Kissing The Hero (The Dangers of Dating a Diva Book 2)

by Christina Benjamin

  “You sure?”

  She nodded and this time, when she reached for my door handle, I didn’t stop her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Layne

  Wyatt walked the short distance from the parking lot to the school entrance with me. I could already feel the stares we were getting.

  Most of my life I’d been invisible, happy to be Lola’s shadow, but it seemed Wyatt’s presence was so big, even his shadow warranted attention.

  I didn’t like it.

  I ducked my head and let my brown hair fall around my face like a protective curtain.

  When we walked into the main hall, I tried to split off from Wyatt to head to my locker, but he caught my arm. “Oh, I almost forgot. I spoke to my mother this morning and told her to officially add me to the competition. She said she’ll take care of the paperwork.”

  I looked down, my face flaming as girls walked past us slack-jawed to see Wyatt Nash giving me the time of day.

  “That is, unless you’ve changed your mind?” Wyatt asked, when he was met with my silence.

  “No.”

  “No, you don’t want me, or no, you haven’t changed your mind?”

  “No, I-I want you,” I stammered, cringing when I realized how that sounded. “I mean, I haven’t changed my mind, I want you to sing my songs in the competition.”

  Wyatt’s lips quirked up into a grin. “Good, I’m glad we got that cleared up. But you’re going to have to get over this,” he said, gesturing between us.

  “Get over what?”

  “Your embarrassment to be seen with me.”

  “I’m not embarrassed,” I replied, my hot cheeks instantly betraying me.

  “You look pretty embarrassed right now, and even more so when I showed up at your house this morning.”

  “No, I wasn’t, it’s just . . .” I trailed off.

  “Just what?”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  Wyatt narrowed his eyes, studying me, then as if he’d come to a decision, he took a step closer, his mouth grazing my ear as he spoke. “You know what I like about you, Penny Layne? You’re real. Don’t stop on my account.”

  I swallowed thickly trying to unscramble my brain. “What does that mean?”

  He took a step back and shrugged like he had no idea how much his words affected me. “It means, do you. Be proud of who you are, where you come from. It’s all part of the package.” He took another step back, his eyes appraising me from head to toe. “And from where I’m standing, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He gave me a wink. “See you after school, Penny Layne.”

  Then he turned abruptly and disappeared into the churning hall of students, leaving me standing there, my universe forever altered.

  The rest of the day I replayed Wyatt’s words over and over. The affect they had on me wasn’t surprising, however, the fact that I felt strangely at ease was.

  Wyatt Nash liked me. I didn’t know if he meant, he liked-me-liked-me, or if he meant it in more of a you’re-a-casual-friend-and-I-respect-you-musically, kinda way. But I found I was content with either, because the one thing that was clear from his startling confession was that he liked me for me.

  The notion was rare, and frankly thrilling.

  ‘Do you. Be proud of who you are, where you come from.’ I clung to his words, letting them fill me up. He made it all sound so easy. Like ignoring the perceptions of others was no big deal.

  Perhaps it could be that easy. The idea of letting all my self-doubt and insecurity go was tempting. It was what held me back all of these years.

  A peaceful calm washed over me as I imagined how liberating it would be to exist in a world like that, where I didn’t care what people thought of me.

  Maybe Wyatt was right. Maybe I should adopt his attitude.

  I knew the I Hate Wyatt Nash Club was only fictional, but if it were real, I had a feeling his actions today might make me reconsider my membership. I frowned, wondering if maybe I should come up with some sort of rules for my partnership with Wyatt. Lately, I couldn’t remember whether I was supposed to hate him or not.

  It was pretty hard to dislike him after this morning. He’d showed up like a white knight, offering rides to school and hot beverages. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t known I didn’t like coffee. Perhaps if I’d been real from the beginning, he would’ve brought me tea.

  And I couldn’t ignore how sweet he’d been with Robby—indulging in clown waffles and answering Robby’s endless questions while we waited for the school bus.

  Maybe everyone was wrong about Wyatt.

