Page 47 of Saving the Rockstar

Dylan rolled his eyes, his grin widening. "Oh, please. I know you, Ash. I can read you like a book. And right now, you've got'I just had mind-blowing sex'written all over your face."

I sputtered, my mind racing for a denial, an excuse, anything to wipe that smug look off his face. But before I could come up with a response, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Honestly, it's about damn time. I was starting to think you were eligible for your virginity card again, it's been so long. I mean, seriously. You could have started a cobweb collection down there."

I groaned, my face burning with embarrassment. "Jesus, Dylan. Could you be any cruder?"

He shrugged, unrepentant. "Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it. And right now, I see a man who's finally gotten some action after months of pining and sexual frustration. Congratulations, my friend. You've officially joined the ranks of the well-fucked."

I shook my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Impossibly charming, you mean," he quipped, waggling his eyebrows. "But enough about me. I want details, Ash. How was it? Was it everything you'd been dreaming of? Did he make you see stars?"

I hesitated, the memories of last night flooding back in a rush of heat and sensation. The feel of Jared's strong hands on my ass, the taste of his cock, the way he had looked at me like I was the most precious thing in the world...

"It was perfect," I said softly. "Hewas perfect."

Dylan's expression softened, his teasing smile fading into something more genuine. "I'm happy for you. Really. Of course, this means I'm the only one left in the band who's not getting any. Well, unless you count Mason's right hand, which I'm pretty sure he's on a first-name basis with by now."

I giggled. "Oh, please. As if you're not secretly pining after him yourself. I've seen the way you look at him."

To my surprise, Dylan actually blushed, his eyes darting away from mine. "I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

I raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across my face. "Oh, really? So you're telling me you don't have a thing for tall, dark, and grumpy? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're just as smitten as I am."

Dylan huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Okay, first of all, I am not smitten. And second of all, even if I was, which I'm not, it would never work out. The man is a walking disaster, Ash. He's got the emotional intelligence of a rock and the social skills of a feral cat."

I bit back a laugh, my eyebrows rising even higher. "Is that so? Do tell."

And with that, Dylan was off, launching into a rant.

"Just the other day, I asked him to pass me a water bottle during rehearsal. You know what he did? He chucked it at my head like a fucking baseball. Nearly gave me a concussion, the asshole. Some head of security he is, putting the talent in danger like that."

I tried to picture it, the image of Dylan ducking and cursing as Mason hurled projectiles at him. It was almost too perfect.

"And then, last night, I made the mistake of asking him to help me pick out an outfit for the show. I figured, hey, he's always got that whole'brooding bad boy'look going on, maybe he could give me some tips. You know what he said? He said, and I quote,'Just wear whatever won't make you look like a complete tool. So, basically, nothing you own.'Can you believe that? The nerve of that man, insulting my fashion sense. I'll have you know, I'm a style icon, Ash. A fucking trendsetter."

By now, I was practically wheezing with laughter as I imagined Dylan's outraged expression.

"Oh my god, Dyl. You've got it bad," I managed to choke out, my voice breathless with mirth. "Just admit it, you're into him. Grumpy attitude and all."

But Dylan just shook his head, his lips pressed into a stubborn line. "Nope. Not happening. I would rather dress in head-to-toe neon and perform a strip tease on stage than admit to having feelings for that overgrown man-child."

I held up my hands in surrender, still grinning from ear to ear. "Alright. Whatever you say. But just so you know, I think you two would be great together. You know what they say about opposites attracting and all that."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, they also say that if you love something, set it free. And in this case, I'm pretty sure'setting it free'means'throwing it off a cliff.'So, thanks but no thanks. I'll stick to my one-night stands, thank you very much."

I shrugged, picking up my plate of food. "Suit yourself, man. But don't come crying to me when you're old and alone, wondering what might have been."

Dylan flipped me off, his lips twitching with a barely-suppressed smile. "Fuck off. Go bother your boyfriend or something. I've got important shit to do, like practicing myautograph for all the jockstraps that are going to be thrown at me tonight."

I laughed, shaking my head as I watched him saunter off. But as I made my way to an empty table, I couldn't shake the feeling that Dylan's bravado was just a mask, a way to hide the vulnerability that lay beneath.

And I knew, with a sudden certainty, that I would do whatever it took to help my friend find the same happiness that I had found, even if he was too stubborn to admit that he wanted it.

But as I sat down and pulled out my phone, intending to send Jared a quick message, I felt my blood run cold at the sight of an email from a name I had hoped never to see again.

Carter.

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