Page 94 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“What?”
I grimace, pulling away from him. “Your sweater.”
“Ugh. No.” He pulls away, and sure enough, the food stains on his sweater have smudged onto mine. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry.”
A laugh mumbles out of me as his arms leave my sides. “It’s okay.”
My laughter rises in volume. I rest my forehead in my palm, and my body convulses. The hysteria bubbles in my gut, and Ilet it take me. My hand moves over my mouth, but the laughter keeps pouring out. Tears blur my vision, and they make me smile more. I have no idea why I’m laughing, and it just makes me laugh more. I hug an arm around my waist, and there’s a pain in my gut. I gasp for breath and hiccup another laugh.
Ryder rubs a circle on my back as I lean over the table, my laughter subsiding.
“You good?” he asks, and I hear the smile in his voice.
I hiccup a final laugh and murmur, “Mm-hmm.”
Ryder pulls out the seat beside me, still rubbing my back. “How long has it been since you laughed?”
I rest my head on the table and look up at him. “No idea.”
His eyebrow arches as he grins. “Feel good?”
I nod with my cheek pressed against the mahogany surface. “Mm-hmm. Especially after tossing my food at you.”
“Oh, that felt good, did it?”
I sigh, closing my eyes. “Oh my gosh. So freaking good.”
Ryder laughs, adding extra pressure to the circle on my back. “Glad to hear it.”
I keep my eyes closed, enjoying the sensations on my back.
“It’s good to see you smile, Ally.”
I open my eyes and watch the details in his expression. “Why are you calling me that?”
His hand lifts from my back. “What?”
“Since when have you started calling me Ally?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize…”
Why did I say anything? I want his hand to be on my back again. It was so soothing.
His jaw rocks. “Do you hate it?”
I’m quick with, “No.”
Dang. His hand isn’t back there. Can I just ask him to put it back? Would that be weird?
His hands clasp on the table beside me, and I resign to the fact the back rub is over. I lift my head and smooth a hand over my hair as I sit back against the chair.
“I don’t know why I called you it,” Ryder says, twirling his thumbs. “It just came out.”
I clear my throat. “Well, I don’t hate it.”
“Did anyone else call you Ally?”
I shake my head. “No, never. My parents would call me Sprout. But other than that, no nicknames.”
