Holly Hearts Hollywood (17 page)

“Being bossy is so not okay,” Meredith said firmly.

“But it’s hot when Wolverine bosses around Rogue and Jean Gray.”

“Okay, that’s true. But still, does Keller look like Hugh Jackman?”

“No, he looks like Anderson Cooper, remember?”

“Oh, right. Well, don’t freak out too much, like you usually do. You aren’t even dating yet.”

Ivy slumped into the room and looked at me strangely. “Are you talking to that stupid boyfriend of yours?” she said loudly.

“Did your sister call me stupid?” Meredith asked, her voice bored. She’s used to Ivy’s antics. Ivy flung herself on to the bed.

“Hang up, we have to wake up early to pack up our stuff and move.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Mer.”

“Bye!” she chirped. I wanted to tell Meredith about Grayson, but there’s this strange part of me that wants to keep it a secret.

Ivy threw her legs across my lap and flexed her toes. “Are your friends still dating each other? “

“Yeah,” I said cautiously, dreading whatever horribly judgmental thing Ivy was preparing to say.

“Good,” she cracked her knuckles. “Cedar Junction needs some diversity.”

I looked at her in astonishment. “Since when do you care about diversity?”

“Hey, I live in LA now. You have to care about diversity here, or people in class call you a bigot,” she paused and looked at me sideways. “By the way, what’s a bigot?”

On the bright side, my sister seems like she’s trying to be a better person.

I give her a week.

HOMEWORK:

Calculus:
Review for test on Chapter Ten.

Spanish:
Que?

Economics:
Something involving numbers. Call Jennifer.

English:
Book report on
Crime and Punishment
. Yikes.

March 6
^th
, 9:00am—Pink Palm Motel

Praise Baby Jesus, Buddha, and anyone else who might be listening! It’s my last few hours in this hellhole of a motel. Almost one month in this place is too long. It’s turned me off from salmon pink forever.

Luckily, most of my stuff was already in boxes. My things have been trickling in from Cedar Junction, but most have been in a storage container a block from here. However, the bathroom is a different story. It seems every eye shadow palette, shampoo bottle, and lip-gloss tube I’ve ever owned has managed to find its way into every available storage space and onto every surface. Don’t even get me started on Ivy’s jewelry collection. The bracelets are in a tight, tangled pile underneath some cotton balls in the bottom drawer. It’ll take a locksmith to get them separated.

But, since my life is nothing but one big continuous plot-twist lately, the surprises weren’t over yet. Just when I thought a B minus on a math test and a new house was enough, Lacey decided to come traipsing in without warning. I’ve never felt guilt like this before. It was bone-crushing, soul-sucking guilt. I know
Grayson
technically kissed
me
, but I didn’t stop him, and I didn’t tell Lacey either, which makes me as bad as him. Now that I think about it, why
didn’t
I stop Grayson when he kissed me the first time? I let him kiss me twice! I was obviously in shock.

“Whoa,” she said, stepping lightly around some suitcases. “Are you finally moving?”

“Yeah!” I grunted as I pushed a box across the room. Lacey, of course, looked like she was on her way to an awards show with her perfectly curled hair, expertly applied makeup, and gorgeous outfit.

“I have the best news!” she squealed, which made me feel a little relieved. If she was happy, then Grayson must’ve kept his big, soft mouth shut. “I’ve been invited to the nomination ceremony for the Country Music Awards!”

I stood upright, my back throbbing from the movement. “Really? Do you think you’ll be nominated for anything??”

Lacey waved her hand dismissively. Her rings glittered in the light. “No, silly. The album only came out the other week. Speaking of which, Mr. Salazar called to tell me that
Small Town Dreamer
sold over 600,000 copies in its first week!”

If it were physically possible for my jaw to hit the floor, it would’ve hit the floor and drilled its way to China. “You’re kidding me. Really?” I was floored. I know Lacey is the one on the cover, but that’s still my voice on the CD that sold 600,000 copies in a week! Those are Beyoncé-level sales.

Lacey bounced up and down on the balls of her heels. “I know! That’s half the reason we’re going.”

“We?” I asked.

