Page 81 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
Wyatt smiles weakly. “Awesome.”
My heart hurts and I scoot across the bed to sit beside him. “Are the painkillers not working?”
He grunts, eyeing the ceiling with glassy eyes. “I dunno. Just feels like something’s pulsating in my head.”
I wince in second-hand pain. “Do you want me to call someone? Maybe Erika could get your doctor on the line?”
He shakes his head and grabs my hand. “No, it’ll be fine. It’ll eventually stop. Just cuddle me.”
“That I can do.” I lie down beside him and wrap my arm around his middle. “I’m sorry if my phone ringing woke you up.”
“No, it was the headache.”
I lift my hand and massage his temple. His eyelids fall shut and heexhales softly.
I smile. “Better?”
His lips curl and he gives a slight nod, keeping his eyes closed. I keep gentle pressure on the side of his head, rubbing concentric circles with my thumb.
Before long, quiet sleeping sounds purr out of him. I keep massaging his head, ensuring he falls deeper into sleep.
Gosh, he looks so freaking beautiful.
Not able to help myself, I press my lips against his, relishing in every bit of his sweetness.
Thirteen
I’m sitting up in bed and tapping on my phone when Wyatt stretches awake.
“Hey, sleepy head,” I say, reclining against two pillows.
He squints at me. “Hey. What ya doing?”
I lock my screen. “Just writing.”
Wyatt frowns. “I thought you didn’t hide what you wrote.”
I bite my lip. “I don’t hide stories.”
He deadpans me. “You locked your screen.”
I wince. “Because it’s not a story.”
“Then what is it? What are you hiding?”
I cringe. “A poem.”
Wyatt sits up. “You write poetry?”
I press the phone against my chest. “It’s just for me.”
“You don’t share the poetry?” he questions. “It could win awards like the short stories.”
I squeak, sinking against the pillows. “I’d be too embarrassed.”
Wyatt chuckles. “Why? You’re a great writer.”
I fan my face, mortified. “They’re about you.”
