Page 57 of Shy Girls Can’t Date Celebrities (Shy Girls Sweet Romances #6)

We dawdle around the park, mine and Wyatt’s pace lagging behind the others. I smile as Kylie and Parker hold hands and zigzag their way along the footpath. They’re in their own little world and infatuated with each other’s company.

“They’re really cute together,” Wyatt comments.

“I know. I’m happy for them.”

Wyatt and I stroll along the sidewalk, coming close to a parking lot. My eyes wander across a group of students, who have gotten out of school early. I’m about to turn away, when I hear a gasp and notice one girl hurriedly nudging another.

“Oh my gosh, Wyatt Hayes,” one of the girls shrieks .

The girls bolt toward us, giving me no reaction time to get Wyatt away from them.

One girl’s face is a mismatch of white and red splodges, like she’s about to pass out.

Her friend holds her up, saying, “Holy crap! You’ve come back to town. This is so exciting!”

From a nearby pickup truck, a broad footballer-type plods over to the girls. “Sally, what are you screaming about?”

The girls point at Wyatt, bouncing up and down together. “Look! Look!”

The guy spots Wyatt and then stops dead. He then turns towards the pickup truck he came from. “Roy, Mckinley, get over here!”

Two other burly guys lift their heads with mild interest.

One of the girls points at me. “Oh my gosh! You’re the girl in the video. The one who supposedly goes to our school.”

“Oh, wow!” the other girl gasps. “It totally is. Why have we never seen you before?”

“Totally,” the first girl says. “I was like, they’re lying. I remember saying, I’ve never seen that girl in my life.”

“Yo, Sally,” the broad guy says, edging closer. “How are you talking to Wyatt Hayes right now?”

“ Hello ,” she replies with an eye roll. “We went to school together, remember?”

Broad guy laughs. “Of course, I remember. I’m not a dumbass.”

At that, something triggers Wyatt and his expression quirks into a hardened frown. “You didn’t want to know me when I went to your school.”

“Sure, we did,” they all reply.

Wyatt shakes his head slowly. “No. I was the dumb kid who got held back a grade. Besides one person, no one wanted to know me.”

“That’s not true,” one girl blurts. “We, like, totally remember you from school talent shows.”

“Do you?” Wyatt’s eyes turn to slits. “Or do you remember the footage of a talent show that was played on national TV?”

I jolt backwards.

How does he know that?

The girls glance at each other, uttering syllables.

Wyatt shakes his head. “I thought so.”

“Dude, we were there,” the broad guy says, folding his arms. “You just don’t remember us being in the same class.”

“I remember getting DMs after I won from people, who by all rights, used to hate my guts.”

I double-take at Wyatt.

Wait...

Does he remember?

I clutch his arm. “Wyatt?”

He turns to me, and then grunts, grabbing his head in pain.

I grab a hold of his other arm, looking him up and down as agony turns his frame rigid.

The people around us fuss and whine at the sight, but I refuse to take in any of their noise. Despite the fact it might hurt him, I shove Wyatt backwards, getting space from our onlookers. They continue to babble behind us, but they don’t come any closer.

With a stable stance, Wyatt stands a little taller, wincing and rubbing his thumb in a circle between his eyebrows.

I clutch his arm and place my other hand on his back. “Are you okay?”

“I... I...” He strains to get the words out as he hunches forward. “It hurts, but... I... I think I remember.”

My heartbeat accelerates and my hands press firmer on him. “Remember? Remember what?”

Wyatt drops his hand and lets out a horrified gasp. He bumps my hands off his and takes three unsteady steps backward. His mouth hangs open and his eyes widen with added shine.

“Wyatt?” I murmur, unnerved. “What is it? What’s happening?”

His forehead scrunches, and he holds the sides of head as he leans forward. A guttural moan aches out of him, and I’m petrified with icy fear. My vision blurs with cloudy tears and my muscles tense as questions leak from my brain.

I inch my way toward him, carefully taking hold of his arms. “What is it? Talk to me.”

“My movie,” he struggles to speak through gritted teeth. “I remember.”

My jaw drops. “As in, the film set? You remember being there? The accident?”

He frowns, which quickly morphs into a grimace as the pain scorches his face.

“Oh, Wyatt,” I mourn. “I hate that you’re suffering like this.”

Wyatt moves out of my grip and blinks his eyes clear. I take half a step towards him, still giving him air.

“Oh, crap,” it breathes out of him. “I have to go back.”

I blink at him, hoping I misheard. “Huh?”

He holds his stomach and presses his lips together as a lump bulges in his throat.

“Hey, hey,” I coo, rubbing the chill from his forearms. “Take it easy. Just breathe.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve made a big mistake.”

My heart drops. “About what?”

I can’t bring myself to ask more, but my brain spirals.

About me? About us?

“Joze, I’ve let them all down.”

Purpose strengthens my heartbeat. “Don’t say that. You’re doing your best to recover. ”

He shakes his head again, wincing from the pain. “No, you don’t understand. If I quit, all these people will lose their jobs.”

I swallow hard. “What people?”

“I have a contract,” he rushes, looking off to the side as if someone’s coming after him. “I have commitments. I’ve jeopardized too much by walking away.”

“Wyatt, slow down.”

His shallow breaths accelerate. “People depend on me.” He pants hard. “They need me to show up for their own livelihoods.”

I wrap my arms around him, hoping it’ll ground him and help him calm down. “Wyatt, you haven’t let anyone down. You’re in recovery. You haven’t quit.”

His eyes grow glossy and he has trouble steadying his eyes in one place. “But... But, I...”

“No,” I say firmly, holding his chin so he has only me to focus on. “Those people were manipulating you into rushing back to work. You saw the journal entries in your own handwriting. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

Wyatt hugs me back, holding me tight like a security blanket. “Crap, Joze. They’re stuck in my head. It’s like a vice grip.”

“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “You don’t have to go back. You’re home.”

He exhales slowly, trembling slightly. “I love you.”

“Wyatt, you have my whole heart. I love you so much.”

Kylie and Parker rush back toward us, and before they can ask us if we’re okay, I ask Parker to drive us home.