Page 193 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
Wyatt grins. “Totally.”
We dawdle around the park, mine and Wyatt’s pace lagging behind the others. I smile as Kylie and Parker hold hands and zigzag their way along the footpath. They’re in their own little world and infatuated with each other’s company.
“They’re really cute together,” Wyatt comments.
“I know. I’m happy for them.”
Wyatt and I stroll along the sidewalk, coming close to a parking lot. My eyes wander across a group of students, who have gotten out of school early. I’m about to turn away, when I hear a gasp and notice one girl hurriedly nudging another.
“Oh my gosh, Wyatt Hayes,” one of the girls shrieks.
The girls bolt toward us, giving me no reaction time to get Wyatt away from them.
One girl’s face is a mismatch of white and red splodges, like she’s about to pass out.
Her friend holds her up, saying, “Holy crap! You’ve come back to town. This is so exciting!”
From a nearby pickup truck, a broad footballer-type plods over to the girls. “Sally, what are you screaming about?”
The girls point at Wyatt, bouncing up and down together. “Look! Look!”
The guy spots Wyatt and then stops dead. He then turns towards the pickup truck he came from. “Roy, Mckinley, get over here!”
Two other burly guys lift their heads with mild interest.
One of the girls points at me. “Oh my gosh! You’re the girl in the video. The one who supposedly goes to our school.”
“Oh, wow!” the other girl gasps. “It totally is. Why have we never seen you before?”
“Totally,” the first girl says. “I was like, they’re lying. I remember saying, I’ve never seen that girl in my life.”
“Yo, Sally,” the broad guy says, edging closer. “How are you talking to Wyatt Hayes right now?”
“Hello,” she replies with an eye roll. “We went to school together, remember?”
Broad guy laughs. “Of course, I remember. I’m not a dumbass.”
At that, something triggers Wyatt and his expression quirks into a hardened frown. “You didn’t want to know me when I went to your school.”
“Sure, we did,” they all reply.
Wyatt shakes his head slowly. “No. I was the dumb kid who got held back a grade. Besides one person, no one wanted to know me.”
“That’s not true,” one girl blurts. “We, like, totally remember youfrom school talent shows.”
“Do you?” Wyatt’s eyes turn to slits. “Or do you remember the footage of a talent show that was played on national TV?”
I jolt backwards.
How does he know that?
The girls glance at each other, uttering syllables.
Wyatt shakes his head. “I thought so.”
“Dude, we were there,” the broad guy says, folding his arms. “You just don’t remember us being in the same class.”
“I remember getting DMs after I won from people, who by all rights, used to hate my guts.”
