Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
I barely saw Ryder after the show.
One minute he was on stage, looking at me like I was the only person in the room. The next minute, men in suits surrounded him, sweeping into a VIP room I wasn’t invited to enter.
A woman from the Kensington Entertainment Group’s marketing team found me by the merch table. She had blue-black hair, a faded Nirvana T-shirt under a blazer, and ripped skinny jeans.
“Miranda said you got some incredible shots for us,” she said, holding out her hand for my camera. “Mind if I swipe the SD card? We’ll get it back to you. We just want to get them approved for socials ASAP while the buzz is hot.”
I handed it over, and she told me I’d be credited in the captions. She didn’t ask for my social handle, even though I don’t have one to give. But I shrugged it off, figuring they’d use my first and last name as the photographer.
The drive home was excruciating. Miranda in the front on her phone, and Ryder beside me in the back, also on the phone. He spent Sunday locked in meetings I could only hear through closed doors.
Now, back in the car on Monday morning, the word awkward doesn’t do the silence justice.
Ryder shifts beside me, and his pinky brushes against mine in a tentative and questioning gesture.
It should feel electric, like it did in my bedroom, right before we kissed. Instead, it feels wrong. Almost performative. Like he’s checking a box.
I pull my hand away, pretending to adjust my backpack.
“Hey,” he says quietly, and when I glance at him, he’s giving me a weak smile. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“Yesterday was...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “The marketing team loved your photos, by the way. They’ve already posted some of them.”
My stomach flips. “They have?”
“Yeah. I’ll show you.”
He pulls out his phone and starts to show me, but I turn away.
“Don’t. I don’t want to look right now.”
He pockets the phone. “Okay. Are you mad or something?”
I turn to face him. “Mad? No, I just didn’t see you yesterday. And after the performance… I don’t know. You sang ‘Static,’ and I just… I just thought…”
He scoops up my hand. “I wanted to see you. Of course, I sang that song for you. I thought you knew that.”
“I did, but…”
He huffs, slouching in his seat. His knees fall out wide as his long legs take up most of the space in front of us.
“It sucks we didn’t spend more time together, but you know the showcase is coming up.
The guys and I got so much face-time with the suits this weekend.
We might get a better deal before the show on Friday. ”
“Really?”
Ryder nods enthusiastically. “Ally, I’m serious. This is a big deal, and I need to focus right now.”
Something about the way he says it makes me queasy. “Then let go of my hand.”
He drops my hand as if it were a live grenade. “Why?”
“You just said you need to focus.”
“Yeah, I do. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want you by my side.”
I look down at where our hands had just connected. “I want to be by your side too. I just... I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“This.” I gesture between us. “Whatever this is. We kissed, and then you disappeared into meetings. And now we’re going to school where everyone already thinks I’m using you for clout, and…”
“Hey.” He waits until I look at him. “Saturday night was real. The kiss was real. Me wanting you there was real.”
“But yesterday…”
“Yesterday sucked,” he admits. “I hated being stuck in those meetings when all I wanted was to talk to you about the performance.”
Something in my chest loosens. “Really?”
“Really.” He reaches for my hand again, more carefully this time. “Can we just... try to get through today? Together?”
I look at his hand, and then at his face. The weak smile is gone, replaced with something more earnest.
“Together,” I echo, and this time when our fingers intertwine, there’s a spark.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For Saturday. For the photos. For being there.”
“You already thanked me.”
“I know, but I mean it. I played better with you there. I think I’ll always play better with you around.”
The car slows as we approach Ashworth Academy. Through the window, there’s the usual morning chaos with clusters of students and the buzz of weekend gossip.
“Ready?” Ryder asks, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
Not even close, but I nod anyway.
We walk into English class together, and the shift in the room is immediate. I swear both the whispers and the turning of heads are causing small gusts of wind in every direction.
Ms. Patterson is writing on the board, but when her gaze lands on Ryder, her expression pinches with disappointment.
“Mr. Hamilton,” she says, halting him from making it further into the classroom. “A word?”
Ryder stops dead. “Now?”
“Now.”
When he moves closer to Ms. Patterson’s desk, she says, “I’m very displeased that you didn’t submit your essay on Friday.”
My stomach drops.
He didn’t turn it in?
“I know, I’m sorry,” Ryder says with mild regret. “Things got crazy with the showcase prep, and I—“
“I understand you have commitments outside of school,” Ms. Patterson interrupts, her tone firm but not unkind.
