Page 31 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
It’s a text from Kylie.“Are you with Wyatt? We need visual proof!”
I cup a hand around my eyes and sigh. “Kylie and her boyfriend are pestering me about getting a photo with you.”
“Kylie has a boyfriend?”
I nod. “They’re cute together, despite the toxic start to their relationship.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
Beep, beep.
There’s another text from her, wanting updates and selfies. Can I even send her a photo? I mean, I’ve signed a document, promising not to spread information about Wyatt. Did that include photos? Dang it. I should’ve read the NDA. Kylie would never share the photo, but who knows who else could see it and share it with the wrong people.
“Kylie wants a photo of us.” I lift my phone on camera mode and frame myself with part of his shoulder and ear. “I’ll just hide your face.”
I snap the photo and Wyatt says, “Hang on. Take it again.”
As my hand presses against the shutter button, Wyatt leans in and kisses my cheek, perfectly captured in the frame.
I giggle, lowering my phone. “Well, I’m definitely not sharing that one.”
As I touch the spot where the warmth from his kiss lingers, he whispers, “It feels like yesterday when I last kissed you.”
“Umm...” it comes out of me shakily as I hesitate to respond.
Yes, he’s the Wyatt I remember, but he’s also a freaking movie star.
Wyatt frowns, pulling back. “But you must have a boyfriend.”
Unintentionally, I laugh out loud.
He blinks, apprehensively grinning at me. “What?”
I press a hand to my lips, settling my laughter. “Umm, sorry. It’s just me, having a boyfriend. It’s laughable.”
His brow raises in surprise. “How is it? Look at you. You were pretty before, but you’re drop-dead-gorgeous now.”
My chin drops as all my muscles seize. Wyatt Hayes thinks I’m gorgeous.
Sure, a few years ago, I might have bought it. But now? I’ve seen him with popstars on his arm and kissing super model-esque actresses in movies.
He scoops a hand into my curls and cups his hand behind my neck. “You’re really single?”
“Yes,” I whisper, breathless. “I’ve never been on a real date.”
His teeth graze his bottom lip as he smiles. “Really?”
I blush and nod.
Whoa. He’s so freaking close.
“A lot has happened to you since we last saw each other,” I whisper, searching his lips that have been on other girls’ lips.
His hand runs down my shoulder and he collects my hands in his. “What we have isn’t in the past tense.”
I shiver and feel my stomach flip. “But we haven’t stayed in contact.”
“I was obviously an idiot,” he replies. “It’s a mountain of a mistake I need to make up for.”
