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

by Christina Benjamin

  “Hi, Mrs. Nash,” Layne said, giving an awkward bow-like nod.

  Amusing as it was to watch Layne turn pink as she took in my mother in her bathrobe, slippers, and crazy beauty mask, I didn’t let her squirm too long, afraid my mother’s shock would wear off and she would embarrass me.

  “We were just leaving, Mum.”

  “Oh, don’t let me chase you out.”

  “N-no, that’s okay,” Layne stammered. “It’s getting late. I have to get home.”

  “Well, do come back again,” my mother implored, smiling at me like I’d just announced our engagement.

  “Oh, I hope to.” Layne’s face turned pink again. “To rehearse, I mean. That’s what we were doing, just now. We were just rehearsing for the competition.”

  I snorted and Layne looked to me for help, but I only grinned, stuffing my hands in my pockets as I watched her change colors like a stoplight. I knew what she wanted, but she was much too adorable to rescue at the moment.

  “Oh. Well, very good,” my mother said. “I trust rehearsing is going well, then?”

  “Very well,” I said, winking at Layne who looked like she must be overheating in her jacket and scarf. “Night, Mum.”

  “It’s not funny, Wyatt,” Layne scolded as we drove away from my house.

  But I couldn’t help myself. I howled with laughter every time I envisioned my mother’s face.

  “That was humiliating,” Layne muttered.

  “I don’t know who looked more embarrassed. You or my mother.”

  “Me!” Layne groaned. “And you were no help! Your mom probably thinks we were in your room hooking up.”

  That only made me laugh harder.

  Layne put her head in her hands, and I did my best to stave off my hysterics. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”

  She glared at me. “It kinda feels like you are.”

  “No, it’s just my mother is always telling me to have people over and the one time I finally do . . . she looks like that!” I fell to pieces again, trying to catch my breath as a fresh wave of laughter overtook me. “It just proves she never thought I’d do it.”

  Now even Layne was laughing. “You really don’t have friends over, do you?”

  “Never,” I said, through more hysterical laughter. “But maybe I should if this is the result!”

  “Well, next time, you should probably let your parents know you’re having me over.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” I teased.

  “My mom would kill me if I just invited random people over whenever I wanted.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you tell her every time you invite someone over?”

  “Yeah. Lola’s pretty much the only one who ever comes over. And it’s not like I could hide someone in my house anyway. It’s not quite the sprawling mansion you live in.”

  “Huh,” I said, considering this. “Is that why you were so miffed when I showed up at your house the other morning?”

  “One of many reasons,” she teased.

  “Well, you’d better get used to it, partner. For the next two weeks I’m your chauffer.”

  She laughed. “Well, then you’d better follow proper protocol.”

  “Which is?”

  “Call before you show up and if you invite me over, let your parents know.”

  I gave her a salute. “Next time I promise to announce all arrivals with the proper fanfare.”

  She rolled her eyes. “A text message works fine.”

  We rode in comfortable silence for a bit when Layne surprised me with a question. “So, you really don’t ever invite friends to your house?”

  “What friends?” I asked.

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Wyatt, you have friends. You’re one of the most popular guys in our class.”

  “Popularity and friendship don’t mean the same thing.”

  “What about the guys on your baseball team?”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re not your friends?”

  “They’re my teammates,” I clarified.

  “Okay, then girlfriends?”

  “Do I have girlfriends I’m unaware of?”

  She crossed her arms. “You have a reputation, you know?”

  “So, I’ve heard.” I sighed. “Yes, I’ve dated my fair share of girls at Northwood, but I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

  “Why not?”

  I didn’t particularly like where this line of questioning was going, but for some reason, I didn’t want to lie to Layne. She’d made it past my defenses, and I guess that earned her the truth, no matter how uncomfortable. “Same reason I don’t invite people to my home, I suppose.”

  “Which is?”

  I exhaled slowly, mulling my words over. “I guess . . .” I started. “I guess, I don’t want people to judge me by where I come from.”

  “I get that,” she said quietly.

  I nodded, knowing she did, but I still felt the need to make her understand. “It’s like people see my house and get this idea in their head about me. And once they do, I know I’ll never change it no matter what I do. And that’s not fair. It takes away my impact.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s like what I do doesn’t matter. People see that I have money and decide they either hate me for it or pretend to like me because of it. They don’t get to know me or decide if they want to hate or like me. It makes it impossible to trust peoples’ motives.” I took a breath. “It sucks.”

  Layne was quiet for a moment and I worried I’d said too much as I pulled up to her house. But when I put the car in park, she turned to face me, the gold flecks in her eyes glowing in the dashboard light. “Why did you invite me?” she asked softly.

  “Because you’re different.”

  I watched her head drop. “Oh,” she said, her fingers twisting together in her lap.

  I reached over and took her hands. “You’re different in a good way, Layne.”

  She looked up; her eyes now full of sadness. “I’m tired of being different.”