  I mean, the boy did my dishes for heaven’s sake!

  He might have a reputation, but I knew better than most that the rumors my classmates spread weren’t always true.

  According to them I was just a prudish band geek that didn’t warrant a second look.

  That wasn’t true.

  I was talented, bright, funny, and kind. I knew someday I’d grow into the woman I wanted to be. Maybe sooner than expected with a friend like Wyatt. I kind of liked the confidence his lingering words filled me with.

  There was an extra pep in my step as I walked to my next class.

  Maybe hanging out with Wyatt Nash would be good for me.

  Chapter Twenty

  Wyatt

  “What’s this I hear about you and Layne Hall?” Cooper asked the moment I joined the rest of the baseball team at my usual lunch table.

  “What about her?” I asked.

  “You’re not seriously into her, right?”

  “Why? You have your eye on her, Coop?” Jake, another of my old teammates chimed in, making the whole table laugh.

  Cooper ignored the comment, focused on me. “I’m just looking out for you, bro. You know her deal, right?”

  I took a sip of my drink, stalling. I didn’t know her deal and though I desperately wanted to, I didn’t want to appear too eager, or these idiots would never let me live it down.

  “He’s right.” Jake added. “Dating her is like social suicide, dude.”

  “Yeah,” Cooper agreed. “She’s a total prude. She might even bat for the other team, if you know what I mean.”

  I resisted rolling my eyes, because everyone always knew what Cooper meant. He was about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. “And you know this how?” I asked.

  “Because Coop asked her to the fifth-grade dance and she said no,” Jake replied, snorting with laughter.

  “Shut up, Jake!” Cooper snapped, punching Jake in the arm.

  But Jake’s laughter couldn’t be silenced. “Then he tried to kiss her and she started crying!”

  “Whatever,” Cooper muttered. “I dodged a bullet. She’s a total loser. Even her dad bailed. That says it all.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Jake answered. “It was some big scandal. He took all their money and ran off with his secretary or something.”

  “I see,” I said, taking a bite of my lunch, considering the new information.

  “We’re just looking out for you,” Cooper said again.

  I gave him a tight smile. “Thanks, but you don’t need to worry. I’m just having a bit of fun.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Layne

  Maybe I’d reconsidered disbanding the I Hate Wyatt Nash Club too quickly.

  Currently, I was sitting in the practice room, scowling at Wyatt as he ripped my song apart. And the worst part was, he was using my guitar to do it. Actually, no, the worst part was that he was right!

  The changes he made really did sound great, but I couldn’t admit that. Not just because it hurt my pride, but because I was the songwriter. The whole point of the competition was to enter two original songs that I wrote, not Wyatt.

  When he finally finished running through the song, I took my guitar back.

  “So, what do you think?” Wyatt asked.

  “I think we should stick to our roles.”

  His eyebrows quirked up to match his smirk
. “You didn’t like it?”

  “No, it’s not that. I just want to be able to put my name on it, and I can’t do that if you completely rewrite my song.”

  “I didn’t rewrite it,” he argued. “Did you listen to the track I sent you? If we do it that way really only the bridge changed, and I think it helps showcase the genius of the piece.”

  I sighed, trying to find the willpower to argue with him when he was complimenting me. Not to mention that he looked extra adorable with that hopeful twinkle in his eye. I pushed my pride aside and forced the bratty tone from my voice as I tried to make him understand.

  “Wyatt, it’s not that I don’t like it. Honestly, everything you’re doing is seriously inspiring and if this were just the two of us messing around, I’d be game for following you wherever the music takes us, but this is a songwriter competition.”

  “I know,” he interrupted. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a one-man show. We’re collaborating. That’s how songwriters come up with their best stuff.”

  “Wyatt . . .” I groaned. “Can’t we just stick to you being the singer and me the songwriter?”

  “Where do you think music would be if everyone stayed in their lane?” he argued. “Think of all the great duos out there. There’d be no Syd without Nancy!”

