Page 166 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
“Yes, we can. There was the salesperson at the boutique, the server at the restaurant, and Claire on the Learjet. They all had such wonderful things to say about you. They only knew the famous version of you.”
He looks away, struggling to believe my words.
I turn his head back to face me. “Wyatt, you are loved. You’re a good person, and that’s why you were struggling. The Circle 8 management is already asking too much of you. They were most likely too intense when you were well.”
Wyatt gestures at the journal. “It confirmed my worst fears. I had this bad feeling I was some kind of sellout. And, that’s exactly what I called myself.”
My heart sinks. “Oh, Wyatt.”
He plonks on the bed, lifting the journal onto his lap. He flips through it and lands on a two-page spread of his handwriting. He gulps and hands me the journal. “You gotta read it to me.”
I take the journal and my stomach cramps. “You sure?”
“Looks like I wrote it in a rush. It’s all slanty.” He rubs the spacebetween his eyebrows. “My headache’s burrowing, but I gotta know what it says.”
“Okay, I’ll decipher your crooked writing,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
I sit beside him and read the journal entry aloud. “‘I never thought the second album sales would tank this badly.’” I gulp and look up at him. “Are you sure I should read this?”
He rests his chin on my shoulder and kisses my jaw. “Please.”
I exhale and continue. “‘I guess I should be grateful they’re making enough money that the team still wants to work with me. I’m not being shoved aside like they did to Marcus.’”
“Marcus?” Wyatt questions. “Who was Marcus?”
“Maybe Marcus McGregor?” I suggest. “He used to do the kind of movies you do.”
Wyatt furrows his brow. “Wait, that sounds familiar.”
“Yeah, he was in...”
“Oh, is that guy from ‘Love Switch’?” Wyatt says with recognition. “I remember you making me watch that movie. Ugh. Are my movies as lame as that one?”
I smirk. “‘Love Switch’ isn’t lame. And I love your movies.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wyatt mutters.
“I guess you replaced Marcus when you joined Circle 8.” I continue reading. “‘All I want to do is play music, but they keep forcing me into movie roles. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable. I hate playing a role and having a director tell me to be more believable. None of this is believable.’”
Wyatt sighs. “Dang it. I’m already sick to my stomach at the thought of acting. Now it says I didn’t even like it at the time?”
“Should I continue?”
“Yeah, go on.”
“‘Plus, they’re low budget, streaming movies, so what happens when they runout of appeal? Will I just be out anyway? Do I even want to stay in at this point?
‘The only future I see is playing romantic leads in teen movies until I age out. Who knows if I’ll be believable as I grow older? There’s no way I could stomach making a bedroom scene. I gotta get out of this before it comes to that.’” I drop the journal and turn to him with an open mouth. “Oh my gosh. You really wanted out.”
Wyatt turns ghostly pale and taps the page. “There’s one more paragraph. What does it say?”
I swallow the sickness swirling in my gut and look down at Wyatt’s messy handwriting. “‘Playing along with Portia is the only shot I’ve got. We can be seen at parties and all that stuff because it gets me into the recording studio with her. She’s a bankable star. Movies, modeling campaigns, and albums. Anything she touches is gold. If this duet can get me back on the charts, it’s worth the shot.’”
Wyatt recoils. “Am I using Portia?”
I pull back. “No, you wouldn’t do that.”
Wyatt winces. “Sounds like I am.”
