Page 102 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
Ryder is still looking at the place where the paper was. Then he shifts, leaning in close, and I feel the warmth of him against my shoulder before I hear his voice. Low and unhurried, his lips near my hair.
“Thank you.”
I don’t answer. I don’t think he needs me to.
I stand there beside him in the quiet kitchen, watching the last curl of smoke disappear into nothing, and let the moment be what it is.
Nineteen
“Soyou’rereallygonnaplay for me?” I ask, following Ryder into the practice room.
“That’s what you wanted, right?”
I cheer, lifting onto the balls of my feet. “Yay.”
Ryder laughs. “Well, that was a bit cute.”
My blush intensifies swiftly.
Ryder moves across the room, passing his keyboard and tracing the cracks on its side.
My stomach tightens. “Ryder,” my voice trembles. “I’m sorry, I…”
Ryder looks up and double takes at me. Realization hits his face when his gaze follows his hand on the keyboard.
“Check it out,” he says, sitting on the bench and playing a simple scale. “It still works perfectly.”
I sigh out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Oh wow. I’m so glad it still sounds good.”
A guilty smile crosses Ryder’s lips. “Just like you said it would.”
“I still feel awful about this.”
There’s teasing in Ryder’s voice. “You can’t help how desperate you were to hear me play.”
I give him a displeased look.
Ryder chuckles to himself, fingering the keys. “Okay, if I turn up at the recording booth with the keyboard in this condition, I’d get massive side-eye,” Ryder admits. “But Chase has already hooked us up with a new keyboard for the showcase.”
I groan with aggravation. “After all the crap he gave me about damaging this one, he just goes and gets a new one? Freaking rich kids!”
Ryder smirks, seemingly enjoying my frustration. “Tell me about it.”
I narrow my gaze at him. “And you thought I was one of them?”
“Hey, I still don’t know your net worth.”
“Neither do I. I’m either coming into an inheritance, or selling my parents’ home and business will pay for mortgages or legal fees or something else I don’t know about.”
Ryder winces. “Sounds like a middle-class problem, not an Ashworth elitist problem.”
I smile proudly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, I guess?”
I lean in and tap two of the keys. “So, do you play the keyboard often? On the tracks I’ve heard, you seem to be on the guitar.”
“It’s mostly guitar,” he replies, placing both hands on the keys and playing a melody. “But sometimes a song calls for a piano. When I was solo, I’d play it more often.”
