Page 82 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
Wyatt’s eyes fill with glee. “Show me.”
I hide my face with my phone. “Eep! No!”
Wyatt doesn’t push. “Okay, okay. Have your secrets.”
I lower my phone, needing a subject change. “How’s your head?”
He smiles. “Great. It feels clear.”
I lean forward and kiss his forehead. “That’s beyond amazing.”
He reaches out a hand, patting my blanket covered leg. “Best sleep I’ve had in ages.”
“You wanna stay in bed a little longer?”
He throws off the covers. “Nah, I gotta get up.”
I slip out of bed and watch him slowly pull himself up. “You good?”
He grunts as he pushes off the bed. “Yep. Good.”
“You hungry?”
“I guess I could eat. You wanna check out the other bedrooms before we find food?”
“Yeah, sure.”
His eyebrows wiggle. “Gotta find where you’re sleeping.”
I giggle as he shuffles toward the doorway with me. “You’re still set on me moving in?”
“Ah, yeah.” He gestures for me to leave the room first. “I’m telling Erika to get you checked out of your suite.”
I giggle as I wait for him to join me in the hall. As he steps behind me, his hands grasp my hips and then slide around my waist. When his hands plant on top of my stomach, I blissfully move forward with himcuddled behind me.
We move into the second bedroom. It’s slightly smaller than Wyatt’s but looks super cozy with overstuffed pillows on the king bed, a chaise lounge, and closet entrance into the bathroom.
“Umm, I could totally kick it in here.”
He keeps me hugged close. “Yep, you need this one.” He kisses my cheek. “It’s the closest to mine.”
“So, you’d say I’m staying in here, even if it was the worst room?”
“Well, maybe not if it was theworst.”
I giggle and lead him out of the room. “Come on, let’s check out the other rooms.”
The third bedroom is similar to the second, and the fourth bedroom has been turned into a makeshift storage room. It houses an array of miscellaneous items, and my eyes lock onto something propped up on a black stand.
“Oh my gosh.” I gasp. “Wyatt, it’s your guitar.”
“It doesn’t look like my guitar.”
“This is the one you play at concerts.”
He doesn’t respond, except for a gulp.
I clutch his hand. “It’ll be okay. Do you want to hold it?”