“Grayson and I,” she elaborated. “And you’re coming to the after party, of course.”

“Of course?” I repeated.

Lacey looked taken aback. “Well, yeah. Since when I have I not had you with me at a party?”

“Well, we’re two for two so far.”

Lacey smiled. “Third time’s the charm.” She glanced around at the boxes around her feet. “Are all these yours?”

“No,” I said, returning to the ridiculously heavy box of God-knows-what. “We have a ton of stuff in storage. I think my mom’s borrowing a truck from a friend or something, I’m not sure how we’re moving all this stuff.”

Lacey pulled her phone out of her Michael Kors bag. “Nonsense, Grayson will bring his Escalade and help.”

I tripped and nearly knocked my front tooth out on the corner of the box.

“He will?”

But Lacey was already on the phone, asking Grayson in a sticky-sweet voice to come help. What was I supposed to say? If I complained too much, Lacey would get suspicious. I didn’t want to give her any reason to ask questions. I like Lacey, and she seems to like me for the most part. She’d be a terrible enemy.

When she hung up, she blew me a kiss.

“I’ll see you later!” she chirped. “I’ll send Karl to come get you for Blake and Miranda’s party tonight.”

“Wait,” I said as she headed out, “you aren’t helping?”

She laughed. “That’s what Grayson is for.” And then she was gone.

Oh God, when Ivy and Mom get back from Starbucks and find Grayson Frost hauling boxes, it’s going to be a nightmare. I hope he isn’t wearing baggy pants. Actually, Grayson’s jeans always fit nicely. Not that I’ve noticed or anything.

Later, 3:00pm—Home at last!

My sister is so predictable. She screamed, hollered, and took a million photos of Grayson when he arrived. She asked about getting an agent and wanted to know if he needed any backup dancers, which was ridiculous—he isn’t Justin Timberlake. He doesn’t need girls doing body rolls behind him while he sings about his tractor.

However, what wasn’t predictable was how freaking
nice
Grayson was. He answered every one of Ivy’s questions politely, he posed for a thousand photos, and let her hug him as many times as she wanted. I think the world has turned inside out. I don’t understand that boy. I thought he’d try to sweep me off my feet or do a lot of suave winking and make innuendos to make me blush. But he greeted me like he always had, as if I were a casual acquaintance. What does that mean? Has he lost interest? Is he trying to play it cool? Why do I even
CARE?

After Ivy’s interrogation, Grayson dove right in and started hauling boxes out to his pearl-white Escalade. I was relieved to see there weren’t any spinning rims on the wheels. In only a few trips, he had every single box from the motel and storage compartment at the new house.

“This is a nice place,” he said to me as he lugged the last box inside.

“Oh, you think so? It’s not as nice as your house, of course,” I said awkwardly, regretting it immediately. My goal was to avoid mentioning anything that could remind him of kissing me, bringing up his house was the opposite of that plan.

“Home is where you make it,” he said, apparently not noticing me writhing in embarrassment.

“That sounds like the kind of phrase embroidered on throw pillows,” I replied, feeling less awkward and a little more like myself.

He smiled at me and pushed his hair off his forehead. “Oh, it is. My mom stitched it onto a pillow in the living room herself.” He took a long drink from his water bottle. “She made it after we moved to Nashville from Iowa.”

My hands grew sweaty at the simple mention of Iowa. “Oh, she did?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t very happy with the move.”

Now I was confused. “But you moved to Nashville and started your music career. That doesn’t sound bad.”

He pulled on his sleeves. “Yeah, but I left my friends, family, and home behind. I lived there for fourteen years, it wasn’t easy to pick up and leave. You know how it is.” He looked over at me, but I couldn’t tell if the look was meant to be meaningful or not.

I remember the day Grayson Frost moved away. It was one of the best days of my life, although to most girls in Cedar Junction, it was the worst day imaginable. He left right before high school, the age of dances and dates. Everyone was devastated, but I was elated. With Grayson gone, I thought people would stop bullying me. I was wrong on that front—Grayson just taught people how to bully me. They managed fine without him and got even more creative in high school.

“Oh, I guess that makes sense.”