  “Syd and Nancy?” I exclaimed. “That’s a terrible example!”

  “Okay, you’re right.” Wyatt took his fedora off and ran his hand through his messy hair before replacing it. “What about Sonny and Cher? Or Ike and Tina?” He shook his head when he saw my frown. “Hold on, I can think of someone better. What about . . . er . . . John and Yoko?”

  I scoffed. “You might as well throw Bonnie and Clyde in there while you’re at it.”

  “I’ve got it!” Wyatt shouted. “Beyoncé and Jay-Z.”

  I couldn’t argue with him there. “Touché.”

  Wyatt grinned, taking my agreement as concession. “All hail Queen B.”

  I laughed, unable to fight his infectious enthusiasm. “Okay, you might have a point about collaborating. I really like a lot of your ideas, but I’m trying to do what you said.”

  Wyatt cocked his head to the side in question.

  “I’m trying to ‘do me’,” I said, making air quotes that made him crack up. “I’m serious, Wyatt.” I waited for him to get the last of his laughter out before continuing. “This competition means everything to me. It’s not easy for me to put myself out there, but I know I need to if I’m going to stand a chance, and that means I have to be authentic and so does my music. So, if we’re going to do this together, you need to promise to respect that and not steamroll me.”

  I watched Wyatt’s lips quirk up in a slow, sinful smile that made my stomach tighten. He took a few steps toward me until we were standing face to face. “I think I can live with that.”

  I fought the nervous jitters I always felt when he was too close and extended my hand, grateful to at least have my guitar between us. “Then welcome to the team.”

  His sideways smirk turned into a full-on dazzling smile as he clasped his rough hand around mine. My whole body tingled at his touch. And why did he have to smell so good? His cologne was irresistible. Or maybe the scent was all him. I didn’t know, but I needed to find a way to stop noticing everything I liked about Wyatt or the only collaboration happening would be our lips.

  Oh no! The fact that I’d just let that thought enter my mind was not good.

  Music, I reminded myself. Just focus on the music.

  “Should we get started?” I asked.

  Wyatt smirked, like he’d been reading my mind. “Ready when you are, Penny Layne.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Layne

  Thankfully, I’d been right about the music, and Wyatt for that matter. We worked brilliantly together. And now that I’d stopped resisting his ideas we were really getting somewhere.

  My song sounded better than ever.

  When Wyatt suggested we put a Buckingham-Nicks twist on it I couldn’t stop grinning. Watching Wyatt Nash don my scarf and impersonate Stevie Nicks was priceless, but it actually gave me a great idea about how to break down the chorus.

  “What if we try it like this?” I suggested, making a quick note on the sheet music before singing the lyrics. “Bending, swaying, torn open, I am bent, not broken, I am bent-bent-bent, not broken.”

  “Yes!” Wyatt exclaimed. “Finger-picking the chorus is epic! Let’s start from the top again.”

  I was breathless with laughter by the time we finished the song. Wyatt had sung the last bit strutting around the room like Mick Jagger. Despite his comedic efforts, we’d nailed it. And I couldn’t deny that I was having the time of my life.

  Even with Lola, I never laughed this much. With her, I played, and she sang. We stayed in our lanes. With Wyatt, I don’t even think we had lanes. We traded off instruments and vocals like breathing and each time I felt my confidence building.

  Collaborating with Wyatt was bringing something out of me I didn’t know I possessed. I wasn’t quite sure what it was yet, but it was addicting. I couldn’t wait to start on the next song.

  “I think we’ve got it,” I said. “Let’s start on the next song while we’re on a roll.”

  “Not so fast, I think we’re close, but it’s not perfection yet.”

  I smirked. “If this is your attempt to get me to compliment your dancing, fine, you’ve got moves like Jagger.”

  “I’m being serious,” Wyatt replied, his green eyes knocking the wind out of me as he moved closer, taking a seat next to me on the piano bench. His fingers danced over the keys making the same song that had been riotous a moment ago sound hauntingly beautiful.

