Her mouth twisted a bit. "Guess it's hard for your dad, too, huh?"
He nodded, thinking about the conversation he'd had with his father back when he was still trying to get Kelsey's attention. "Yeah," he admitted. "It is."
She took his hand and they started walking again. They'd veered off the path and were now walking on the green toward the cluster of trees. "At least people see you and talk to you," she said. "They notice you because of the name and your family. I'm invisible."
He pulled her to a stop again, then searched her face, his heart breaking a little at the truth he saw there. A truth he didn't understand, because she was amazing. Sweet and smart and funny and talented. He could spend days talking to her, sitting with her, or just quietly holding her hand. He could, and yet he couldn't, because her parents kept her on such a tight leash.
"You're not invisible to me," he said, and he almost kissed her right then. Instead, he brushed her lips with the tip of his finger.
She sighed with more passion and longing than he'd ever heard from any of the girls he'd dated.
That's when he knew. He wasn't just Wyatt anymore. He was Wyatt and Kelsey.
And damned if that didn't feel nice.
"Have you ever been kissed?"
Her eyes shot up to his, and he wasn't sure if it was excitement he saw there, or terror.
She swallowed, then shook her head. "No," she whispered.
That little word made him happier than it should. "I'm going to be your first, Kelsey Draper."
"Oh." A pink stain flooded her cheeks. "Okay."
"But not today."
"Oh." Now the word was laced with disappointment, and damned if that didn't make him feel good, too. "When?" she added.
But he only smiled, released her hand, and said, "Race you to the trees."
The next day, he brought her tickets to the ballet. He pulled her around the rec center to the service doors because nobody ever went there, and handed her a small, flat box. Then he had to fight not to smile like an idiot as he watched the awe on her face when she opened it and drew out the two printed pieces of paper.
"Wyatt. This is amazing. You got me tickets to Swan Lake?"
"You like?"
"It's one of my favorite ballets ever. This is incredible."
"You're incredible," he said and was surprised when she frowned.
"It's in Los Angeles," she said. "My father's never going to let me go."
"Really? Not even to the ballet? It's cultural."
She lifted her shoulders, and it killed him the way she seemed to be sinking into herself. He hadn't met her dad, but she'd told him enough. And Wyatt had seen the man, too. Leonard Draper worked ten-hour days at the club, so even though he was usually out on the golf course or overseeing the maintenance of the shrubs and flowers in the various public areas, he was around enough that Wyatt had managed to pick him out. A lean, lanky man with a hard face and the leathery skin of someone who'd worked outside his whole life.
Only his eyes reminded him of Kelsey. But where hers were as blue as the Caribbean, his seemed as distant and cold as a glacier.
Wyatt watched her face, now drained of the joy that had lit her from within only a few moments before. Bastard. He didn't know what Leonard Draper's problem was, but he knew it pissed him off. And that if the rules he made regarding his daughter denied Kelsey access to all the things she loved, then the rules were stupid.
And Wyatt didn't have a problem breaking stupid rules.
"We don't have to tell your dad," he said.
Her eyes went wide. "If he ever found out . . . I mean, the dance competition was here. And he was out of town. And I could have just told him I got a ticket all on my own because I wanted to see the dancing. I would have gotten in trouble, but not for being with a boy. But this? If he finds out. . . ." She shuddered. "Not telling him would be as bad as going to the ballet in the first place."
"What does he have against the ballet?"
"He . . . he just doesn't think it's right for me. Watching it is okay. But not watching it with a boy all the way in Los Angeles."
"Do you have any girlfriends here?"
For a moment, she looked at him blankly. Then her eyes went wide, and she hugged herself, then looked at her watch. "I need to run. I've got to get Griffin."
"No, you don't," he said, with a quick glance at his own watch. "You've got at least five more minutes." But he was saying the last to the air. Kelsey had already sprinted away.