Page 119 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
I grin. “That’s amazing. I want that for you. I’ve been telling you all along there’s millions of people who want to hear you play again.”
He winces as he meets my eyes again. “They want the movies more. I still can’t picture myself in front of a camera like that. It doesn’t compute.”
“Do you want to check out a scene from one of your movies? It could help, like how listening to one of your songs helped you relax into this whole celebrity image.”
He sits up, planting a hand against his stomach. “Nuh-uh. I can’t just yet.”
I squeeze his hand back. “Okay, then it’s off the table.”
“You like the movies, though, don’t you? They’re good?”
I grin and nod eagerly. “The best.”
“Those girls in the crowd said the same thing. I just don’t get it.”
“I’m sure it’ll all come back to you.”
He frowns. “They don’t like my new music.Mymusic. The stuff that’s not covers.” He sighs, sinking back down in his seat. “I practiced the covers to become good enough to do my own music. But I’m not good enough on my own. I’m only good at pretending to be other people.”
“That’s not true. The record company gave you songwriters without heart. You just need to find the passion behind the music.”
He swallows hard. “Is that what people think about my music? That it doesn’t have heart?”
I fidget in my seat, finding it hard to look into his beautiful hazel eyes. “People enjoy the music because it’s from you, but... But it just underwhelmed. That’s all.” I grit my teeth hard. “Sorry.”
He shrugs, sitting back. “Don’t be sorry. I asked the question.”
“Maybe this new life experience will bring out the songwriter in you.”
The corners of his mouth tug upward in a weak smile. “Or, maybe this experience brought a songwriter back into my life.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your poetry has more than heart. You could easily be the best songwriter I could find.”
My heart expands, thumping to a heavy beat. “You, you want me to be your songwriter?”
“Why not? There’s no one in my life I trust more than you.”
I chew on my fingernail, staring at the tablecloth. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Sure you do. You’ve been writing as long as I’ve known you.”
I fidget with the beige napkin again. “Your team would already have someone for you to work with.”
“So? They already put me in movies because the music didn’t work. What if it worked with you? What if you help me get out of the movies?”
“What if you give the movies a try and you like it?”
“Why aren’t you even giving this idea a try?”
I sit back with a huff. “Because the idea is terrifying.”
His head tilts. “Why?”
“I already told you, being in this world makes me feel closed off from you. I won’t survive.”
“It’s just writing. Heck, you’ve already won awards from your writing.”
