Page 90 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
I squeeze his hand. “I loved it.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Ryder, I don’t think you understand how real you are.” I give his hand another squeeze before releasing it. “A few nights ago, I was having nightmares, and the only thing that settled my nerves was listening to that performance.”
He shifts nervously. “Are you serious?”
“Your performance makes me feel less alone. Like, if someone so popular at school, has millions of views online, and has incredible talent can be nervous, then maybe I’ll be okay as I fall apart.”
“I really made you feel like that?”
I give him a weak smile. “It’s nice to know the guy off the stage can also show emotion.”
“Wow, Alice. For you to say that when you’re going through… Thanks, just thanks.”
“Thank you, too. I’m really glad I’ve been introduced to your music. Even if it’s just the one song I’ve been listening to on repeat.”
Ryder gets up and moves back over to his bed. I lower on the chaise lounge, reposition the blanket over me, and whisper, “Good night,” to him.
“I’m coming back,” he whispers, his footsteps nearing again. He perches on the coffee table, scrolling on his phone. “I’ll find you something else to listen to.”
My heart beats faster. “Another one of your songs?”
“Yeah.” He lowers the phone as electric chords play through the speaker. “It’s one of the new tracks the band is working on. Maybe you’ll like it?” He settles the phone near my pillow and gets up from the coffee table. “There’s six songs on the playlist we recorded a month or so ago.”
I close my eyes, listening to the rock ballad. “Wow. Thank you so much.”
“No problem. It’s nice to have a fan.”
I open my eyes and catch his smile before it disappears into the darkness.
“Sweet dreams, Ally,” he whispers, moving back to his bed.
I can’t help smiling as my eyelids grow heavy. My heart’s a flutter as Ryder’s gravelly voice sings a new melody and coaxes me back to sleep.
Seventeen
MyconsciousnessreturnsasI slowly wake up. My eyelids flutter, bringing into focus the cream-colored walls and plush furniture. It takes me a moment to remember I’m in Ryder’s bedroom.
The sound of running water comes from somewhere nearby. Ryder must be in the bathroom. I sit up on the chaise lounge and run my hands through my hair, hoping I don’t look like a shaggy mess.
The bathroom door opens, and Ryder emerges with damp hair from the shower. He’s in jeans and a dark green sweater that makes his eyes appear darker than usual. I suck in a breath and heat burns my face, as I’m both relieved and disappointed he’s no longer shirtless.
“Good morning,” he says with a small smile, towel drying his hair. “How did you sleep?”
“Surprisingly good,” I admit, stretching out the kinks from sleeping on the lounge. “What time is it?”
Ryder tosses his towel back in the bathroom. “About ten-thirty.”
“Ten-thirty?” I bolt upright, panic flooding my system. “Ryder, we’re supposed to be in school! We’re super late! Miranda is going to kill us!”
“Relax. I already texted my driver to pretend he took us to school on time.”
I stare at him in confusion. “But what about Miranda? Won’t she find out?”
“Miranda left at seven this morning for a business meeting in the city,” Ryder explains. “She won’t be back until tonight.”
“So you just... let me sleep in?” I ask, processing the fact he’s given us both a day off school without consulting me. “Ryder, Miranda gave me a lecture about going to classes.”
