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

by Christina Benjamin

  Since I’d never really had a reason to follow Northwood’s social gossip scene before, I didn’t have the Tattler app, but I instantly downloaded it after I heard everyone talking about the posts at lunch. I quickly created an account and logged on.

  I settled into my hiding spot in the practice room. I’d scurried there after lunch. Today’s insanity had killed my appetite anyway, and I didn’t really want to sit around and listen to Candace and her friends laughing at me in the cafeteria. Not that I knew that they were. But they had their phones out and were giggling, so I assumed I was most likely the subject matter since it seemed my songs were all anyone could talk about.

  I shook my head, half furious, half impressed. Wyatt certainly knew what it took to generate buzz. I looked down at my phone. The Tattler app mocked me, begging me to open it. But was I ready for this?

  Once I saw all the things people were saying, I couldn’t unsee them. What if it shook me so badly, I couldn’t even perform on Saturday?

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was now or never. And I told myself it was better to know if I was terrible now before going up on a stage and humiliating myself in front of a full auditorium.

  Without giving myself a chance to chicken out, I clicked the app and forced myself not to hyperventilate as I scrolled to find the post I was looking for.

  I didn’t have to go far. It was front and center. Two tiny audio file icons glowed back at me right below a Tattler post.

  Trojan Tattler:

  Looks like there’s a new diva in town. Rumor has it this curious crooner wishes to stay anonymous. But I’m more interested in her partner than perfect pitch. Who is this dynamic duo? And what else have they been hiding besides their stunning sound?

  Surprise swept threw me as I read the comments under the post.

  @Bre-Z-babe - omg this song is everything.

  @countree_gurl17 - it’s like she’s in my head.

  @Stark_on_this - the words were carved from my heart.

  @yas_Queen14 - secret songstress fan forever!

  @11_IsStranger - another Marissa Munns!

  @Pea_Key(blinderz) - her voice is life!

  @Scott_E_dozent_no - I want to live in her vocal cords.

  @xxTanMan420xx - this is my anthem.

  Of course, there were a few crude comments from the boys who would probably never outgrow their adolescent humor, but I ignored those, focusing instead on the shocking praise my music was getting—on the Tattler of all places.

  The legendary gossip site was known for making even the meanest of mean girls cry. If you could make it on the Tattler you could make it anywhere.

  Again, Wyatt’s genius astounded me. Had he known what an excellent proving ground the Tattler could be for musicians to cut their teeth?

  I scrolled down further, to read the next post, which was also about my music.

  Trojan Tattler:

  You know me, I’m all for coupling up, but even I can admit sometimes there’s nothing better than going solo. This girl is on fire. Wish we knew who the phoenix was. Don’t worry, where there’s smoke there’s ashes. We hope you burn down the house this Saturday.

  I reread the post five more times, still not believing my eyes.

  Was the Tattler actually rooting for me?

  Tears welled in my eyes as I read the overwhelmingly positive comments from my classmates. I knew they didn’t know it was me they were complimenting, but still my chest swelled with joy as I let it sink in.

  Wyatt was right, and somehow, he’d actually proved it to me.

  I was good enough. I could do this!

  I wished I didn’t have to wait until the end of the day to see him. I wanted another victory kiss desperately right now. But even more than that, I wanted to get on that stage Saturday and sing my heart out for all the people who were rooting for me. I wanted to prove they weren’t wrong about me.

  My chest tightened as a strange realization washed over me.

  When I’d first met Wyatt, I’d told him he should try to prove the world wrong once in a while. And now that he had, here I was wanting to prove the world right. What did that say about us?

  The butterflies in my stomach seemed to think they knew the answer as they beat wildly.

  Could it be true? Could we belong together?

  The lyrics to a new song started racing through my mind.

  You’re more than good for me.

  Prove me right, let the whole world be wrong.

  Tell me, tell me, tell me, we belong.

  Chapter Fifty

  Wyatt

  Layne practically tackled me in the parking lot after school. I wasn’t complaining. Having her in my arms was always a bonus. But the smile on her face was the real reward.

  I’d never seen her look this elated. Not even after Journeys.

  It was like finally, something clicked, and she could see what I saw—that she was destined for greatness.

  “I could kiss you!” she squealed after I set her back on her feet.

  “I’m not stopping you,” I teased, unable to curb my flirtation completely. Hey, I was trying, but I was still a guy.

  Layne gave me a playful swat. “I’m joking, Wyatt.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. We’re strictly partners, I remember.” But I couldn’t force the sarcasm into my voice. Not with the way she was glowing. “So, did I prove it, or what?”

  “And then some,” she said, throwing her arms around me again.

  “Told ya!” I swooped her off her feet again and spun her around again until she was breathless with laughter.

  “Put me down,” she ordered, still laughing. “We have things to do.”

  “Like what?” I asked, setting her back on her feet.

  “Like upload my track to the voting page.”

  I opened my passenger door and bowed deeply. “Your chariot awaits.”

