Hollywood Hills (12 page)

And the whole time, Alexa was remembering.

Hysterities. My plot in life. You’re so wacky.

The words wouldn’t leave her head. The more she and Jonah kissed and touched, the more Alexa remembered.

Challenging my craft. It’s organic. You know it’s all fake, right?

As Jonah backed her up against the side of the hot tub, kissing her neck, Alexa remembered how her heart
hadn’t
palpitated in the limo, how she’d realized Jonah wouldn’t understand her photography, and how he made her want to laugh—but for all the wrong reasons.

And, in the middle of Malibu, with her lips against a movie star’s, living out every sane girl’s dream, Alexa St. Laurent came to a simple realization:

She wasn’t that into Jonah Eklundstrom.

The thought was so startling that Alexa literally gasped and pulled away. She swept her eyes over Jonah’s confused face, wondering if she was going insane. But no. The realization held. This wasn’t right for her.
He
wasn’t right for her. Jonah raised his brows at Alexa, his hands still lingering on her hips, his fingers tickling the skin beneath the waistband of her bikini. Alexa knew that this was the classic cliff-hanger moment between guy and girl, when things could either go in the direction of lights, camera, action…or not.

“Cut,” Alexa whispered, and Jonah’s eyes grew round; that language, he understood.

“Do you not want to—you know—out here?” he asked. “We can go inside…”

Alexa shook her head, taking Jonah’s hands and guiding them off her hips. She didn’t want to “you know” out here,
or
in the house. She didn’t want to with Jonah. Period. Yes, he was dizzyingly hot, hotter than the water that burned up her skin. Yes, he’d been nothing but attentive and kind—which, of course, only made him sexier. But for maybe the first time
ever
, Alexa understood that true passion
couldn’t
be faked or acted. She couldn’t make herself fall in love with Jonah, even if she wanted to.

Alexa put her hand against her chest to feel the rhythmic thumping of her heart. She wished it would listen to her sometimes, but it always seemed to have a mind of its own.

“Is everything okay?” Jonah asked, sounding anxious. Alexa realized she’d been motionless, her hand pressed to her heart. “Am I moving too fast?”

Alexa almost wished Jonah would stop being so sweet; it was going to make what she had to do that much harder. She shook her head and backed up a few paces in the water. “No, you’re fine,” she told him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jonah’s brow creased. “But you’re not acting like yourself,” he observed.

“Maybe I am,” Alexa murmured. “Maybe that’s been the problem all along.” Jonah
didn’t
know her, Alexa realized. Anyone who thought she was easygoing didn’t know her in the slightest. Margaux had predicted that Alexa and her brother would get along—and they had. But Alexa didn’t want a boy she got along with. She wanted someone who would understand her so well that he’d challenge her between every kiss.

“What are you doing? I don’t understand,” Jonah sputtered, shaking his head in frustration.

Holding his gaze, Alexa reached out to run her damp hand along the side of his face, knowing she owed him an explanation.. “Jonah, I’m so sorry,” she said truthfully. “I know it’s sudden, but…this isn’t what I want right now.”

Jonah frowned at Alexa. “It’s about Charity, isn’t it? The kissing scene today? I promise you it’s all phony, Alexa.” He caught her hand and held it against his stubbly cheek. “I know you must have doubts about me, about us, because I’m an actor, and I’m all famous and shit, but I—”

“Jonah, it’s not that. Honestly.”
I don’t care that you’re an actor
—
I’m just not feeling it with you.
Alexa wondered how, or if, she could phrase that sentiment tactfully. But it was true; although the thought of
Charity Durst still got under Alexa’s skin, Alexa realized she wasn’t—and had never been—that jealous of the actress.

Especially since Alexa knew she was about a thousand times cuter.

“I just can’t,” Alexa said. Hoping she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life, she withdrew her hand from Jonah’s face and turned to pull herself out of the hot tub. But Jonah’s hand on her arm stopped her. His face, devastatingly handsome in the starlight, was etched with disappointment.

