Page 91 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“I doubt she’ll take any of the school’s calls,” Ryder replies. “No offence, but she doesn’t prioritize the school over business.”
“Oh, I got that. But you didn’t see the way she looked at me last night.” I sigh, letting my gaze fall to the floor. “And the awful things she said.”
Ryder steps forward and tucks his fingers underneath my chin, gently lifting it upward. “Exactly why Miranda doesn’t call the shots today. Besides, it’s Friday; basically the weekend anyway.”
I suck in a breath, fixating on his pupils. “What about your essay? It’s due today.”
Ryder mumbles a laugh, slipping his hand away from my chin. “Girl, relax. I’ll upload it to the school portal. Just needs to be done before school finishes for the day.”
My shoulders relax a millimeter. “Okay. So maybe we can polish it before you turn it in?”
His eyebrow arches. “You want to do schoolwork?”
“Miranda questioned whether I could actually tutor you. Ugh. She actually implied my parents bribed my previous school to fake my grades. How crazy is that?”
Ryder shakes his head. “Forget all that noise. You don’t need to worry about Ashworth Academy and all its BS. Instead, why don’t we head downstairs for breakfast?”
The mention of breakfast makes my stomach churn. The thought of sitting in Miranda’s formal dining room, putting on a show of pretending to eat scrambled eggs, is too exhausting to imagine.
“Oh, I don’t think I could eat right now,” I fumble for an excuse and get off the chaise lounge. “Anytime I oversleep, it takes me ages to get my appetite. Weird quirk, I know.”
“Alice, are you really…”
“I really should head to my room and shower,” I cut him off, folding the heavy blanket. “I need to change. I feel so gross.”
“Yeah, okay. But do you really not...”
“Want to meet at the library?” I interrupt again with extra fake cheer in my voice. “We can work on your essay.”
Ryder nods, seemingly getting off the breakfast topic. “Yeah, the library. No problem.”
I’m still a little woozy as I stumble around the furniture, waving off Ryder when he shifts to help me. “It’s cool, I didn’t trip. See you soon, okay?”
He nods, and I’m quick to leave his bedroom. My heart punches its way out of my ribs on the journey through the quiet hallway. Oh my gosh, is this real? Ryder basically watched me sleep, and now we’re staying home to study. A few days ago, you couldn’t have paid me to believe this would happen.
I take longer than usual in the shower. Heck, I’ve got all day. I let the warmth and steam from the shower relax my body, as memories of last night jab me with unwanted tension.
Everything is so topsy-turvy. I would never have guessed Ryder came from a working-class background. The attitude of belonging at Ashworth Academy drips off him. Even worse, Miranda is making him attend that school, and it’s bleeding his family dry. She says Ryder is so precious to her, but she doesn’t give a damn about his family.
Figures.
She sure doesn’t care about her own.
Once out of the shower, I’m grateful not to wear the restrictive Ashworth uniform. For comfort, I wear a pair of light gray sweatpants and dig my feet into fluffy slippers I haven’t been brave enough to wear in front of Miranda. I pick out a pale pink cashmere sweater and pull it over a white tank top.
There’s no doubt our study session will be casual, but there’s a part of me that wants to look cute. I take my time in front of the bathroom mirror, applying glossy watermelon-flavored lip gloss and framing my eyes with lash-extending mascara. A knot ties in my chest as I take in my appearance. It’s the first time I’ve wanted to wear makeup since the accident. Even if the effort is small, I have to admit; it makes me feel slightly human again.
Without humoring the idea of getting something to eat, I make my way to the library. When I push open the doors, I’m surprised by what I find.
Ryder sits at the large mahogany table with his tablet, books, and pens. But there’s a distinct smell in the room. A food smell. In the middle of the table are two white paper bags, along with cups of what smells like coffee.
“What’s all this?” I ask, settling into my chair.
“Lunch,” Ryder replies. “Or brunch, I guess, since we missed breakfast.”
“We?”
“Yeah, you said you didn’t want to eat right away.”
