The Rockstar I've Loved for So Long

By: Marian Tee

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS



I owe my humblest and sincerest thanks to God, my family, and partner Allen Tan.

This book wouldn’t have been as pretty – inside and out – as it is now if not for the help of CT Cover Creations and The Passionate Proofreader.

Last but not the least, thank you to my fellow boxed set authors – Liliana Rhodes, Mina V. Esguerra, Caitlyn Duffy, Ava Lore, and K.T. Fisher – I’m so honored that you guys trusted me on this one. I hope we can work on something like this every year!





Prologue



Sabrina “Bree” Wyle should have worn her glasses, shouldn’t have let vanity get the better of her. But like most good ideas, it came a little too late and now she was dying of curiosity.

The guy on stage had the most beautiful voice – and that was all she knew. Stupid impaired eyesight only allowed her to make out a figure in white – and that was it.

Something about that voice made Bree catch her breath. She didn’t love rock music like her friend did, but she had attended this concert anyway, figuring it was about time she came out of her shell.

She was fourteen already and she still hadn’t had her first kiss. Everyone she knew had theirs when they weren’t even in their teens.

Tonight was all about being girly and not dorky, but it had been an epic fail – or at least it had been until this guy came on stage.

Squinting hard, she tried to make better sense of his features. Dark hair? Tanned skin? Really tall? She just couldn’t tell, and she and Saffi already had front row seats, courtesy of her chaperone’s famous last name.

Tugging at Saffi’s sleeve, she whispered self-consciously, “Tell me. Is he gorgeous?” Bree didn’t want to risk anyone accidentally hearing her ask about a guy. Especially this guy. It just wasn’t done for a dork like her to even dare have a crush on a rock star.

“Yup!” Saffi clucked her tongue. “You really should’ve worn your glasses, Bree.”

“Easy for you to say,” Bree huffed. Saffi, who was older by four years, might be a bigger nerd than her, but she would never have to worry about looking like one.

Saffi looked like a cute doll. Bree didn’t – unless it was ideal to look like Chucky’s oversized teenage sister.

Saffi sighed. “You’ve got the strangest hang-ups about your looks! You’re stunning, voluptuous—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bree thought the world of Saffi, but she was too nice. She wasn’t blind about her looks. She was too everything that was not right. Too curvy, too fair, too ordinary with too brown hair and too brown eyes.

The rock star was singing the last lines of his song, which was haunting and catchy at the same time. Impressive for a self-composed song from someone who wasn’t even a pro.

Thinking about that voice saying her name was enough to make Bree blush. Oh God, she really did wish she had brought her glasses with her. She’d risk wearing it outside school just to know what this guy really looked like.

The song ended and the huge crowd of high school girls screamed. Bree shrieked with them and so did Saffi, who was sort of a professional screamer – the kind that didn’t go hoarse even after screaming nonstop for hours.

“Is he gone?”

“Backstage,” Saffi confirmed.

Bree’s shoulders slumped. And there went her first crush. Well, it was sweet while it lasted.

They met with Silver, one of Saffi’s older brothers, at the side of the stage, where he had been hanging out with his own set of friends. If Saffi was Bree’s chaperone, then Silver was hers. It had always been so since Saffi was the baby of her family.

“How did you find your first concert, Bree?” There was a grin in Silver’s voice that made Bree grin back.

“It was great.”

Pause.

And then Silver said, “Aaaaah.”

Bree scowled. “Saffi, you always did have a big mouth!”

Saffi giggled.

“I know him, actually. Well, he’s more like an acquaintance,” Silver said. “His name’s Dylan Charbonneau and we’ve bumped into each other a few times in some parties. He’s enrolled in one of those art colleges in NYC.”

Bree suppressed a sigh. Dylan Charbonneau. Even his name sounded way out of her league.

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