Page 60 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
I let the clip play through once. Then again.
By the third time, my breathing has eased, and my body has unclenched.
Miranda’s words have escaped my mind, and I just listen.
Somewhere in the loop of replays, Ryder’s music lulls me to sleep.
Twelve
Thekitchenisemptywhen I walk in the next morning. I grab a banana from the fruit bowl and set my backpack on the granite counter.
I should eat it. I know I should eat it.
I set it down instead and unzip my backpack, checking that everything’s there for school.
Books. Notebooks. Pens.
The camera.
I pull out the padded case and carefully unzip it. My hands move mechanically as I check that I put in the battery. I charged it early this morning when I couldn’t sleep. There’s only so many times that listening to the same song can work.
I check the lens and wipe a smudge off with my sleeve. Everything looks good.
I hold my breath and pop open the SD card slot.
Nothing.
I blow out my breath and rest against the kitchen island, grateful I already took it out.
I didn’t check the screen before I did it, or flip through the photos. It’s just something I can’t fathom doing right now.
I set the camera back in its case and move on to reorganizing my books.
Heavy footsteps near in the hallway, and I don’t need to look up to know they belong to Ryder. Without a word, he moves into the kitchen and straight for the coffee machine.
“What’s that for?” he asks while stabbing at buttons on the machine.
My stomach clenches, wishing I’d already hidden the camera in my backpack. “School.”
Ryder shifts his feet. I refuse to look up at him, but I can tell he’s checking out the camera.
“Oh, yeah?” he says with the mildest hint of curiosity. “You take photography?”
Yes, but I haven’t stepped foot inside my photography classroom all week. “Mm-hmm.”
Ryder clangs his travel mug against the coffee machine. “It’s an impressive-looking unit. The photographer from last night’s shoot had something similar. Heck, it looks a lot better than the school camera you cracked in half.”
My teeth grit so hard that a lightning bolt of pain rushes through my jaw. I sit taller with curled fists and a coiled spine. “That’s why I’m replacing it.”
Ryder sets his mug down with a thud. “Huh?”
I gesture at the camera as if it’s nothing. “I’m giving it to the school. To Jasper.”
“Absolutely not.”
The words come out so sharp, they force me to look up at him. “What?”
“No.” Ryder abandons the coffee machine and faces me fully. “I forbid you to give that moron your camera.”
