Page 42 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
I blink back the threat of tears that could tumble at any moment.
Ryder huffs in defeat. “Okay, let’s book it.”
My breath hitches in my throat. “What?”
“You’re already trying to get out of your last class for the day. If you don’t want to be stuck in town all night, let’s go.”
“Will Miranda be home?”
Ryder nods. “Yeah. It’d be awesome if you refused to tutor me, okay?”
I cringe. “You want me to create a scene?”
Ryder smirks. “It’s easy for you. Just break something.”
I grit my teeth and dig my fingernails into my wounded palms.
Ryder rolls his eyes and pushes on my shoulder. “Lighten up, it was a joke. Can we go now?”
I turn so his hand will get off my shoulder. “Fine. I’m too tired to care, anyway.”
Ryder ushers me to follow him, like he’s worried I’ll change my mind. I guess making me almost cry left him feeling guilty.
Doesn’t make being around him any easier. The car ride is suffocating.
Ryder angles his body toward the window the moment we get in, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping, and he puts earbuds in.
I sit as far from him as possible, my backpack clutched in my lap like a shield. The driver glances at us in the rearview mirror but says nothing about the obvious tension.
My head pounds with every curve of the mountain road. The aspirin I took this morning has worn off completely, and the stress of the day has turned the pain into something vicious. There’s a pressure behind my eyes that makes me want to close them and never open them.
But my racing thoughts keep me alert.
I steal a glance at Ryder. He’s staring out the window, and one hand taps against his thigh in rhythm to whatever music is playing in his ears.
I can’t believe he actually wanted to leave me stranded at school. It’d be one thing if we lived in Victoria Falls, but we’re fifteen miles out of town. That’s not walkable even if I didn’t have these freaking mountains to deal with.
Ugh. It’s just so mean.
We haven’t seen each other in over twenty-four hours, but he still has such horrible reactions to just the thought of me.
When we finally pull up to Miranda’s house, Ryder is out of the car before it fully stops. He doesn’t wait for me, or hold any doors. Just stalks toward the house with his backpack slung over one shoulder.
I hurry to keep up, my own backpack weighing me down. I catch the heavy front door just before it closes. Ryder is already pacing the hallway, his movements agitated. I have no desire tofollow him. All I want is to get to my room, lie down in the dark, and let this headache consume me.
But then I hear Miranda’s voice.
“Ryder? Is that you?”
I freeze.
Miranda appears from the sitting room, her phone in hand. She’s dressed in another sharp suit, and there’s surprise in her expression when she sees both of us.
“You’re home early,” she says, her eyes settling on Ryder. “That’s interesting, considering you’ve already missed quite a few classes.”
Ryder moves to pace in front of the fireplace. “The music is more important right now, Miranda. We have two weeks until the showcase.”
“The music is always important, Ryder.” Miranda sets her phone down on the glass coffee table. “But Mr. Kensington was very clear about his expectations. Especially after the conversations we had yesterday.”
