Page 131 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
Miranda’s eyes narrow slightly. “It’s more than good, Ryder. This is the opportunity we’ve been working toward.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Her tone sharpens. “Because I would have assumed you’d be in the practice room all day.”
Ryder sits back with a shrug. “Sue me. I got hungry.”
Miranda’s eyes flick my way, and then back at him. “Mm-hmm. Just try to keep the distractions to a minimum.”
“I’ll be ready,” Ryder says firmly.
“You’d better be.” Miranda taps her pen against the planer. “Chase and Brooks are already at the venue doing preliminary setup. You need to be there by six at the latest.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good.” Miranda’s phone buzzes, and she glances at it, frowning. “I need to take this.” She heads toward the doorway, then stops, turning back. “Alice, you’ll have dinner on your own tonight. Mrs. Gallagher won’t be coming in.”
“That’s fine,” I say quietly.
Miranda nods and disappears down the hallway, already answering her phone.
The silence that follows feels heavier than before.
I take another bite of my sandwich, forcing it down past the lump in my throat. Competing bands. Executives. This is real. This is Ryder’s future, and it’s happening tonight.
“You okay?” Ryder asks softly.
“Yeah.” I set down my sandwich, no longer hungry. “That sounds like a big deal.”
“It is.”
“Are you nervous?”
He runs a hand through his hair, that familiar gesture of stress. “Terrified.”
The admission surprises me. Ryder always seems so confident on stage, even with his stage fright.
“You’ll be amazing,” I say wholeheartedly.
“I don’t know.” He pushes his plate away, appetite apparently gone. “Last night at Chase’s house, his dad was laying out all these expectations. Talking about image and marketability and whether we can sustain a career.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Yeah.” He leans back on his stool, staring at the ceiling. “And now tonight, with all these executives watching... one mistake and it’s over.”
I think about yesterday, playing the keyboard with him. How he couldn’t play alone but could with me beside him.
“Do you want me to come?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
Ryder’s head snaps toward me, surprise clear on his face. “To the venue?”
“Yeah. I mean, if it would help.” My face heats. “Yesterday, with the piano, you said—“
“You’d do that?”
“If it would help you,” I repeat.
Enthusiasm brightens his expression. “It would. Dang, Ally, it really would.”