  She giggled as she hopped in. I jogged around to my side of the car, Franken-boot not even slowing me down. I was practically floating thanks to this stroke of luck. Now I just had to keep the ball rolling.

  “I think we should send a tip in to the Tattler tomorrow to reveal your identity,” I said, as we sat at Layne’s kitchen counter.

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, that way kids will know who to vote for on the competition site. And I’m sure the Tattler would appreciate being the first to break the story of your identity since it helped you reach stardom.”

  She laughed. “You’ve thought a lot about this.”

  “Not really.”

  “So that’s just how your brain works, all conniving and schemy?”

  I shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

  She rolled her eyes, but I could see she was considering it. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

  “I wouldn’t consider it if I thought it would. Besides, if anyone goes to the competition site to vote they’ll figure out who you are anyway, right?”

  Layne shook her head. “No. The voting is anonymous to make it fair. The committee doesn’t want anyone to have an advantage. You know, like people with massive social media followings already.”

  She turned her laptop to show me, but I wasn’t really paying attention when she started rattling off the rules and regulations. I was too busy staring at the screen name she was using on her profile.

  Under her photograph, bio and real name, was one little word that made my heart beat faster than anything ever had.

  @PennyLayne24

  “What?” she asked, finally noticing the smile that I couldn’t seem to get off my face.

  “Your screen name. You used my nickname.”

  Her cheeks turned that gorgeous sunset pink color that I wanted to bottle. “Yeah, um, I . . . Is that okay?” she asked.

  “It’s more than, okay,” I replied, working hard to keep my voice from sounding so gravelly.

  This was even better than seeing her in my jacket. This was her, using my nickname. A name I’d given her. It was uniquely ou
rs and something about the fact that she’d just shared it with the world made my hopes for us suddenly real.

  The feeling was a mixture of sheer terror and joy—and I didn’t want it to end.

  Layne was sitting so close her knees were pressed into mine. I ached to move my hands from my thighs to hers. She was wearing a corduroy skirt and knee socks today, along with her glasses. The nerdy schoolgirl look had nearly gutted me when I first saw her this morning, but now, sitting so close . . . the temptation was killing me.

  I took a deep breath, my eyes looking anywhere but at the lips I so desperately wanted to kiss. My gaze landed on a calendar on Layne’s fridge. Saturday was circled in red pen. Today was Monday.

  I sucked in a steadying breath. Five days, I reminded myself.

  I could wait for five more days.

  Then I’d make her mine.

  That thought steadied me. I looked back at Layne, feeling more focused now. “Well, I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”

  She swallowed hard. “What?”

  “Shall we press submit?”

  She gave a nervous nod. “Together?”

  I placed my hand over hers. “Together.”

  We clicked submit and her grin lit up my world. I shook my head, wondering if she had any clue how much one song could change the world.

  Her voice had turned my world upside down. And as I grinned back at her, I sort of hoped I’d never find right side up again.

  “So,” I reminded her. “Don’t forget I can’t take you to school tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She looked down at my boot. “Tomorrow’s the big day. Are you nervous?”

  I shrugged. “No big deal. I just find out if I get to show off my dance moves at prom or if I’ll still be lugging Frankenstein’s footwear around.”

  “Well, I hope you get good news tomorrow.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course.”

  “Any particular reason?” I teased.

  “Can’t I just want the best for my partner?” she asked with a flirty twinkle in her eyes.

  I loved when she played coy. “Sure, sure. Absolutely.”

  “Why? What did you think I meant?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I mentioned prom, so . . .”

  Her hands flew to her hips. “So, what? You assumed I’d swoon and beg you to take me?”

  Her voice was still teasing, so I shrugged and gave her my best conniving grin. “You wouldn’t be the first girl to beg for a prom date with Nashanova.”

  “Believe me, I know,” she muttered.

  I cocked my head, not liking her tone. “What does that mean?”

  She pressed her lips together like she just realized she’d said too much. “Nothing.”

  “Oh, no way. You can’t say something like that and then say it was nothing.” I mimicked her movements and crossed my arms. “You know I’m going to get it out of you so you might as well save us some time and just spill.”

  “Okay, fine.” She sighed dramatically. “But this never leaves this house, you have to promise me.”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “I’m serious, Wyatt.”

  “As am I.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Prom may or may not have been the reason the I Hate Wyatt Nash Club was formed.”

  I gasped in mock horror, but then I realized she wasn’t joking. “Wait. Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did I . . .” I trailed off, trying to read the expression on her face. “There really is an I Hate Wyatt Nash Club?”

  “Was,” she said softly. “We don’t hate you anymore.”

  “We?” My mouth fell open as my mind struggled to catch up. “Who else hated me?”

  Layne shrugged, unable to meet my eyes. “Lola might have.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you really not know?” Layne asked, disapproval in her voice.

  “Do I look like I have any idea what in the world you’re talking about?”

  She exhaled her frustration, muttering to herself, then finally collected herself enough to speak. “You were flirting with Lola last year about prom and I guess you made it sound like the two of you would be going together, and . . .”