  “Right here,” he said, playing one of the verses again as he softly sang the lyrics. “Your face, your mouth, your lies.”

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “It keeps tripping me up. I think it needs to be more powerful.”

  “How?”

  “Okay, so let’s break it down. You’re talking about a kiss, right?”

  My cheeks instantly flamed, and I ducked my head. “Maybe.”

  He smirked, his green eyes taunting me. “Penny Layne, this song is about inner strength. You can’t be embarrassed to talk about a little kiss.”

  “I’m not.”

  I sucked in a breath as Wyatt’s finger brushed my curtain of long brown hair back so he could see my face. “Seems like you are.”

  I glared at him. “Are you trying to help me or torture me?”

  His wicked smile slid into place. “Who says I can’t do both?”

  My stomach tightened. I knew better than to dance with the devil, but Wyatt’s sinful lips were muddling my brain again. And was it hot in here? I tugged at the collar of my shirt, suddenly feeling like the heat must be pumping into the practice room on full blast.

  Focus on the song, Layne. “Do you have a suggestion or are you just going to tease me?”

  “I think this line falls flat. It should be more like . . . Your lips, your kiss, your lies,” he sang, his voice slow and sultry, like molasses dripping from a hot spoon.

  I swallowed tightly. Yep, I was definitely going to overheat if Wyatt kept singing about kisses with his lips so close to mine.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  I tried to shrug like I wasn’t affected. “It’s okay.”

  “Okay?” he replied, amusement in his eyes. “You know that was more than okay,” he teased. “And you can’t tell me you don’t like it better than, ‘your mouth’. No one says mouth when referring to a kiss.”

  “Why not?” I argued.

  “Because there are so many better words. It’s not mouth-to-mouth. It’s a kiss. There needs to be passion for it to feel real.”

  “Whatever,” I muttered. “It’s just a kiss.”

  Wyatt’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Just a kiss?” He scoffed. “Some songwriter you are.”

  “Wyatt,” I warned. “Tease me all you want, but do
n’t criticize my music.”

  I stood and tried to slide off the piano bench, but Wyatt pulled me back so suddenly I nearly lost my balance. I landed ungracefully next to him on the bench, much closer than before.

  “I wasn’t doing either,” he said, sounding almost apologetic. “I was merely making an observation.”

  I crossed my arms to put some space between us. “Which is?”

  “That you’ve obviously never been kissed if that’s your feeling on the situation.”

  “You have no idea who I’ve kissed.” Which was precisely no one.

  “Alright, but it couldn’t have been a proper kiss. Which I can’t blame you for, really. Snogging Cooper Jones would make me cry, too.”

  Of course, he’d heard about that. I rolled my eyes. “So what? It was fifth grade. And we didn’t kiss.” Though he’d tried. “What’s the big deal anyway? Kissing is just a pair of lips touching another pair of lips.”

  Wyatt pressed his lips together trying to suppress his smirk. “Uh, no. It’s a little more than that.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Really,” he grinned.

  Frustrated and flustered, I stammered out my next words in a final attempt at dignity. “Well, unless you care to elaborate, I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

  “I’m game to elaborate if you are.”

  Heat rose up my neck at his insinuation. “I-I . . .” I was looking into his green eyes now and suddenly forgot how to speak.

  Luckily, it seemed Wyatt wasn’t suffering from the same affliction.

  He tucked my hair behind my ear again, his fingers lingering this time. “A kiss can be so much more than lips meeting,” he said, slowly tracing my jaw. “It can be mind-blowing. Earth-shattering. Soul-awakening.” Wyatt moved closer with each word, until his lips were a breath away from mine. “There are a thousand words and emotions locked in each kiss.”

  I inhaled sharply as his thumb caressed my lower lip. My heart was hurtling at breakneck speed. I didn’t know how long I could keep it up. This was the closest I’d ever come to a kiss and I already felt like I was going to pass out. I was pretty sure I was hyperventilating as I sucked in another ragged breath. Maybe I wouldn’t survive Wyatt’s kiss.