Page 85 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
He sighs, letting his forehead rest against mine. “I wish I’d never gone on that stupid show.”
I gasp. “No, you can’t...”
He lifts his head and his red-rimmed gaze locks deeply with mine. “I wish I’d never left home, never left you, and didn’t ruin my family.”
“Wyatt, you didn’t...”
“My parents aren’t here,” he cuts me off. “I, I don’t live with them. I don’t have a re-relationship with them.”
“You travel a lot. You haven’t ruined anything.”
“But you don’t know, Josie. You’re not here.” His eyes grow glassy as his voice wavers. “We aren’t friends anymore.”
Those four words hit me hard, like a dagger into the chest. My airway constricts, and I choke as I look away from him.
He lifts my hands, still clutched around his. “Because of me. I hate myself for abandoning you.”
I whip my face back to look at him dead in the eyes. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. I do.”
I pull him into a tense hug. “You don’t understand how happy you make me. I’ve never hated you, so don’t let those thoughts enter your mind.”
He’s limp against me. “How could you not hate me? I don’t evenunderstand how you want to be around me.”
I rub my hands against his back, trying to bring warmth into him. “Because I’ve never been without you. I’ve always had your music, and I was able to watch you online. Why do you think I pushed you to go on Talent Quest? I never expected to keep you all to myself.”
He finally hugs me back. “Really?”
The tension slips off my back. “Yes, of course. I mean, yeah, it sucked when we stopped texting. But I knew you had film shoots and press tours.”
“You’re being too lenient with me.”
“I can’t help it. I’m obsessed with you, Wyatt.”
He sighs against my shoulder. “I should’ve confided in you all along. Maybe if we’d stayed in contact, I never would’ve been hurt.”
“Maybe, but we can’t know. But we can get through these unknowns together.”
“I just wish I woke up where I remember.”
I brush my hand against his back and kiss his jaw. “What do you remember last?”
His hands settle against the base of my back and his chin sits on my shoulder. “Your treehouse. Acting out a scene from one of your stories.”
I giggle at the silly memory. “And you said you didn’t have any acting experience.”
He lets out an exhausted laugh. “Ha. Guess that was the clincher.”
I run my hand up, resting it against the back of his head, and pull out of the hug. His back straightens and he’s quick to pats his eyes dry.
I pout. “You look exhausted.”
“No, I’m okay. But, I could do with some food.”
I stand from the bed. “Shall we find the kitchen?”
“Or, just the butler?”
