Page 20 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“I’m sorry.”
He points at the desk. “Stop apologizing and sit down.”
“But you don’t want me here,” I whisper. “You’ve made that really clear.”
Ryder grits his teeth and manages, “It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“Dude, let her go,” Brooks says with a smirk. “She obviously can’t handle it.”
“Yeah, if the charity case wants to run away…” Chase starts.
“Shut up,” Ryder snaps at them, but he’s still glaring at me. “Both of you, out.”
“What?” Chase looks surprised. “You wanted us here.”
“And now I want you gone.” Ryder doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Get out.”
“Dude, you sure?” Brooks asks, standing slowly. “Because she looks like she’s about to cry, and that’ll be super awkward.”
“I said, get out.”
“Whatever, man.” Brooks twirls his drumsticks. “Good luck with the scared little mouse.”
Chase grabs his bass case, pausing at the door. “Don’t let her break anything else, Hamilton.”
They laugh as they leave, the door closing behind them with a soft click.
I’m still frozen, with my materials clutched to my chest like a shield.
Ryder crosses his arms, looking at me with barely contained frustration. “Sit. Down.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, moving back toward the table. My hands shake so badly I nearly drop everything. “I wasn’t trying to... I didn’t mean to...”
“Just sit.”
I sink into the chair, setting my materials down in a messy pile. Nothing is organized anymore. The crumpled worksheets are acting like a small rug. I’m too scared to pick them up, and instead I shiver in place.
Ryder scoops the papers from the floor and dumps them on the table. He then drops into the chair across from me with a heavy sigh.
My eyes itch with the threat of tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.”
I press my lips together, staring at the table.
“Look, I could be doing something much better with my time,” Ryder says pointedly. “But I need to get these teachers off my back. So just write the English essay for me so I can pass.”
A small gasp hiccups out of me, and I shake my head as if I didn’t hear him correctly. “Write it for you? That’s not how this works. You can’t plagiarize…”
“Miranda doesn’t care if I do the work,” Ryder interrupts. “She just needs Kensington off her back too. It’s a win-win.”
“I wasn’t brought here just to do your assignments.”
Ryder smirks. “Oh, weren’t you?”
His words sting, and a small tear escapes my eye. “Miranda’s my family. That’s why she took me in.”
“And the fact that she saw your academic records had nothing to do with it?”
