Page 104 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
Together, we create something whole.
Then he starts to sing.
His voice comes in soft and intimate, so close I can feel the vibration of it. And this time, with our shoulders touching, he doesn’t miss a single note. His voice grows stronger and more confident with each line. The lyrics are vulnerable and raw. The real Ryder Hamilton.
My fingers keep moving through the pattern, muscle memory taking over so I can focus on his voice. On the way it cracks slightly on the emotional peaks. Tingles dance along my spine as I take in the lyrics.
“When the feedback finally dies, there’s nothing left but me.And the ghost of who I was before they told me who to be.”
It’s beautiful.
I glance at his profile and find his eyes closed, completely lost in the music. His body relaxes beside mine, the tension washing away with each measure.
He’s beautiful.
The song builds to a bridge, and his voice climbs higher. My fingers keep their steady pattern, anchoring him as he pours his heart out.
“The static fades to silence, leaves me standing here alone.And in the ringing emptiness, I hear myself calling home.”
On the final chorus, his voice breaks perfectly on the last line as the chords fade beneath it.
My four notes ring out alone for one more cycle before I lift my fingers, letting the silence settle.
Neither of us moves.
I’m afraid if I speak, or even shift, I’ll break whatever magic just happened.
Finally, Ryder opens his eyes and turns his head to look at me. We’re so close I can see the gold flecks in his dark irises.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“I barely did anything.”
“You did everything.” His voice is rough with emotion. “I couldn’t play it alone. But with you...” He trails off, his gaze dropping to where my hand still rests on the keys. “With you, I could.”
My heart pounds so hard I’m certain he can hear it.
“That was beautiful,” I manage. “The song. Your voice. All of it.”
A soft smile curves his lips. “It’s called ‘Static.’ It’s one of the first songs I wrote when I left home.”
“I’m so glad I got to hear it.”
His hand finds mine on the keys, covering it completely. Not guiding this time. Just holding.
“Me too.” Ryder’s thumb brushes across my knuckles. “Can I tell you something?”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t look at me yet, just watches his thumb caress my skin. “When I first started out, my parents were the only people I could lean on. Before managers, before gigs, before any of this.” He pauses. “I’d mess up at an open mic and call my dad on the drive home, and he’d just... talk me down. Remind me why I started.”
“That sounds really nice.”
“It was.” His thumbs absently taps against my knuckle before swiping across the rest of them. “But then things started moving. Miranda. The band. Getting paid. Somewhere in all of that, I noticed a shift.” He exhales slowly. “They stopped just being happy for me. They started needing me to succeed.”
I watch his profile. “Because of everything they put in.”
“Yeah.” He nods. “And I get it. I do. My dad’s hands are wrecked. My mom shelved her whole career. They gave up so much, and now every time I call them I can hear this hope in their voices.” His jaw tightens. “It’s heavier than stage fright.”