“But this is your education. Your future.” She sighs hard and her gaze lands on me.
“I knew Alice being your tutor wasn’t a wise choice, considering the unfortunate circumstances of her arrival. ”
The blood drains from my face.
Right at that moment, Chloe walks past Ms. Patterson’s desk and squawks, “What unfortunate circumstances?”
The classroom goes quiet, and every eye turns to me.
“Chloe, sit down,” Ms. Patterson says, but the damage is done.
“No, seriously,” Chloe presses, settling into her seat. “What circumstances? Like, did something happen?”
“It’s personal,” Ms. Patterson says firmly, but her attempt to shut down the conversation only makes it worse.
“Oh my gosh, what happened?” someone asks from the back row.
“Is that why she transferred mid-year?”
“I heard she got kicked out of her old school.”
“No, I heard she moved here to be closer to Ryder.”
The speculation builds, voices overlapping each other, and my chest constricts.
They can’t know. They can’t find out about Mom and Dad. I can already imagine the pity, the questions, and the way they’ll dissect my grief like it’s gossip.
“Everyone, settle down,” Ms. Patterson says, but the chatter continues.
My breathing is coming too fast. The room is tilting.
“Alice?” Ryder leans closer, his hand reaching for my wrist. “Are you okay? You look really pale.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. The walls are closing in.
I push past him and bolt out of the classroom. The hallway is empty, but I still can’t breathe. I press my back against the wall, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor with my head between my knees.
Four counts in. Hold. Four counts out.
But it’s not working.
The door opens, and I hear footsteps.
“Alice.” Ryder crouches down beside me. “Hey, look at me. Look at me.”
I force my eyes up to meet his.
“Four counts,” he says firmly. “With me. In—two, three, four.”
I try to follow, and my breathing stutters.
“Hold—two, three, four.”
My lungs burn.
“Out—two, three, four.”
We do it again. And again. Until my breathing slows and the panic recedes.
“There you go,” Ryder says softly. “You’re okay.”
I’m not okay. Nothing about this is okay.
“How can I go back in there?” I whisper.
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. I have to.” I press my hands against my face. “I can’t keep running away. I can’t keep being the girl who can’t handle anything.”
“Alice, after what just happened...”
“What just happened is exactly why no one can know,” I cut him off, my voice sharp. “Do you see what they’re like? They heard one vague comment about ‘circumstances’ and turned it into a feeding frenzy.”
“Maybe if they knew the truth, they’d be more sympathetic.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Sympathetic? Ryder, these are the same people who called me a stalker. Who made up rumors about me breaking your equipment on purpose? Do you think they’ll suddenly become kind and understanding if they find out my parents died?”
“It might help them understand why—“
“No.” I shake my head violently. “They’ll make it worse. They’ll turn it into gossip. ‘Did you hear about the orphan girl?’ ‘No wonder she’s such a mess.’ ‘She’s probably using her dead parents for sympathy.’”
Ryder flinches at my words. “They wouldn’t…”
“They absolutely would.” I wipe my face with my sleeve. “I can’t give them that. I can’t let them turn my parents into a story they tell at lunch.”
Ryder’s quiet for a moment, and it’s then memories flash in my mind. I recall him in one breath apologizing for my loss, and in the next breath telling me life goes on.
I blink at him. Is he remembering the same thing?
I push myself off the floor. “I need to go back in there.”
He tries to stop me. “Alice, take it easy.”
“I am.”
“We don’t have to do this. We can skip the rest of—“
“No!” I force myself to stand, my legs unsteady. “I’m done being the flake who ditches. I’m done being the girl who can’t handle school. I want to be a good student again.”
“Alice…”
“I’m going back in.” I straighten my blazer and wipe my face again. “How could you not turn in your essay?”
Ryder stumbles as he stands beside me. “What?”
I shake my head, fury curling my fingers. “Even if you didn’t make the changes I suggested, the draft I read was good enough. Why didn’t you upload it?”
Ryder shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I dunno. More important stuff came up.”
“Miranda is going to lose it.” I pound my chest. “At me.”
He reaches for my shoulder. “I can handle Miranda.”
I bump his hand away. “School is important, too.”
Ryder tilts his head, his gaze lifting to meet mine. “Some heavy stuff came up this weekend.”
I fold my arms. “You said you would hand it in.”
He lifts his hands in defeat. “Well, I didn’t, Alice. I’m a moron. Are you happy?”