Page 132 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
The nickname sends a thrill through my body. “Then I’ll come.”
“You sure? I get it if crowds aren’t really your thing right now.”
“I’ll manage.”
He reaches over and takes my hand, his fingers threading through mine on the counter between us. The gesture feels natural, as if we’ve been doing it for years.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
Miranda’s heels click back down the hallway, and Ryder quickly releases my hand. We both grab our sandwiches like they’re the only interesting things in the room.
Miranda appears in the doorway, phone still pressed to her ear, and her expression darkens. “What do you mean he’s sick?” A pause. “The photographer can’t just cancel four hours before—“ She pinches the bridge of her nose. “No, I understand it’s the flu, but I was promised a marketing budget from the label. I mean, why else am I working with you people?”
I blow out a constricted breath. You people?
She paces toward the window, her posture losing some of its measured control. “Fine. Yes. I’ll figure something out.”
Miranda ends the call and stands there for a moment, staring out at the rain with her jaw clenched.
“What happened?” Ryder asks.
“The photographer won’t be there tonight. He’s out sick.”
“Can you get someone else?” Ryder asks.
“On four hours’ notice?” Miranda turns back to us, frustration radiating off every line of her body. “I doubt anyone halfway decent is available tonight.”
I watch the tension build in her shoulders and the way her fingers tap against her phone. Calculations are running overtime, trying not to spiral as she racks her brain for a solution.
“Alice could do it,” Ryder says.
Both Miranda and I turn to stare at him.
Miranda’s lip upturns. “What?”
“Alice could take the photos.” Ryder gestures toward me. “She has a professional camera. She’s good at it.”
Miranda’s gaze lands on me, immediate dismissal in her eyes. “Alice can’t do it.”
“Why not?” Ryder challenges.
“Because she skipped every photography class this week.” Disappointment gives Miranda’s voice a hardened edge. “How can she handle taking professional photos when she can’t even manage to attend a simple class?”
Heat floods my face. It’s a good point.
“She used to take professional photos,” Ryder counters. “For loads of important events. Weddings, hello? She knows what she’s doing.”
Miranda’s eyebrow arches skeptically, and she taps her phone against her chin, taking a beat before responding.
“Alice was taking photos of me upstairs,” Ryder’s voice gains confidence. “They were really good.”
Miranda’s expression shifts, suspicion creeping in. “Upstairs? When you were practicing, or instead of it?”
Ryder huffs and rolls his eyes. “Forget the practicing for one second. I’m telling you, the girl is good.”
“Forget the practicing?” Miranda scoffs. “I’m sorry. Is this the same Ryder Hamilton I signed on as a client, or not? Because the musician I know lives only for the music.”
“I do.” Ryder sits taller. “I do, and Alice can capture my music in a single shot. Do you remember the photo I posted of me sitting by a pond? Remember how the promotions guys went on and on about the spike in engagement?” Ryder gestures at me. “Alice took that shot. I’m telling you, she’s good.”
