Page 152 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
“You still got the lyrics? I think I’m ready to practice now.”
I pull my arms from around him and lift the paper. Wyatt gets up and rounds the couch. I’m about to ask where he’s going when, from behind the couch, I see him pick up the guitar that sits against the dining table from earlier today.
He lifts the guitar strap over his head and plucks the pick from between the strings. “Can you hit play on the song Portia sent?”
“You sure you want to hear it again?”
“I just want to hear the music.”
I hit play and Wyatt bops his head as he listens to the tune. He begins to strum, and he picks up the rhythm as their voices come through the phone.
His eyes are closed as he still wears the glasses, strumming the guitar. He starts murmuring the lyrics, having heard them in the recordings. He focuses on playing the guitar, nailing the chords better than the words he needs to memorize.
The more he practices the lyrics, with me standing by him holding the sheet of paper, he tries putting emphasis on different words. His brow furrows and he shakes his head. I’m worried another headache is building, but he sighs, showing it’s just utter frustration.
He moves away from the dining table, pacing as he strums.
“Maybe you should take a rest?” I suggest.
He has his back to me as he continues to pace. “Just a minute,” he mumbles.
More lyrics sing out of him, but I don’t recognize them from the song. I look down at the paper, assuming I hadn’t read the stanza, but the lines blur as realization sets in.
I gasp and drop the piece of paper. “What are you doing?”
He continues to sing and my heat hammers into overdrive.
Holy cow.
Wyatt turns to face me, smiling as he sings the words with soulful power.
“The space is big enough for me.
One-hundred people fit here.
But I’m only happy when it’s us.
Crowds break my spirit.
Together, we bring the light.”
He’s singing the words from my poem.
And, his voice makes them better.
“How...” I stammer. “How do you remember those words?”
He stops strumming so he can tap the space on his chest over his heart. “They’re your words, Joze. They’ll always be in here.”
“I just... I never... I never expected anyone to sing one of my poems.”
Wyatt’s eyes light up behind his frames. “This is what I was talking about, Josie. Your words have heart. There’s no way anyone could diss a song written by you.”
I gesture at the lyrics on the floor. “But your team wants you to learnthissong.”
“But we can fix it.Youcan fix it.” Wyatt hugs his arms around his guitar. “Those guys have to know the song isn’t working. Imagine how grateful they’ll be when you Josi-fy the song.”
I giggle. “Josi-fy?”
