Page 78 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
He frowns. “But I can call mine.”
I sniff, nodding. “You can.”
Ryder lifts his tablet. “How was it?”
“Your essay?” I ask, glad for the topic switch. “Good. Really good, actually. I made some notes about potential improvements, but I think you’ve got a solid start.”
He slides the tablet into his backpack. “Thanks, Alice.”
“I’m curious why you’ve been struggling with English,” I say, eyes wandering to his guitar case. “Did you write the song you played on the Jameson Late Show?”
“Yeah, I did.”
I rub behind my neck, unable to look at his face while I admit, “I’ve listened to it more than a few times and memorized some of the lines. You’re really good with symbolism and metaphors. ‘What We Carry’ is full of that stuff. I thought it’d be right up your alley.”
“Maybe if the sentences were much shorter and put to music,” Ryder jokes. “But seriously, this book is a million years old. It’s just not my style.”
“Okay, I get that.”
“But you’ve really listened to my song more than once?”
I lift my gaze and find curiosity and intrigue written across his face. “Yeah. I may as well call it my new favorite song.”
He sits back, seemingly blown away. “Wow, Alice. That’s really cool.”
The surprise makes me laugh. “Why is that? You’ve had millions of views. This can’t be the first time someone has told you they liked your song.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to.”
I suddenly feel as though I’ve done something wrong. Have I broken one of the many rules he set out for me? “Why?”
“Because I was pretty sure you hated me.”
I hug my middle, needing the comfort when I confess, “I wasn’t sure if I didn’t hate you.”
He laughs. “Fair.”
“But I don’t,” I reply. “I guess you’re just… complicated.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
“Well, you’ve thrown a lot of emotions my way, but now I’m not sure if they were meant for me.”
He shakes his head. “They weren’t. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want my manager getting distracted so close to the showcase.”
“But she’s my aunt. You know I need her.”
“That’s why I was frustrated. If Miranda’s going to suddenly flick on the motherly switch, then my hardlined manager will disappear.”
I sigh. “I don’t think she has the motherly switch.”
Ryder’s hand inches across the table, but then he pulls it back. “I don’t think so either.”
A raindrop hits the back of my hand.
Then another on my cheek.
Ryder looks up at the sky just as a low rumble rolls through the mountains in the distance. The kind that starts quiet and builds, like a monster waking up.
