Page 112 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
“Thank you so much, Wyatt,” one girl gushes, as she and her friend step backwards.
The other girl sneakily lifts her phone and presses the side button. “Yeah.” She giggles. “This was awesome.”
As my stomach fights its way toward my esophagus, I pull the velvet curtain closed. With shaky hands, I force myself to try on the different outfits. I barely look at myself, emerging in my final look, the white knitted crop and purple tartan skirt.
Wyatt’s jaw drops. “Wow, Joze, you look adorable.”
I clasp my hands in front, hoping beyond hope I don’t appear as awkward as I feel.
He takes my hands and notices the clamminess. “Whoa. What’s up? Geez, you look so pale.”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“Joze?”
“Really, I’m fine.”
“Not buying it.”
I sigh hard. “Those girls,” I say, sliding helplessly into awkwardness. “Were you okay with them coming up to you?”
“You mean those two?” he says, looking at the door, signaling they’ve already left the store. “It was harmless.”
“It’s random people wanting a photo with you.”
“You’re the one who reminded me I’m famous.”
“Yeah, I know, but it was your first real interaction with fans. It had to feel intense.”
Wyatt smiles and shrugs. “I dunno. I kinda liked it.”
I brace myself. “You did?”
“Makes sense.” He shrugs again. “How else would I become famous if I didn’t like the attention? I always imagined interacting with people when I used to practice my songs. It’s wild that this is now for real.”
I squeeze his hand, clamminess be damned. “As long as you’re okay.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek. “Well, I’m okay, but clearly you’re not. I hate seeing you so shaken up.”
I sigh again. “I’ll be fine knowing you’re not freaking out.”
He grins. “I swear, I’m not freaking out in the slightest.”
One of the many knots in my stomach unravels.
“So, I hope you’re getting this outfit,” he says, swinging my hands out to the side, “because you look gorgeous.”
“Can I remove the tags?” Marsha asks, sidling up to us. “You can wear it out of the store.”
“That’d be great,” I reply. “And I’ll take the other two outfits too.”
“Excellent,” Marsha says. “I’ll wrap them up and have them delivered to the penthouse.”
“Thanks for your help,” Wyatt says to Marsha. “And nice to see you again, I guess.”
Marsha hums a laugh. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Hayes.”
As Marsha collects the clothes I came into the store wearing, plus my new clothes, Wyatt and I get ready to leave.
