Page 128 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
I open my eyes and find him watching me with an expression that’s tender, wanting, and careful all at once.
“I like you,” he says simply. “I know the timing is terrible. I know you’re dealing with more than anyone should have to. But I like you, Ally. And I think—I hope—you might like me too.”
My heart is racing so fast I feel dizzy. “I don’t know if what I’m feeling is real or if I’m just desperate not to be alone.”
“That’s okay.”
“It’s not fair to you.”
“Let me decide what’s fair to me.” His thumb continues its gentle path across my cheekbone. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”
“But what if I’m wrong?” my voice cracks. “What if I’m reading this all wrong and you’re just being nice to me because you feel bad?”
“Alice.” He waits until I meet his eyes. “Does this feel like I’m just being nice?”
His hand is still cradling my face. My hands still press against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. We’re inches apart, breathing the same air, and the tension between us is so thick it’s almost suffocating.
“No,” I whisper.
“Then stop overthinking it.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Then let me help.” He leans in slowly, giving me every opportunity to pull away. To say no. To stop this before it becomes something we can’t take back.
But I don’t stop it.
His forehead touches mine first, and we stay like that for a moment. The first drops of rain hit the window. Soft at first, then building into a steady patter.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs against my lips.
I nod without needing words.
“Tell me if it’s not.” His breath is warm on my face. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
Instead of answering, I close the last inch between us.
The kiss is soft at first. Cautious, like we’re both testing to see if this is real, or if we’ll pull away and pretend it never happened. But then Ryder’s hand slides into my hair, and I make a small sound before the kiss deepens.
It’s not the passionate, all-consuming kiss I’ve read about in books. It’s slow and questioning, like we’re both learning what this is. His lips are softer than I expected.
Outside, the rain intensifies. It’s drumming against the window, but I barely hear it over the sound of my own heartbeat. His silver chains press cold against my fingers where my hands have fisted in his shirt.
I don’t know how long we kiss. Time feels irrelevant. All I know is the pressure of his mouth on mine, and the way his thumb strokes against my jaw. When our lips break apart, it’s only by inches. Ryder’s forehead rests against mine, both of us breathing harder than we should be.
“Okay?” he whispers.
I nod because articulating what I’m feeling seems impossible. The confusion, the guilt, the comfort, and the desperate need to feel something other than grief.
The rain pounds harder against the window, and Ryder pulls back slightly to look at me, his hand still cradling my face.
“The storm.” Concern flickers across his expression. “Are you okay? I know thunder scares you.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper, surprised to find it’s true. The fear that usually grips me at the first rumble of thunder is... distant. Muffled beneath everything else I’m feeling.
His thumb brushes across my cheekbone. “You sure? We can move away from the window if…”
“I’m okay,” I repeat, more firmly this time. “With you here, I’m okay.”