Alexa braced herself for his rebuttal; after all, Jonah was Hollywood royalty—he could do and say whatever he wanted. He could easily send her away from his estate or disinvite her to Margaux’s wedding. If there was any moment for Jonah to shed his niceguy image and flaunt his inner asshole, this was it. Alexa bit her lip, but to her surprise, Jonah’s expression softened.

“Total, total respect, Alexa,” he said, nodding at her. “You’re your own person, you’re on your own journey, and I’m just grateful that I got to…” Jonah paused, running a hand through his wet dark hair. “Spend a part of that journey
with
you.”

As always, Alexa was a little unclear as to what Jonah was talking about but she decided a soft “Me, too” was a safe response.

The corner of Jonah’s mouth lifted. “And maybe you’ll change your mind before you leave LA. But that’s entirely up to you.”

Clearly, Jonah Eklundstrom didn’t
have
an inner asshole.

Alexa gave him a grateful smile, and then got out of the hot tub, shivering as the cool ocean air hit her damp skin. “Thanks for understanding,” she called softly, walking backward.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jonah called back, but there was a question in his voice.

Alexa turned away from the hot tub and began to cross the soft grass, her flip-flops in her hand and the moon sailing the sky above her. Once again, she felt as if she were part of a scene in a movie. But, Alexa realized as something that felt suspiciously like relief rose up in her, the movie wasn’t a drama. It was a romantic comedy. That was what she and Jonah had been trapped in—a bad romantic comedy, with clunky dialogue and not-great chemistry between the leads.

And, somehow, as she slipped back inside the guesthouse, shut the door, and took a deep, steadying breath, Alexa sensed that this wasn’t the end of the film just yet. LA, in all its wildness and glamour, still waited out there, and so did Jonah.

Who knew what else might happen before the final credits rolled?

“I can’t believe you dumped Jonah Eklundstrom,” Holly declared the next morning as she and Alexa sprawled across lounge chairs on the guesthouse sundeck, watching the ocean’s turquoise surface glimmer through the ficus trees. Lingering jet lag had awoken both girls early, but they’d been too wiped out from their respective nights out to do more than pull on bikinis and collapse in the sunshine. Birds were twittering brightly and El Sueño’s friendly gardener, Miguel, was humming as he trimmed the nearby hedges, clearly listening in on the girls’ juicy conversation.

“I didn’t
dump
him,” Alexa argued as she adjusted her sunglasses on her face. “It’s not like we were ever officially together.”

She sighed and glanced across the estate’s
sprawling grounds. According to Miguel, Jonah had left for Paramount at dawn, and Alexa was grateful that she didn’t have to see him that morning. She was sure that the eternally laid-back Jonah wouldn’t make things awkward between them, but Alexa herself felt a little uneasy about what she’d done. She knew she needed to hash out her decision with Holly before she could feel one hundred percent about it.

“Still, you blew him off,” Holly argued, but she grinned as she said it. After her eventful night, she’d slept fitfully, imagining herself going bankrupt because of her new dress, and remembering the somewhat strained conversation she’d had with Tyler outside the Cabana Club (“Maybe you should just call me back when it works for you,” Tyler had said, his voice distant). But Alexa’s riveting Jonah story had taken Holly’s mind off her fatigue. “Only you, Alexa St. Laurent. Only you would decide that a gorgeous, millionaire Oscar-winner isn’t, you know,
good enough.
”

“Oh, shut
up.
” Alexa laughed in spite of herself, and swung her foot out to poke Holly’s bare leg. “So sue me. I have high standards.”

“That’s why I love you,” Holly replied, resting her head back on the chair and smiling fondly at Alexa. As surprised as Holly was, she was also secretly impressed; the Alexa she’d always known would never have turned down a guy like Jonah, no matter the circumstances.
What was it Kenya had said last night?
It’s this city. It changes everyone.

Remembering Kenya, Holly sat up straight, checking her watch. “Could I take the Hybrid this morning?” she asked Alexa. Driving home last night along the dark Pacific Coast Highway, listening to the ocean, and singing along to pop songs on KIIS FM, had been strangely freeing—and Holly was eager to get back on the road. Wait until she told Tyler that LA was turning her into a driver.

