Page 121 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“But I...” I pull the folded police report from my back pocket, staring at it. “I need to put this somewhere safe first.”
“Okay.” He gestures toward the stairs. “Lead the way.”
I climb the stairs with Ryder following behind me. When I reach my bedroom door, I pause, hyperaware that I’m about to let him into my space.
I open the door and step inside.
My room still doesn’t feel like mine. But my few belongings scattered across the surfaces make it slightly more bearable.
Ryder steps in behind me, and I move to my desk, opening the top drawer to tuck the report inside.
“Is that them?” Ryder asks, gesturing at the framed photo of my parents on my desk.
“Yeah.”
He picks up the frame carefully, studying the image. Mom and Dad, after a successful event, beaming at the camera.
“They look really happy,” Ryder says softly.
“They were. They were the best people.”
He sets the frame down gently, exactly where it was, and then his eyes land on something on the nightstand.
“What’s this?” He reaches for the small wooden music box, its surface worn smooth from years of handling.
“Just an old music box.” I take it from him, turning it over in my hands. The tape holding it together has yellowed with age. “It’s broken.”
“Can I see?”
I hand it back to him, watching him examine it with the same careful attention he gave the photo.
“I don’t even know why I brought it with me,” I say. “It hasn’t worked in a long time. It was one of those things my dad said he’d get around to fixing, but it just didn’t happen.”
Ryder inspects the damage more closely. “Life gets busy, I guess.”
“True. It would be nice if it were working, though. I got it for my sixth birthday, and I always loved the way it sounded. Kinda clunky and mechanical.”
“So it never worked well?”
“No, it did. It was just the way the cogs moved inside, making the music that always fascinated me.”
Ryder smiles. “Sounds like you could have figured out how to fix this if you enjoy the mechanics of it.”
I nod. “Maybe I could have. I just always prioritized schoolwork, so I never thought to do it for myself. I even turned photography into a job, doing it for my parents’ business.”
“Is that why they bought you such a fancy camera? It was a business expense?”
“Quite the opposite. They wanted me to put the books down and have adventures. I guess I just liked being around them. Family feels like home.”
He nods with quiet understanding. “And you’re still looking for that connection.”
“And realizing more and more quickly I won’t find it with my aunt.”
Ryder opens the base of the music box, peering inside at the mechanism. “I think we can figure this out together.”
I lean in closer, our shoulders brushing. “I hope we can get it working. It’d be nice to hear it when I’m going to bed.”
Teasingly, Ryder replies, “Is my music not good enough anymore?”
