Page 87 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
With my legs giving out, I sink onto a chaise lounge with maxed-out exhaustion. “Can I have a minute? I’m too tired to move again.”
Ryder plonks onto the adjacent lounge and scoops up the remote to navigate through streaming services. “What episode do you want to watch?”
All I want is something normal and familiar. I’m quick to tell him, “Episode five.”
Tension leaves my shoulders as soon as the opening music starts. The bright colors and overly enthusiastic commentary bring color back to my skin. I almost crack a smile, hearing Mom’s voice inside my head, cheering on her favorite contestant. The joyful chaos of professional chefs competing in ridiculous challenges washes away the emotional confrontation with Miranda.
About halfway through the episode, when a contestant named Connor successfully flambés a dessert despite the time pressure, I’m smiling with the echo of my parents’ cheers.
“That guy, Connor, was my mom’s favorite,” I say weakly, hugging my middle. “She wanted him to win. Dad would just go along with whoever she chose.”
Ryder turns to look at me, wearing a smile curved with hope. “Then it’s Team Connor all the way.”
The simple acceptance in his voice brings back my tears. I’m so appreciative that he didn’t question why I wanted to watch theshow. He’s not telling me to move on or process my grief. He’s just letting me be.
Keeping my eyes on the TV, I whisper, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not letting me go when I asked you to. For…” I continue to watch the screen, where Connor explains his flavor profiles to the judges. “For this.”
Ryder doesn’t respond immediately, which makes me glance over at him.
He meets me with a cheesy grin. “No problem. This is my favorite show.”
My mouth falls open. “It is?”
He snorts. “No. I’ve never seen it before.”
Something resembling a laugh murmurs out of me.
Ryder shrugs. “Worth a try.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lame attempt at making you laugh.”
“Oh.” I can’t tell if I’m smiling or not.
Ryder smiles, and I hope I’m smiling back.
I turn my attention back to the television, where Connor is indeed advancing to the next round. I allow myself to imagine that somewhere my mom is pleased about this small victory.
Maybe Mom doesn’t want me uncovering the secret feud she had with her sister.
I feel Ryder watching me from the adjacent chaise. After what he did for me at Alto Burger, it’s no surprise he once again caught me when I was falling.
I sigh at his profile in my peripherals. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not as alone in this cold house as I thought I was.
Sixteen
I’mbackinthecatering van with my parents, watching the storm clouds gather ahead of us on the mountain road. But this time, it’s different. This time, I’m not just a passenger; I’m the driver. My hands grip the steering wheel as rain pounds against the windshield.
“Slow down, Alice,” Mom says from the passenger seat, her voice tight with concern. “The roads are getting slippery.”
But I can’t slow down. My foot is stuck on the accelerator, and no matter how hard I try to lift it, the van keeps speeding toward the curve ahead. The curve where everything went wrong.
“I can’t stop.” I gasp, panic rising in my throat. “I can’t make it stop!”
