply, so I did. Full tuition. I start in the fall.¡±


    ¡°Congratulations!¡± John leaned over, kissing my cheek, which was still bruised, although I¡¯d covered it the best I could with makeup. ¡°When are you going to start calling me dad?¡±


    I looked slyly over at Dale. ¡°When your son asks me to marry him.¡±


    ¡°Well what are you waiting for, son?¡± John laughed, clapping him on the back.


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± A young brunette approached us, tapping Tyler Vincent on the shoulder. ¡°Tyler, you have to announce the winner. It¡¯s time.¡±


    Dale grabbed my hand. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m waiting for.¡±


    ¡°Good luck!¡± Tyler glanced over his shoulder, giving Dale a wink. ¡°Careful what you wish for, man¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you ready to be a rock star?¡± Matt asked Dale, grinning and taking Aimee¡¯s hand as the band gathered around us too, all of them looking nervous, hearing the cheers of the crowd as Tyler took the stage again. He¡¯d performed earlier, but I¡¯d been backstage with Dale and had missed it¡ªand didn¡¯t care at all.


    All ten of the bands, each huddled in groups, waited for the announcement backstage.


    ¡°Hey.¡± I clutched his hand in mine, squeezing hard. He looked down at me, eyes glazed, a little wild. My stomach clenched with nerves. I couldn¡¯t even imagine what he was feeling. ¡°Win or lose¡­ you¡¯re my rock star.¡±


    ¡°Sara...¡± Dale put his arms around me, whispering in my ear so only I could hear him. ¡°I don¡¯t care. I really don¡¯t care anymore. I have you. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    ¡°And the winner is¡­¡± On stage, Tyler Vincent opened the envelope and the crowd was so loud we could barely hear him. ¡°Black Diamond.¡±


    Thirty-thousand people went insane.


    It felt like a hundred people were hugging us at once, but Dale had me in his arms, his mouth on mine, and the rest of the world just melted away.


    Then a small entourage of people came to usher the band onto the stage, telling them where to stand, what to say. But Dale wouldn¡¯t let me go.


    ¡°Go!¡± I laughed, hitting his shoulder, trying to wiggle out of his arms. ¡°This is your moment!¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s ours. You¡¯re coming with me.¡± He insisted, ignoring the handler instructions, dragging me with him onto the stage with the band to accept the title as Best New Band. It was all being filmed live on MTV and I stared out at the crowd, completely overwhelmed, wishing I could turn invisible.


    ¡°Dale Diamond, as the lead singer of the Black Diamonds, what do you have to say?¡± Tyler handed the microphone over to Dale, who dropped my hand to wave at the crowd.


    ¡°Thank you!¡±


    They roared their approval.


    ¡°I want to say thank you to all of you who supported us. And thanks to the judges. And congratulations to the band, Black Diamond¡ªTerry Miller, Rick Baker, Eddie Allen¡­ and Dale Diamond!¡±


    Another swell of applause from the crowd. Eddie Allen! That was Bear, the drummer¡¯s, full name! I smiled, hugging myself, standing back and letting them have their moment. I didn¡¯t belong out here on stage. Glancing over, I saw John and Aimee and Matt standing next to Wendy and Carrie backstage. They waved, all of them giving me a thumbs up. That¡¯s where I belonged. I wasn¡¯t a rock star¡ªI was just a fan.


    Dale Diamond¡¯s biggest fan.


    Then he was turning to me, the love in his eyes almost knocking me over, still holding tight to the microphone.

 Page 33

¡°I just need to say one more thing.¡±


    Then Dale Diamond sank to one knee in front of thirty thousand people and made me the luckiest girl in the world.Advertisement


    The End