Page 3 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
I have you somehow.
I mull over the words, feeling something off about the timing and phrasing.
My fingers itch by the phone’s keypad, and it dawns on me how to fix it.
To love you then,
And love you now,
Another chance when,
You’re here somehow.
I drop the phone with a sigh, wondering how Wyatt could possibly be back here one day. I sit up and pan around my array of posters, paparazzi candid snaps, and professional event photos that I have plastered on my walls. I reach over and trace around the line of polaroids we took three years ago. The one where he’s kissing my cheek still makes me blush.
When I started sixth grade was one of the best times of my life. Wyatt joined my class because was held back and needed to repeat sixth grade. He was nervous, shy, and a bit of a loner. I gravitated to him right away, and was thrilled when our teacher asked me to help tutor him. I’ve always loved reading and writing, and he was one of the first people I ever shared my short stories with. The more eager he got to hear me read something I wrote, the more enamored with him I became.
My gut cramps and I slouch forward. Deep down, I know the idea of amnesia hurts so badly because I’ve spent the last two years fearing he’s already forgotten me. I don’t hold it against him that he stopped replying to my texts. It was a whirlwind when I got messages or photos after he won his season of Talent Quest. When recording studios and movie sets became the norm for him, I can see why he got too busy for his former life.
I pick my phone back up, feeling another stanza simmering inside me.
In my heart near,
Body too far,
An ache it sear,
Longing for the star.
It’s okay that he stopped catching up with me because I’ve never stopped following him and his career. I move off the bed and place my phone on my desk as I wake my laptop. It’s not healthy, but I can’t help refreshing the news site still loaded on my browser. With much of the same in the headlines, I change tabs to my favorite streaming site that has Wyatt’s movies.
I hover the cursor between ‘No Chance, Goodbye’ and ‘Without You,’ struggling to decide which to watch. In ‘No Chance, Goodbye’ he plays a popular, jock-type who’s forced into a volunteering role with a bookish, goody-goody type. They start out as enemies, and of course, end up in love.
In ‘Without You’ he’s a sensitive and sweet guy who gets dumped by his ultra pretty girlfriend and tries a list of grand gestures to get her back, until he realizes his best friend was the girl he wanted all along. In ‘Without You’ he’s more the type of guy I remember him being. But ‘No Chance, Goodbye’ is an absolute crack-up. And right now, I think I need a good laugh.
Just as I’m about to hit play, I’m startled into a jolt.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
The harsh vibration from my phone grinds against the woodgrain of my desk. I frown at the private number and hit decline.
“Not today, telemarketer.”
I settle back on my desk chair, and I’m interrupted by another call. The private number calls another two times, and on the third ring, I give in.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hi, is this Josie Bartlett?” asks a female voice.
“Umm, yes. Who’s asking?”
“My name is Erika Hartley from Circle 8 Management, the team that represents Wyatt Hayes.”
The air is snuffed out of me. I choke and bang a fist onto my chest.
Wyatt?
“Josie? Are you there?”
