Chapter 23 #2
Ryder crosses the room and settles onto the window seat.
Through the glass behind him, the sky is heavy with clouds, gray and brooding.
A storm is building on the horizon. Ryder looks uncertain in his pose.
His hands rest awkwardly on his knees, and somehow his nervousness relaxes me.
I take a settling breath, knowing the storm isn’t here yet.
“Just... relax,” I say, raising the camera. “You don’t have to pose.”
“That’s easier said than done when someone’s pointing a camera at you.”
“Pretend I’m not here.”
“Kind of hard when you’re three-feet away.”
It makes me whisper a laugh. “Then pretend the camera isn’t here. Just sit like you normally would.”
Ryder shifts, leaning back against the window frame.
One knee drawn up, the other leg stretched out.
Through the viewfinder, he looks different.
The navy button-down shirt is wrinkled and untucked.
Two silver chains catch the muted light at his throat.
The overcast sky behind him casts everything in soft, diffused light.
No harsh shadows, just gentle gradations of gray.
His dark hair is tousled, as if he’s run his hands through it too many times today.
The ripped jeans complete the picture. Unpolished, like the rockstar he was born to be.
I take the first shot. Click.
“Can you look out the window?” I ask softly. “Not at me.”
He turns his head, and the light illuminates his profile. The strong line of his jaw. The slight furrow between his brows like he’s thinking about something.
Click. Click.
“These are good,” I murmur, checking the preview screen.
“You can tell already?”
“The light’s perfect. Soft, not harsh.” I pause, looking at him properly. “You look real.”
“As opposed to fake?”
“As opposed to performing.” I lower the camera to look at him properly. “In those marketing photos, there’s this layer. Like you’re playing a character. But this is just you.”
Something shifts in Ryder’s expression. “I didn’t realize you’d been paying that much attention.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I pay attention.”
The air between us charges. Heavier than a moment ago.
I raise the camera again, needing the barrier. “Can you look down? At your hands or something?”
Ryder’s gaze drops, and I capture the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks.
The vulnerable slope of his neck. The silver chains glint against the navy fabric of his shirt.
I move closer without thinking, adjusting my angle.
Then closer still. Through the window behind Ryder, I catch the storm clouds gathering darker as they move closer.
The sky has that expectant quality it gets before rain.
But at this moment, everything feels suspended.
“You’re really good at this,” Ryder says quietly, not looking up.
“I’m just taking pictures.”
“No.” He raises his eyes to meet mine, and I freeze with my finger on the shutter button. “You’re seeing something. That’s different.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I take the shot instead. Click.
Through the viewfinder, Ryder is looking directly at me now. Not at some distant point, or lost in thought. At me. And the intensity in his gaze makes my hands unsteady.
I lower the camera slowly.
“Your shirt collar,” I say, my voice coming out rougher than intended. “It’s sticking up on one side.”
Ryder reaches up to fix it, fumbling with the fabric. “Like this?”
“No, the other...” I trail off, frustrated. “Here, let me.”
I set the camera on my desk and cross the distance between us.
It’s not until I’m standing directly in front of him, my fingers reaching for his collar, that I realize how close we are.
The window seat puts him at the perfect height, making us almost at eye level.
My hand brushes against the fabric of his shirt, smoothing down the collar where it’s folded wrong.
“There,” I whisper.
But I don’t step back.
My hands still rest against his collar, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric. This close, I see everything. The slight stubble along his jaw, the way his breathing has changed, and the silver chains rising and falling against his chest.
“Alice.” My name comes out quiet, almost careful.
I should move. I should pick up my camera and return to the safety of the lens between us.
Instead, my hands slide from his collar to rest against his chest. Under my palm, I feel his heartbeat. It’s quick and strong, matching my own.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit, my voice barely audible.
“That’s okay.” Ryder’s hands come up slowly, hovering near my waist but not quite touching, as if he’s giving me every opportunity to pull away. “Neither do I.”
“This morning I was at therapy. I was given the police report for the first time. I couldn’t even read it.
” The words spill out desperately. “The lines were jumbled and blurred. Just like they do at school. I used to be really good at school. I was a good student. I’m not someone who walks out before classes are over. ”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve only seen this mess.”
“You’re not a mess.” His hands finally settle on my waist, gentle and grounding. “You’re hurting.”
“I feel like I’m underwater and I can’t tell which way is up.”
“Then let me help you find the surface.”
His thumb brushes against my side, just above my hip, and the simple touch sends ripples of warmth through me.