  “Don’t be,” I whispered. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

  Even in the darkness, I could see her cheeks blaze with color, and I longed to touch them. Resisting, I squeezed her hands. “You’re special, Layne. You’re unique and different and your music is brilliant because of it. You’re perfection. Don’t change for anyone.”

  She grinned sheepishly before meeting my eyes. “You are pretty good with advice.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “You’ve also been told you should take it yourself,” she added.

  It was my turn to grin. “Maybe I will. Come on,” I said, turning off my car, “Let me walk you to your door.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Layne

  Wyatt walked me to my door, holding my hand in the crook of his elbow the whole time. It was such a sweet gesture. It made me think of my elderly neighbors, the Hudsons. Mr. Hudson always walked his wife down the sidewalk like that in the winter when it was icy.

  I’d never thought much of the gesture before, but now, having Wyatt offer it to me, I could see it brought so much more than stability. It was endearing and patient and kind. It was what dreams were made of.

  I shook the thought away and focused on the peeling paint of my front porch to anchor myself to reality. One where dashing princes with British accents didn’t exist.

  Even though I could relate to a lot of what Wyatt had said tonight, the sad truth was we didn’t live in the same world. Maybe we were both judged unfairly but dreaming of a different life and actually carving one out were two very different things.

  A girl like me would never end up with a boy like Wyatt. Not even on paper.

  We only worked in fairytales, and as I gazed up into his bright green eyes, I knew that’s exactly what this was. He was on loan from some magical fairy godmother. Maybe she’d given Lola mono just so I could experience a dream
come true—for the next two weeks anyway.

  “Thanks for tonight,” I said when we reached my front door. “I had a lot of fun.”

  “Me too. Especially the part where we gave my mother the shock of her life.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, even that was a tiny bit fun.”

  “You never told me; was I right about the vinyl?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, but I was right about the pineapples on pizza.”

  Wyatt pressed his lips together and ran a hand through his tousled black hair. “How’s a guy to get ahead with you, Penny Layne?”

  “Still trying to get me to disband the I Hate Wyatt Nash Club?”

  “How am I doing?” he asked, giving me a devilish grin.

  This was all a bit of fun to him, wasn’t it? But as long as I remembered that, I didn’t see the harm in giving him hope. “Keep up the gallant gestures like walking me to my door and you just might get there,” I teased.

  He barked a laugh. I loved startling such a genuine sound from him. Then he sketched a bow and took a step back like he was about to leave.

  “Good night,” I said, making him pause.

  He stood on my porch as if deliberating something monumental, and then he hurried to close the distance between us. His scent wrapped me in an embrace as his hand lightly cupped my cheek. His other hand deftly smoothed back my curtain of long brown hair, lightly moving down my spine to rest at the small of my back.

  His touch sparked through me, making my pulse pound in my ears. I held my breath as Wyatt looked down at me with those dazzling green eyes, his thumb grazing my cheek, searing my skin with pins and needles everywhere we touched.

  I didn’t know if he was going to kiss me again or hold me like this forever. I didn’t know which I wanted more.

  “Good night,” he whispered, his lips softly grazing my cheek for scarcely a moment before he pulled away.

  “What was that for?” I asked even though he was already walking down the steps.

  He turned and looked up at me. “I’m still your kissing tutor, am I not?”

  I nodded slowly, still stunned by his kiss.

  “Then perhaps that was just a proper goodnight kiss.”

  I swallowed. Perhaps? “I don’t know what that means,” I blurted out.

  He smirked. “Then let it mean what you want it to.”

  With that he turned and walked to his car.

  I stood on my porch staring out at the darkness that had swallowed him whole. The street was so silent it would be easy to believe he’d never really been there at all. It was much more feasible to believe I’d imagined the whole thing, but my skin told a different story.

  I reached up retracing his kiss with my fingers. My whole body still tingled from his touch and I couldn’t stop remembering how perfectly I’d fit in his arms.

  I smiled, deciding it was silly to argue with fate even if it felt like my life had been taken over by a delusional fairy godmother. I’d seen enough Disney movies to know sometimes a girl just needs something magical to believe in.

  So, I decided right then and there, that for the next two weeks I’d let Wyatt Nash be my reluctant hero. Though I had to admit he was growing more gallant by the day.

  I’d be fine. There was no harm in enjoying a little fantasy as long as I didn’t get attached. I just needed to remember that in a few days the competition would be here, turning my life back into the proverbial pumpkin.

  And if I ever needed a reminder, I knew just who to call.

  I went inside, climbed up the stairs and collapsed onto my bed, pulling out my phone. It was time to stop avoiding Lola.

  As expected, my best friend gave me a harsh reality check after I sent her a text catching her up on my recent developments.

  Lola: You kissed him? Layne!

  My phone rang immediately. Apparently, texting was no longer an efficient means of conversing when kissing was involved.

  I didn’t even say Lola’s name when I picked up the phone, instead I launched into an apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, it just happened. I’m the worst friend ever.”

