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.”
“See, you really are an angel,” he teased. “Angel cream for the angel.”