Page 53 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
Nine
When Wyatt finished his session in the clinic’s gym, Savanna made him get back into the wheelchair for the journey back to his room. Savanna asked if I wanted to help him back to the fifth floor, and I barely let her finish the sentence before blurting, “Yes!”
Wyatt is happy taking control of the wheelchair, and I hang by the rear handles, just in case. We make it into the elevator without a hitch. Not much could go wrong when the security guard follows our every move. When he boards the elevator with us, my throat closes in.
Thankfully, security hangs back while we travel across the fifth floor, giving us some breathing room. Relief washes through me when we’re back inside Wyatt’s room, out of eyesight of the looming man.
“Umm,” I falter, watching Wyatt climb onto his bed. “That guy...back there.”
“You mean, the security?”
“Yeah, umm...”
“Why?” Wyatt asks, giving me a smirk.
“Yeah,” I say, pacing toward the bed. “What the heck?”
Wyatt shrugs. “I dunno. They just said I have a high profile and it was a precaution.”
“It just freaks me out. Like they’re waiting for something bad to happen.”
“Something bad already happened,” he says, tapping the side of his head. “Besides, he keeps the manager out. For all I care, he can stay indefinitely.”
I smile at the thought. “Yeah, he really gave Erika the business outside the gym.”
“Pretty great, huh? All those people are just noise. The security asked me if there was anything I wanted, and I said for them to do their best to keep the suits out.”
I exhale an easy breath. “As long you’re not unnerved, it’s cool.”
“I get how it’s weird, though,” he says, propping his hand on the small table rolled over his bed. “If you’re not comfortable, I can ask him to leave.”
“No, it’s fine,” I rush. “I totally get the point of him being outside now.”
With the elastic band wrapped around his fingers, Wyatt begins flexing his hand open and closed.
“I gotta keep this up if I’m going home,” he says with heightened energy. “I can’t wait to grab my guitar again.”
“I sure hope it comes back to you,” I say, settling into the chair by his bed. “But, it might take time.”
“I know,” he replies. “I’m trying to remember it might not be easy, but dang, I hope it is.”
There’s an itch in my eyes as I watch him concentrating on stretching his fingers out wide. My insides contort with nervous anxiety. It’ll be soul-crushing to see him struggling with the thing he loves. The thing that made him famous.
Wyatt closes his hand, and the elastic springs off and lands at the edge of his table. He reaches across, pinching at the elastic in an attempt to pick it up.
I edge forward. “Want me to get it?”
“Savanna says I’m supposed to do it myself.”
I sit back. “Oh.”
He puffs a nervous laugh. “But I suck.”
“You don’t suck.”
He finally picks it up and uses his other hand to wrap it around his fingers. “I hope Savanna’s right and this does the trick.”
“It’s been so long since I heard you play something that wasn’t recorded.”