“I think I might be using you,” I whisper, the confession tearing out of me. “To feel something other than broken.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should care.”
“Maybe.” His other hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. “But I don’t.”
I lean into his touch without meaning to, and my eyes flutter closed. His palm is comforting against my face.
“Look at me,” Ryder says softly.
I open my eyes and find him watching me with an expression that’s tender, wanting, and careful all at once.
“I like you,” he says simply. “I know the timing is terrible. I know you’re dealing with more than anyone should have to. But I like you, Ally. And I think—I hope—you might like me too.”
My heart is racing so fast I feel dizzy. “I don’t know if what I’m feeling is real or if I’m just desperate not to be alone.”
“That’s okay.”
“It’s not fair to you.”
“Let me decide what’s fair to me.” His thumb continues its gentle path across my cheekbone. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”
“But what if I’m wrong?” my voice cracks. “What if I’m reading this all wrong and you’re just being nice to me because you feel bad?”
“Alice.” He waits until I meet his eyes. “Does this feel like I’m just being nice?”
His hand is still cradling my face. My hands still press against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. We’re inches apart, breathing the same air, and the tension between us is so thick it’s almost suffocating.
“No,” I whisper.
“Then stop overthinking it.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Then let me help.” He leans in slowly, giving me every opportunity to pull away. To say no. To stop this before it becomes something we can’t take back.
But I don’t stop it.
His forehead touches mine first, and we stay like that for a moment. The first drops of rain hit the window. Soft at first, then building into a steady patter.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs against my lips.
I nod without needing words.
“Tell me if it’s not.” His breath is warm on my face. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
Instead of answering, I close the last inch between us.
The kiss is soft at first. Cautious, like we’re both testing to see if this is real, or if we’ll pull away and pretend it never happened. But then Ryder’s hand slides into my hair, and I make a small sound before the kiss deepens.
It’s not the passionate, all-consuming kiss I’ve read about in books. It’s slow and questioning, like we’re both learning what this is. His lips are softer than I expected.
Outside, the rain intensifies. It’s drumming against the window, but I barely hear it over the sound of my own heartbeat. His silver chains press cold against my fingers where my hands have fisted in his shirt.
I don’t know how long we kiss. Time feels irrelevant. All I know is the pressure of his mouth on mine, and the way his thumb strokes against my jaw. When our lips break apart, it’s only by inches. Ryder’s forehead rests against mine, both of us breathing harder than we should be.
“Okay?” he whispers.
I nod because articulating what I’m feeling seems impossible. The confusion, the guilt, the comfort, and the desperate need to feel something other than grief.
The rain pounds harder against the window, and Ryder pulls back slightly to look at me, his hand still cradling my face.
“The storm.” Concern flickers across his expression. “Are you okay? I know thunder scares you.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper, surprised to find it’s true. The fear that usually grips me at the first rumble of thunder is... distant. Muffled beneath everything else I’m feeling.
His thumb brushes across my cheekbone. “You sure? We can move away from the window if…”
“I’m okay,” I repeat, more firmly this time. “With you here, I’m okay.”
Ryder searches my face. “With me?”
I hesitate, my hands still fisted in his shirt. “Yeah, I think so.”
“That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.” His tone is light, but there’s vulnerability in his eyes.
“I don’t know what anything means right now,” I reply. “But the storm is happening and I’m not having a panic attack. So... yeah. Maybe with you.”
His expression eases, and he opens his mouth to say something, but my stomach chooses that exact moment to growl. Loudly.
We both freeze.
Then Ryder’s lips twitch. “Was that...?”
Heat floods my face. “I need to eat.”
He smiles. “You want to eat?”
I nod, the corners of my lips curving upward. “Mm-hmm. Do you want to go to the kitchen with me?”
Ryder’s eyes light up. “Are you going to cook again?”
“Nothing too extravagant.”
Ryder grasps my hand as he peels off the window seat. He sniggers, looking over at my bed. “Dang. Was Ellie watching us the whole time?”
I snort a laugh, playfully hitting his chest. “You goof.”
“I mean, it’s weird, right?” he jokes, moving past the bed with me. “Was she just staring at us while we made out?”
I laugh again, but feel the intensity of my blush. I know it’s just a stuffed animal, but the thought of someone watching me with Ryder, in an intimate moment, has all my alarm bells ringing.
Ryder must feel the shift in me, and his hand leaves mine.
“You good?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm,” I squeak.
Good. Yes, the kiss was good. What this means, who the heck knows?