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“Don’t be too long,” my stepfather said gruffly and then the line was clear again.
“Was that your dad?”
“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—even 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?”
