Page 181 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
I press a hand against his jaw and study the shape of his lips. “This hurt so much because I care about you, Ryder. I’ve fallen for you too.”
Something shifts in his expression. The last of the distance closes, and his lips press against mine. It’s soft and tentative at first, but something inside me comes alive. My need for him is urgent. I’d spent so long convincing myself I don’t need him, that now I’m finally telling the truth. I grip the front of his shirt, and for a moment the whole world narrows down to this room.
His hands are wild in my hair, and his earthy scent sends me dizzy. He’s like an antidote to my grief, with a kiss that’s like oxygen.
When we finally break apart, his forehead rests against mine, and we’re both breathing harder than we should. His hand is still in my hair, and neither of us moves.
“Hi,” he says, a little unsteady.
I laugh, short and breathless. “Hi.”
He pulls back just enough to look at my face, and he smiles.
“Tomorrow night,” he says, catching his breath. “After the showcase. I want to find you in the crowd.”
“I’ll be there,” I say.
His thumb traces along my cheekbone. “I know.” He drops his hand slowly, as if letting go takes effort. “I just want you to know I’ll be looking.”
Thirty-Two
Mycamerasitsinmy lap as the second band of the night plays on stage. The lanyard around my neck feels heavier than it should for something made of nylon and a laminated card.
‘Miranda Knox Management: Photography.’
I run my thumb along the edge as Madison leans in close with her phone angled so we can both see the screen.
“I know you didn’t want to check it at school today,” she says, “but I did before coming here tonight.”
It’s the school paper. Madison scrolls slowly, and I follow the movement of the page. Past the masthead. Past the editorial. Past the arts section where my name could have been. Where a story about grief and a scandal involving my parents’ names could have been.
Jasper Whitmore’s name is nowhere to be seen. It’s someone else’s byline and a story about the arts club fundraiser.
“He didn’t run it.” Madison locks her phone and slides it into her bag with satisfaction. “I don’t know if someone got to him or if he lost his nerve, but it’s not there.”
“It doesn’t matter why. I’m just so grateful my parents aren’t there in black and white.”
“Agreed,” she decides. “There was no room in the school paper for something like that. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Deluca said something.”
My smile is effortless. “Mr. Deluca is the best. I’m so grateful he’s giving me time to adjust. All my teachers have been great. Today, I went to each one, ready to grovel, but they were all so understanding. I thought for sure they were going to take up all my free time with detentions.”
“Not exactly a great look to give the girl, who just lost her parents, detentions.”
“They would have been right to do so. I was flaking on my classes.”
“You’re grieving and started attending your new school much too soon. Your teachers are cutting you some slack. Do the same for yourself.”
I exhale a long breath. “Thanks, Mads. It’s been really nice having you sticking with me.”
Madison giggles. “Even when I asked you to repeatedly describe your kiss with Ryder throughout lunch?”
“I’m giving you a pass because it beat being alone like the rest of my lunch periods.” I can’t help spying over my shoulder. “Speaking of classes, I didn’t see Jasper in photography today. Is he here tonight?”
“Nope, haven’t seen him or his parents.”
I wince. “Dang it. I know Miranda was hoping to get an investment from his dad.”
“Wasn’t it something your aunt said that made Jasper snoop into your business in the first place?”
