But then Wyatt’s voice filled the air, and I remembered to breathe. I let his voice wrap around me, listening to the words—my words—as they settled under my skin, filling me with that strange powerful sensation again.
Wyatt moved closer to me as he came to the chorus. His shoulder grazed mine as he coaxed me toward the mic. He took a breath and turned to look at me. We were so close his breath ruffled my hair when he spoke. “Stop running from your fears.”
I knew they were the next words in the song, the words he wanted me to sing with him, but they hit me with more meaning than I’d ever expected.
In that moment, I suddenly realized I was afraid of so much more than I even knew. I was afraid of reaching for more, afraid of wanting what I couldn’t have, afraid to fail, afraid to let anyone in . . . but what good was all that fear?
Wasn’t it worth facing if I could feel like this for even one second?
Because as I stepped up to the mic, my eyes locked on Wyatt’s, I couldn’t imagine anything being scary enough to keep me from reaching for this feeling again and again.
I opened my mouth and let go, my soul igniting as I let my fears pour out.
“Stop running from your fears
Your kiss, your lips, your lies.
Speak the words
Let me in.
Even if your lips drip nothing but sin.”
I felt electrified as Wyatt and I sang together. The world disappeared as I gazed into his eyes. I felt like I could slay dragons with this boy by my side. And maybe I could, because standing here on this stage, making music with Wyatt, I felt alive—probably for the first time in my life. And I owed it all to him.
We finished the song, and the world came back into focus slowly at first as I caught my breath—my chest heaving to the same thrilling rhythm as Wyatt’s, his eyes wide with exhilaration.
For a brief moment of disbelief, I thought I might be dreaming. But when the first of the applause broke through my reverie, the world came crashing back in with a vengeance.
I was truly standing on a stage in front of a roaring crowd and more importantly, in front of a boy who cared enough to make me do it. He took my hand, lifted my arm and faced the crowd, pushing his guitar to his back as he prepared to bow, but I lost myself in the moment and pulled him toward me, throwing my arms around his neck instead.
Wyatt’s laughter rumbled through me. “Does this mean you don’t hate me?”
I pulled back enough to see his crooked grin. The joy sparkling in his eyes made my heart do somersaults. No, I definitely didn’t hate him. Quite the opposite actually. But my brain couldn’t find the words to say so.
So, I did the only other thing that came to mind.
I kissed him.
For once, I stopped thinking and followed my heart, letting my lips crash against Wyatt’s smile, until we were locked in a kiss to end all kisses.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Wyatt
“What?” Layne asked, when she caught my eyes on her instead of the road as I drove us home.
I was honestly having a hard time keeping my eyes off of her, and it wasn’t just because of that kiss. Okay, well the kiss had a lot to do with it, but something had changed in Layne tonight. Conquering her fears on that stage had done wonderous things for her. She seemed to glow with a new confidence that I found intensely appealing.
I’d always known she had it in her, but now that she knew it too, she’d be unstoppable. And that made me almost as happy as her surprising kiss had.
“Wyatt!” she exclaimed. “Stop smirking at me like that.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Well, can you at least try? I feel like you’re laughing at me.”
“Oh, I’m definitely not laughing. I’m still in awe of how you rocked that stage.”
She laughed. “I was pretty incredible, wasn’t I?”
I let my eyes slip from the road again to take in her radiance as she grinned, reminiscing about our night at Journeys. I loved seeing her like this, so carefree and happy. I also liked that she was still wearing my hat and jacket. She looked distractingly adorable in my clothes and it was wreaking havoc on my nerves.
“You’re doing it again,” she warned.
“What?”
“You’re smirking at me.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t think I like the mischievous twinkle in your eyes. It means you’re scheming.”
“Ah, yes. Well, I’m definitely scheming how to get you to kiss me like that again.”
I could practically feel the temperature in the car rise as Layne’s cheeks burned. “That was a victory kiss.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I feel I should tell you, if this is your way to incentivize me to plan more victorious moments, it’s working.” She laughed, and I shook my head. “And here I thought I was the kissing tutor.”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I think I just got carried away in the moment.”
“Don’t apologize.” I said, giving her fidgeting hands a squeeze. “Tonight was a victory.”
“Thank you,” she said, returning my squeeze. “For everything.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Everything? Even the kiss?” I couldn’t help myself. She was just so cute when she was flustered.
“It was a pretty great kiss,” she said, surprising me. But then she added, “In terms of research, of course.”
I grinned. “Of course.”
“So, what do you want to do for the rest of the night?” Layne asked, deftly changing the subject.
“It’s your night, diva.”
“Am I a totally lame diva if I just want to watch a movie? I’m exhausted.”
“Already bored of your fame?” I teased, shaking my head. “No, I think that makes you a true diva.”
“I’m so not a diva, and it’s never been about fame for me.”
“Really?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“Yeah. I mean, every musician wants fame, don’t they?”
“Not me.”
“Alright, I’ll bite, if it’s not fame, then what do you want?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I just want to make my mark.”
“Isn’t that the same thing as fame?”
“No. Being famous is all about being celebrated and well-known. I don’t need that. I just want to know that I made a difference in the world, that my existence meant something, ya know? Having my music mean something would mean I meant something. Like, I was here, world. I’m not forgettable.” Layne laughed uncomfortably. “I know, it sounds silly when I say it out loud.”
“I don’t think it sounds silly at all.” I swallowed thickly. After a moment I asked, “What makes you think you’re forgettable?”
She shrugged and looked down, picking at a thread on her jeans. “My dad,” she said softly. I watched her throat bob as she swallowed back her emotions. “He had no trouble forgetting me.”
“I see.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter, fighting the flash of anger I felt for a man I’d never met. “Well, don’t make the world suffer for one blind man’s mistakes.”