Spotlight by Eden Finley Page 0,2
top of the boy who was humming the Eleven song but is now lying on the floor.
I pull myself through the tunnel exit and stand, though the roof is about six inches too short. I hit my head but ignore the pain, craning my neck to fit properly. “Kaylee Margaret Kennedy. Let that boy go.” My voice is the firmest it’s ever been with her, so she does it immediately.
“But—”
“No buts. Say you’re sorry.”
Behind me, the boy’s dad gets to his feet.
He’s my height, so he headbutts the roof like I did as he stands. “Ah, mother flipping f—ire truck.” He glances at the kids. “Chase, what happened?”
“She kicked me!” the boy yells.
Kaylee faces me with big, round, green eyes that are welling up because she knows she’s in trouble. “He pushed in front of me. And you said if someone hurt me, I have to ’fend myself.”
I drop to my knees so we’re eye to eye. “Honey, I meant if someone bit you at school. Or hit you. It’s never okay to kick someone. You know that.”
“Chase, are you okay?” the boy’s dad asks.
I turn to face him. “Hey, man, I’m so sorry. She’s just learning how to be social with other kids. She might not have the hang of it yet.”
And after almost five years of parenting, I’m beginning to think I have no fucking clue what I’m doing either.
The guy doesn’t reply to me, but his eyes do widen. His hypnotic, softer than I’m expecting, hazel eyes.
The look he’s pulling now is one I’ve seen a million times on a million different faces. Recognition is hitting him.
“Uh, umm … yeah. Okay. I mean, no problem. I mean, it is a problem, but kids test boundaries all the time. Umm, you, uh, handled that well.”
I have to admit I really like him fumbling for words and getting flustered.
“Thanks. Not bad for someone who’s lazy and cliché, am I right?” I smirk.
“I-I’m sorry. I … I mean, it’s you. And aww, shi … vers. I’m sorry.”
While the blubbering is cute and I want to see more of it, I need to leave before he tells the whole place who I am. “It’s all good. Come on, Kaylee. Let’s go home.”
“Lyric, who is that?”
Ah, the boy is young enough to know my songs but not old enough to know what I look like.
Also, did he just say Lyric? Really?
I reach my hand out for the boy. “Hi, I’m Ryder from Eleven.”
Chase’s face lights up. “You are? Really?”
“Really. I always love meeting a fan.”
He shakes my hand so hard I think it might fall off. He’s adorable. His blond hair flops into his eyes.
“I’m sorry my daughter kicked you.”
“And hey,” Lyric says, “I’m sorry too. For, uh, you know, what I said.”
I half want to lecture the guy on sticking to his opinions. Eleven’s music isn’t for everyone. He doesn’t have to kiss my ass because he realizes I’m an actual human being and not just a celebrity figure who doesn’t exist in real life.
People think being famous means you’re fair game when it comes to criticism. They don’t realize we’re just like everyone else.
I stand tall again, ducking my head under the short roof. “No need to be polite now. But we really should be going before anyone else recognizes me.”
“We won’t tell anyone,” Chase says.
“I don’t want to go!” Kaylee yells.
“I know, bub, but—”
“We won’t,” Lyric says.
I meet his gaze and hate that mistrust is my first instinct. It’s always my first instinct because it has to be. For all I know, he’ll say that now, then as we go to leave, I’ll face a wall of paparazzi.
As if sensing my distrust, he offers a small smile. “I’ll even buy you a coffee to replace the one you practically threw at my head.”
Oh. Now it might be my turn to apologize. “Sorry. And for, uh, kicking you. I heard her screaming and—”
He holds up his hand. “I get it. Parent’s instinct. I’m the same way with Chase, and he’s not even mine.”
I cock my head.
“Oh, wow, that totally sounded like I kidnapped him, huh? He’s my brother’s kid. I babysit him. I promise. Chase, tell him I’m your uncle.”
Chase grins up at me. “He’s my uncle. He likes boys not girls, but Mom and Dad say that’s okay because boys are allowed to love boys and girls can love girls.”
Lyric covers his face. “Too much information, Chase.”
And an interesting turn of events.
“I think kissing is gross,” Chase adds. “Boy