  I finished her sentence. “And we didn’t.” Guilt stabbed me as I realized how awful this must’ve made me look to her. “Layne, I never asked Lola to go with me.”

  “Maybe not, but whatever you did say made Lola turn down everyone else who asked her. She bought a dress and everything, thinking that you were going to make some grand gesture and ask her. And when you didn’t . . . Well, let’s just say you ruined two girls’ proms that night.”

  “How?”

  “Because I ended up skipping prom to stay home and console her.”

  “Layne . . . I didn’t know.” I found myself at a complete loss. “I mean, I don’t stand people up. I wouldn’t do that. Tell me you at least know me that well.”

  “I do, but you have to admit, you do flirt a lot.”

  “Yes, but flirting is just flirting. It isn’t hurting anyone.”

  “It can.” Layne’s cheeks flamed again as she looked down. “I know joking and being flirty is your personality, but it can be hard to know when you’re being serious or not.”

  I stood up from the barstool I’d been occupying and began to pace Layne’s kitchen.

  “Wyatt, I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” Layne said, coming over to stop me.

  “I didn’t!”

  “I know,” she repeated, softly.

  I heard the words she was saying but it wasn’t enough. I needed to make this right. I shoved my hands through my hair in aggravation. “Can you give me Lola’s number, please?”

  “What? Why?”

  “I need to apologize.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, it was a long time ago. She said she’s over it.”

  “Well, obviously not if there’s an I Hate Wyatt Nash Club!” I shouted.

  Layne grabbed my hands, which I hadn’t noticed were flailing about. “Wyatt, there’s not really a club.”

  I exhaled, letting the warmth of Layne’s touch calm me. “Maybe not, but I still feel bad. I don’t like the idea of someone out there hating me. Especially your best friend.”

  “She doesn’t hate you, Wyatt.”

  I gritted my teeth as things began to click in place. “No, but I bet she told you not to trust me.”

  Layne bit her lip and my heart sank. It was all the answer I needed. “Well, I guess she wasn’t wrong,” I said bitterly. “I do have my lovely reputation.”

  Layne moved closer, her hands moving up my arms to rest on my chest. It forced me to look into her big brown eyes. “Wyatt, I can make my own decisions. And I know you’re not a bad guy.”

  “I don’t want to be. Not since I met you, at least.”

  She blinked up at me looking unsure what to say. As I looked into her warm eyes, I didn’t even care that the truth slipped out. Because she did make me want to be a better man. And somehow, I was going to prove to her that I was.

  I would just have to find a way to show Layne that I was worth a second chance.

  I could make this right. I had to.

  Because when this competition was over, I didn’t want any misunderstandings between us. I was going to make my intentions clear to Layne and there couldn’t be any doubt left in her mind that I was speaking the truth.

  I pulled Layne into a quick embrace, allowing myself one moment of weakness as I inhaled her scent. It renewed me with the strength I needed.

  A plan already formulating, I pulled away from her. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you after my doctor appointment tomorrow.”

  Layne looked shocked by my sudden departure, but I kissed her quickly on the cheek and headed out the door.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Layne

  Wyatt wasn’t at school the next day. I knew he wo
uldn’t be, but I still found myself looking for him everywhere. I really wished he’d scheduled his doctor appointment for any other day.

  I looked around the halls, as the eyes of my classmates followed me everywhere. I picked up my pace and kept my head down, trying to pretend I didn’t know they were all whispering about me.

  Of all the days for Wyatt to miss school . . . I needed him today.

  As promised, he’d tipped off the Tattler about my identity and now everyone was looking at me wondering if it could really be true. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them. Labels were hard to shake in high school and I’d been labeled as the quiet band geek on day one. Asking people to believe that I had the voice of a diva buried somewhere deep inside of me was a stretch. But still, I was glad Wyatt made me do it.

  So far, I was grateful for everything he’d made me do. He was really taking this whole project seriously. And he was actually really good at it. From forcing me out of my comfort zone, to knowing exactly how to present my music to the world. He saw the best in me and that made me not want to let him down.

  Which was why I’d been too scared to look at the Tattler app again even though I could see I had like a billion notifications. I was afraid to see that everyone had changed their tune now that they knew the voice they’d been praising was mine.

  That would only kill my confidence and I couldn’t afford to take a hit like that. It would make me too self-conscious to take the stage.

  No, it was much better to hold onto my feelings from yesterday. I could pretend that everyone was still rooting for me for a few more days. The competition was Saturday. I’d been avoiding the Tattler for years. I could go four more days.

  I pulled my phone out in class, staring back down at the app. Maybe I should just delete it so I wouldn’t be tempted to look at all the new comments. My finger hovered over the app. Before I could make a decision, the bell rang, startling me so badly, I dropped my phone.

  I rushed from my desk to pick it up before it was trampled by the stampede of students rushing from the classroom, but someone beat me to it. I sucked in a breath when I saw Candace Kennedy pick up my phone.