Page 81 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
He reaches out and envelopes my hand. “Do you trust me? I can take your hand and walk you to the car.”
“Holding hands?”
“Will you let me?” he asks.
I intertwine my fingers with his, because actually saying it’s okay feels like too much.
“Okay,” he whispers, picking up his guitar case with the other hand. “Stay close. We got this.”
I nod even though I doubt I can make it.
Ryder tugs me out from underneath the awning. Our backpacks hit against each other, making the journey feel harder. Ryder lifts the side of his blazer, attempting to cover my head, but I’d much prefer if that hand had stayed glued to mine.
We reach the car, and I’m panting once inside.
Ryder rings some of the water out of his hair and then slides off his soaked blazer. “You okay?”
I follow his lead, removing my blazer and wiping the rain from my face. “I think so. It’s kind of a blur.”
“Well, you did good. I hope you don’t regret coming to Main Street and getting a bite with me.”
I find myself smiling. “No, I don’t regret it. Thanks for buying me a burger.”
He nudges me. “Thanks for eating it.”
There’s a different energy between us on the drive to Miranda’s house. Not just amicable, but a feeling of understanding.
Once inside the house, I wonder whether we can maintain this frictionless exchange. Or will things inevitably go back to our default of sniping at each other? Let’s face it; he was nice to me because he pitied me. The helpless girl, sitting in the rain and looking pathetically sad.
I make my way to the stairs, with Ryder following, when Miranda’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Oh, Ryder,” Miranda calls from the chaise lounge. “I need to discuss your revised setlist.”
Ryder turns off towards her voice, and I amble up the staircase.
Today was exhausting and overwhelming. But sitting at that table, and finding a moment to really talk about my parents and what they were like…
It felt like breathing.
Even when the storm tried to rip my spirit from me, I had someone who literally had my back.
Now, he’s talking to Miranda, who didn’t give a second-thought to asking if I was okay? My hair is a shaggy mess, but my welfare isn’t a priority when her precious client is in her eyesight.
Maybe I can’t fully trust Ryder, but maybe it’s safe to lower my walls around him. He said it felt safe to do that around me. So, maybe if I keep him feeling safe, he might spill Miranda’s secret about my mother.
Fifteen
MirandaandRyder’sdiscussionbled into dinner, so it was easy for me to go unnoticed. That is until Miranda finds me in the sitting room, curled up on an armchair with my chemistry textbook on my lap.
“There you are, darling.” Miranda’s heels click against the hardwood as she approaches, holding her leather-bound planner. “I wanted to go over a few things with you.”
I look up, immediately wary. I’m not the one she usually goes over plans with.
She settles onto the sofa across from me, elegantly crossing her legs. “First things first, you remember you have therapy on Saturday morning, yes?”
Begrudgingly, I nod.
“Ten a.m. at Dr. Novak’s office. She comes highly recommended, and I’ve organized the driver for you,” Miranda continues, making a note in her planner. “After everything you’ve been through, it will help to have someone professional to talk to.”
