Ryder
All I wanted was a few weeks of break from the limelight, fans, ruthless paps, and my greedy label.
Time to breathe, recuperate, and maybe find my love for music again.
That was the plan, anyway.
At least it was until a pocket-sized young lady with the attitude of a caffeine-fueled warrior knocked on my cabin door and grudgingly asked for help. I initially thought she was a fan pretending to hate me, but no.
She really does hate me with every fiber of her being. She finds nothing impressive about me. She thinks I’m pretentious.
This firecracker is completely at my mercy, though living under my roof for free, eating meals I made, and waiting for me to fix her car that’s older than both of us combined.
Yet, I can’t deny the magnetic pull I have toward her. She awakens something in me, making me feel as though I’ve found something I didn’t know I was looking for. She’s like the final piece of the puzzle, finally slotting into place.
But my world and hers are chasms apart. There’s no question that I’ll choose her over my career.
The real question is, will she do the same?
Is she willing to trade her quiet life for a chaotic one with me?
