Page 89 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“When what?”
“When my music took off, things changed.” He looks up at me, and there’s something raw in his dark eyes. “I got talked into some local gigs and gained some attention. All of a sudden, there were opportunities to make it big.”
I stay quiet, unsure of where these admissions are going.
“So they started investing,” Ryder continues, rubbing his palm over his brow. “Small stuff at first. Gas money to drive me to auditions. Then it was better equipment, studio time, professional photos… All the bull.”
“Are your parents upset that you moved here to work on your music?”
“No, of course not. They love that I’m making something of myself.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“All the money they’ve spent doesn’t stop me from messing up,” he confesses. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be carrying Chase and Brooks because I get stage fright on my own. But I’m stuck. If I play on my own, I fall apart.”
“I’m sure your parents are still proud of you. And besides, you’re still young. After a few years, you could move on from the band and—“
“My dad’s hands are destroyed!” he shouts, slamming a fist on the glass coffee table with a hideous smack. “He’s busting hisbutt, operating heavy machinery for sixteen hours a day, while I wear a stupid blazer and tie. All that overtime, with bleeding, callused, permanently damaged hands, and for what? I freeze and fumble my chords if the other guys aren’t playing. I’m a joke.”
“Ryder, don’t say…”
“My mom’s working nights at a diner, on top of her day job at the grocery store,” he continues. “She paused her nursing school plans and used the tuition money to buy me a keyboard.”
I’m dry-heaving, pressing my sweaty palms into my stomach. The sickening flash of that keyboard crashing to the ground and cracking along its side.
Ryder plants his hand on my shoulder, the weight keeping me from spiraling. “I’m not trying to guilt you. It’s just, if you knew where I was coming from...”
“Ryder, I...” I gulp for air. “I had no idea.”
“I know,” he whispers, lifting his hand off me. “I just thought, if you knew my story, maybe it’d kick some of the animosity between us. I don’t want to keep making things tough for you, but I’m fighting for my life too.”
I suck in a breath as a vortex of sickness spirals inside me. “Wait, isn’t Miranda funding your music career? Shouldn’t your parents be getting a break because you moved here?”
“Miranda is just my manager. She’s not financing my career.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Hopefully, if the showcase goes well and we wow Mr. Kensington, then the label will fund our equipment and all the other stuff. But right now, it’s up to me and my family.”
“Is Miranda not doing anything to help?”
“Well, I get to live here,” he says with a shrug. “Besides, Miranda can barely afford to fund her own life.”
I deadpan at him. “What do you mean?”
“I heard she bought this place because it was under foreclosure. It was the only place she could afford.”
“Seriously? Surely she could’ve rented a modest home in town instead of buying this creep-factory.”
Ryder smirks. “I don’t really care about the nitty-gritty. All I know is, with all her years of experience, Miranda is opening doors for me. My parents didn’t have to go along with this. They chose to fund my music career. I just assumed I’d pay them back by now. But, between school and my stupid nerves… Ugh, I feel like I’m drowning.”
I catch his hands in mine. “That’s a feeling I know too well.”
“I’m sorry things between you and Miranda blew up.”
“I’m sorry you have so much on your shoulders. You’re a rockstar. You shouldn’t be shouldering all these burdens.”
“I’m not a rockstar.” His fingers curl around mine. “I had one TV appearance, and I choked.”
“You had a minor quirk at the start. Ryder, I watched it over and over. I noticed the stumble, but it didn’t stop me from loving the performance.”
He frowns. “I hate how easy my mistake was to notice.”