“Sure, but where are you rushing off to?” Alexa asked, straightening her Noir gold anchor necklace against her collarbone.

Holly swung her legs off her chair. “Well, I’m going to stop at Fred Segal and return my dress before I meet Kenya at UCLA, and
then
guess who called me—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Alexa cut in, whipping off her sunglasses. “Why on earth are you—”

“Because I
have
to,” Holly interrupted, her shoulders slumping. “I thought about it all of last night, Alexa. There’s no way I’ll be able to pay off that credit card bill and
still
manage to buy stuff for college.” Holly was sorrowful at the thought of giving back the pink Catherine Malandrino, but she knew in her gut that it was the right, responsible thing to do. The
Holly
thing to do. “My prom dress is pretty cute, after all,” she added defensively.

“Okay…” Alexa said slowly, tilting to her head to one side. “But that wasn’t what I was about to ask. Why are you going to
UCLA
today?” Alexa couldn’t believe it. Was Holly actually abandoning her in her hour of need? Alexa had been hoping to rehash her Jonah experience at least two more times, as was her and Holly’s custom when discussing boy issues. And she was curious to hear all about Holly’s seemingly exciting night with Kenya, which Holly hadn’t time to get into because, well, Alexa had been talking nonstop since they’d gotten up.

“Oh, right.” Holly bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. “I assumed you were gonna be, uh,
busy
this morning, so I told Kenya I’d meet her before she went to class.”

Alexa scowled and flopped back against the chair, her loose golden bun bouncing. “No, I’m not busy this morning. And I’ll probably never be
busy
again.” Alexa thought of the fake nuns she’d seen on the Paramount lot yesterday; since she’d passed up her chance to hook up with the most beautiful guy on earth, Alexa figured she might as well join their ranks.
Get me to a nunnery.

Alexa’s pay-attention-to-me expression sent a flash of annoyance through Holly. She knew that Alexa wanted her to cancel her plans with Kenya, and tell Alexa that of course she’d get busy again, of course
she hadn’t ruined her love karma by ditching Jonah, and of course everything was going to work out for the best. But Holly didn’t know if all that was even true. And maybe, for once, she didn’t want to be the one to pull Alexa out from beneath the undertow of her own drama.

“We’ll talk about this later, okay?” Holly said, feeling proud of herself as she leaned over to peck Alexa’s cheek. Miguel continued to clip the hedges around the sundeck, filling the morning air with the pungent scent of fresh grass.

“When later?” Alexa asked petulantly, squeezing a dollop of sunscreen into her palm. “Aren’t you and Kenya going to spend all day, like, stretching together or some crap?”

Holly got to her feet, shaking her head in annoyance. “No. If you’d ever let me get a word in edgewise, I was
going
to tell you about my conversation with Seamus last night.”

“Who?” Alexa looked up from the sunscreen she’d begun massaging into her legs.

“Seamus—the guy who
drove
us here, remember?” Holly clarified, rolling her eyes, but she felt a pleasant tickle of warmth remembering her chat with Seamus outside the Cabana Club.

“Unfortunately, I do,” Alexa replied. Did Holly think that news of Mr. Hipper-than-Thou was going
to put Alexa in a better mood? And why had
he
decided to rear his obnoxious head?

“He called and asked if we wanted to meet him late this afternoon,” Holly continued with a smile. She’d thought it very generous of Seamus to have included Alexa in his invite, considering there was clearly no love lost between the two of them. “At the Getty Center,” she added, checking her watch again. “He said it’s some kind of museum up in the—”

“Santa Monica mountains,” Alexa cut in, nodding. She’d read about the Getty in the travel section of
Vogue
last month. The museum supposedly had a kickass photography collection—including an incredible exhibit of Diane Arbus, one of Alexa’s favorite photographers—along with stunning white terraces, lush gardens, and winding streams. Since Holly generally found museums dull, Alexa had been hoping for a chance to sneak away to the Getty alone. But now, she had absolutely no desire to join Holly and Holly’s new soul mate there; Alexa recalled the agonies of sharing a car with them all too well. “Give my regards to the know-it-all,” Alexa added coolly as she busied herself with her sunscreen once more.

