Page 120 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
He sets his coffee mug down on the side table. “Alice…”
“Why do you care?” The words come out sharply. I want them to hurt and push him away before he gets too close. “You made it pretty clear when I got here that you wanted nothing to do with me.”
Ryder flinches, but he doesn’t back down. “That was before I knew you.”
“Oh, so now you know me?” I let out a harsh laugh. “After what, a week? You think a few conversations and some piano playing means you know me?”
“I know you’re hurting right now.” His voice stays steady and calm. “I know something Miranda said got under your skin. And I know you’re trying to pick a fight with me so I’ll leave you alone.”
The accuracy of it steals my breath.
“Well, congratulations,” I say, my voice brittle. “You figured me out. So why don’t you just go?”
“Because that’s not what you actually want.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“Then tell me.” He takes a step closer. “Tell me what Miranda said. Tell me what’s in your pocket that you’re so desperate to hide.”
My hand instinctively goes to the bulge of the folded report, and his eyes track the movement. “It’s nothing.”
“Alice.”
“It’s just…” My voice cracks despite my best efforts. “It’s the police report about my parent’s car accident. My therapist gave it to me.”
Understanding floods Ryder’s expression. “You didn’t have it before?”
I look down with shame. “Someone probably tried to give it to me, but… but I… shut everyone out.”
“What did Miranda say? Did she want to read it?”
I shrug, keeping my gaze on the floor. “She already had a copy.”
“Oh.”
Ryder’s quiet acknowledgment hangs in the air between us. I feel him watching me, but I keep my eyes fixed on the floor. On the knots in the hardwood. On anything that isn’t him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is careful. “Or do you want me to distract you?”
The question catches me off guard. I look up and find him watching me with those patient, dark eyes.
“I don’t know,” I murmur.
“That’s okay.” He shifts his weight, as if he’s settling in for however long this takes. “We can just stand here, if you want? Or do you want to sit down?”
My hand is still gripping the banister so hard my knuckles have gone white. I force myself to loosen my grip and flex my fingers.
“What kind of distraction?” The question comes out smaller than I intended.
A hint of a smile tugs at Ryder’s lips. “I could make you watch me practice and bore you with music theory. Or we could watch that cooking show. The one with your mom’s favorite contestant.”
Something in my chest tightens at the mention of Mom, but it doesn’t hurt the way it usually does. “Connor,” I whisper.
Ryder nods with recognition. “Team Connor all the way.”
“I don’t know what I want,” I admit, my voice cracking with frustration.
Ryder’s expression softens. “That’s okay.”