  “Stop,” Lola commanded. “First, I’m not mad. I already told you, I’m over that jerk. But he’s still a jerk, Layne. I don’t want him to hurt you, too, which is exactly what’s going to happen. This has disaster written all over it. Maybe you should find a new partner.”

  “I can’t! There’s no time left. Besides it’s not like there’s a line of people who want to sing with me.”

  “Did you even check with the drama club?” Lola argued.

  “Lo, I know Marissa Munns is your idol, but just because one Broadway bound diva came out of our school’s drama club doesn’t mean they grow on trees. Besides, musically, Wyatt’s actually perfect for me.”

  “What?” Hurt cracked Lola’s voice and I immediately regretted my words.

  “I mean, he’s no Lola Rey,” I said trying to recover. “But he’s got a unique style that’s really challenging me to bring my A-game.”

  “Right. Unlike me,” she said flatly.

  “No, Lola. You’re an incredible singer. You make my job easy—like it should be. I wish I was doing this with you more than anything, I’m just trying to be positive about Wyatt and make this work, so I have a shot at the scholarship.”

  “So, you think you have a shot with him as your partner?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Lola sighed. “Well, then I’m rooting for you. Just promise you’ll be careful.”

  “I will,” I said for what felt like the millionth time. Geez, how little did everyone think of me? “I’m not naïve. I know Wyatt is just doing his mom a favor. We’re strictly partners.”

  “Partners who kiss?” she challenged.

  “That was one time and just to help me figure out my lyrics.”

  I could practically here Lola rolling her eyes. Thankfully I hadn’t mentioned our goodnight kiss or I’d never hear the end of it.

  “All I’m saying,” Lola cautioned, “Is you have a tendency to put your heart into your music. That’s what makes it so good. But in this case, it’s what could get you hurt, too.”

  “I need this scholarship, Lo. Even if it means getting hurt,” I said firmly.

  “Well, I hope it doesn’t, but I’m still rooting for you.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, feeling my guilt melt away. As long as my best friend was still on my side, I was confident I had things under control.

  “Now fill me in on everything else I’m missing,” Lola demanded. “I’m bored out of my mind.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Layne

  The rest of the week flew by as Wyatt and I fell into a comfortable routine.

  It was strange to go from being a loner to a duo, but thanks to my strict work ethic, Wyatt and I were inseparable. It was starting to stir rumors about us at school. But Wyatt didn’t seem to mind. He seemed happy to be by my side from practically the moment I woke up until I collapsed into bed.

  He showed up bright and early with our now standard coffee, tea and hot chocolate order to help me get Robby off to school, then he chauffeured me to Northwood High as promised. We spent every waking moment that we weren’t in class either talking about rehearsing or rehearsing for the competition—not kissing even once, thank you very much.

  Though nothing could curb Wyatt’s particular brand of suggestive humor, he remained a gentleman. And I was beyond happy to see how seriously he was taking the competition.

  I couldn’t believe it was only a week away. But we were making a lot of progress. Especially since we’d been going back to Wyatt’s house after school each day to get in more practice time.

  That’s currently where I was heading.

  It was Saturday morning and my mom had the day off, so she’d let me borrow her car. Wyatt and I planned to record a song for the next part of the competition—the popular vote.

  I swallowed my nerves at the thought of putting my music out there for public ridicule. I knew I’d
have to do it at some point, but the reason I disliked social media was because of how hurtful people could be when they had such a platform.

  Luckily, the sight of Wyatt’s house offered an even bigger distraction than my nerves. I’d just rounded the corner of the endless pine-lined drive when the thick forest opened up and gave me my first glimpse of the house.

  House didn’t really seem like the right word.

  Manor?

  Mansion?

  Castle?

  I didn’t think I’d ever get used to how amazing his place was. Maybe it was because I was seeing it in daylight today or because I was paying closer attention since I was in the driver’s seat for a change, but Wyatt’s house looked even more breathtaking. The gray stonework glowed in the watery morning light, and spiderwebs glistening with dew adorned the ornate ironwork gate I pulled up to.

  I hit the intercom to announce my presence, still amused that Mrs. Nash now made sure the gate was closed so visitors couldn’t catch her off guard. I guess one facemask meeting was enough for her.

  Wyatt buzzed me in and met me at the front door.

  “You brought food?” he asked, rushing over to take the pink bakery box in my hands.

  “You’re not the only one who can bring breakfast,” I teased, passing him our drink orders as well before hauling my guitar case out of my car.

  “You, Penny Layne, are an angel,” he said, already digging into the box. He pulled out a donut and stuffed it into his mouth.

  “I didn’t bake them,” I replied.

  “I don’t care,” he said licking his fingers. “You’re still heavenly for bringing them.”

  I laughed and followed him into the house, setting my things down in the kitchen so I could dig into the donuts as well.

  “Hands off,” I said, swatting at Wyatt when he reached for the angel cream. “That one’s mine.”