Grayson leaned against a wall and crossed his arms in front of him, which made his arms look even more muscular. “Don’t you miss Cedar Junction?”

“Kind of,” I said. “My grandparents are a pain, so I don’t miss them. I barely even call them. I miss my friends, but I don’t miss town or school.”

“What about your dad? Is he in Cedar Junction still?” he asked.

It was an innocent question, but it was a knife to my heart. I was only six when he died, I barely remember him at all. But he is a missing presence. I’m supposed to have a dad— he’s supposed to teach me how to drive and threaten my boyfriend to take care of me and walk me down the aisle. But can I miss something I never had?

“My dad died when I was six,” I said, careful to not let my voice waver. I must be premenstrual. I’m not usually prone to tears around others, especially not boys. And even more so around a person I’m actively trying to despise.

Grayson’s smile fell. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No, it’s fine!” I said quickly, panicked by the look of concern on his face. “Really, it’s fine.” But it wasn’t fine. To be honest, it bothered me that he didn’t remember my father’s death after all the years we spent together in the same town. My mom pulled me out of kindergarten for a month.

Mom and Ivy stormed into the room then, chattering away about furniture and window curtains. I told Grayson goodbye a little while ago and ran into my room to write this. It’s nice to have my own room where I can write without Ivy constantly interrupting—

Later, 5:30pm—Home

Just when I thought I’d gotten rid of him, Grayson knocked on my bedroom door. I stomped over to the door, totally prepared to yell at my sister, and nearly ran into Grayson’s chest instead. Getting that close to him again was definitely not on my to-do list.

“Whoa,” he said. “Where’s the fire?”

“Oh,” I stepped back, completely startled by his re-appearance. “Sorry, I thought you were my sister.” I noticed he had a guitar in each hand. “Do you usually carry two guitars around?”

He raised them up and smiled widely. “Guitar lessons, remember?”

“Now?” I asked, completely flabbergasted. How could he think guitar lessons would be a good idea? Why would he want to give me lessons after I
rejected
him?

“It’ll be more fun than unpacking,” he smiled and held one of the guitars out to me. I took it and almost dropped it; it was surprisingly heavy.

“But, I thought you wouldn’t want to after…” I trailed off awkwardly. I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to dance circles around it.

Grayson looked at me, his brows knitted closely together. “You told me I had to prove I was different, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes,” I mumbled. I never thought he’d
actually
attempt to prove himself to me.

“I promised you I’d teach you to play the guitar, and I keep my promises.” I wanted to remind him about his promises to Lacey, but I didn’t think it was the right time.

It was one of the most awkward, yet somehow fun, things I’ve ever done. The first problem was that Grayson constantly touched my hands.
Constantly
. And it wasn’t like a flirty, shoulder-massage kind of touching. He had to keep moving my fingers to the right strings. His fingers were callused from years of guitar playing, but the palms of his hands were surprisingly soft. What am I talking about Grayson’s hands for? They’re just hands. Anyway, playing the guitar is hard! My fingers are so sore from contorting them into all kinds of strange positions. I’m kind of afraid they’ll get stuck like that.

All through the finger bending, chord strumming, and hand touching, Grayson continued talking to me. He asked me about my
hobbies
and my favorite movies and books, almost like we were friends. Which is crazy, because I’m determined to dislike him until I die. I can tolerate his presence if I have to, but I definitely don’t plan on vacationing with him in Cape Cod or whatever. But if those are my goals, then why on Earth did I have a good time with him?

March 7
^th
, 1:30am—Home

I think I’m going to be sick. I’ve never actually been so upset in my life. I’m going to need serious medication after this and probably years of therapy, too. My stress level is
THROUGH THE ROOF.

First, it’s no wonder I’m falling behind in homework. I’m out at these stupid things way too late and way too often. I think the venue of tonight’s party has been my favorite venue so far. It was at the beautiful Redbury Hotel. It felt very Old-Hollywood-glamour with an exotic touch. Everyone was super-excited, or maybe they were all drunk. Blake and Miranda were both nominated for a couple of awards, and they were very chatty. Miranda hugged me when I got here, even though she had no idea who I was.