Holly remained where she was, her irritation growing by the second. “Alexa, you’re not going to come? You love museums. Even
I’m
looking forward to going.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Alexa replied, plucking at the strap of her Petit Bateau navy-blue polka-dot bikini. In that instant, she decided she’d spend the day shooting photographs of Malibu beaches. She’d gotten the craving for it last night, in the hot tub with Jonah, and she wasn’t one to be deterred. “There’s something else I’d
much
rather do.”

“God, I’m really flattered,” Holly snapped, anger flushing her cheeks. She rarely raised her voice to Alexa, but something—the fact that she was running late to meet Kenya, or perhaps the slightly bitter aftertaste from last night’s talk with Tyler—was putting her on edge. “You know,” she added, certain she would regret the cruelty in her voice a second later. “Maybe Jonah’s lucky that you decided to ditch him. You’re so
difficult
, Alexa. Don’t worry—you won’t stay single forever. But I feel bad for the poor guy who
is
gonna end up with you one day.”

Then Holly put her hands to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say
all
that. Or had she?

Alexa heard her own breath as it caught in her throat. Holly hardly ever criticized Alexa in such a blatant—and ballsy—way. And this time, instead of reacting instantly, instead of firing back, Alexa remained still in her chair and wondered if what Holly had said was true. Maybe she
was
difficult. Too
difficult to fall in love, and too difficult to be a truly good friend. As difficult, perhaps—dare she think it?—as her mother. The thought was so depressing that Alexa felt a lump form in her throat.

“Glad to know you feel that way,” she finally responded, fighting to keep her tone cold and steady. She slid her sunglasses back on, the better to hide what she suspected was a wounded expression in her eyes. Then she tilted her face up to the sun, silently willing Holly to disappear.

Holly tapped one flip-flopped foot against the sundeck, surprised that she didn’t feel more guilty about her blowup. Equally surprising was Alexa’s silence; in the past, her friend would have surely retorted with some bitchy remark about Holly’s lack of boy experience, which would have then led to a full-on snipe-fest. Now, only awkwardness lingered between the girls, thick as the heat. Holly tried to slice through the tension by looking at her stony-faced friend and speaking again. “So maybe we’ll see you at the Getty later?” she offered, her voice softer.

“Uh-huh,” Alexa muttered. She reached down for her frosty-cold Fiji water as Holly flip-flopped off noisily, almost colliding with Miguel. Alexa watched her go, then took a sip from the bottle. She felt she’d made it sufficiently clear that her showing up at the
Getty Center later was about as likely as her mother showing up at Oakridge High’s graduation.

“I can’t wait to graduate from Oakridge,” Holly announced, apropos of nothing, as she and Kenya walked down the wide stone steps of the Ackerman student center, holding ice-cream sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper. After Holly had successfully driven from Malibu to Fred Segal—returning the dress with only a small pang of regret—she’d made her way to Westwood Village, pissed at Alexa the whole time. But meeting Kenya at an adorable offcampus ice-cream shop called Diddy Riese had cheered her up. Savoring their unhealthy breakfasts, the girls had then headed on to UCLA’s campus, where they now stood, at the foot of the student center’s steps.

“What prompted this declaration?” Kenya laughed around a mouthful of espresso ice cream, tucking her books under her free arm.

“I think being
here
,” Holly replied, gazing around at the sun-soaked, bright green campus. The winding paths, grassy hills, and old-fashioned academic buildings were bursting with student activity. A group of girls in tank tops, with multi-colored boogie boards under their arms, flip-flopped past, sipping Jamba Juices and discussing a politicial science class. And clusters
of tanned, mellow-looking students lounged on towels in the grass, reading Descartes and Virginia Woolf. Something about the vibe made Holly’s pulse spike, made her look forward to college in a way she never had before. Rutgers was perfectly pleasant, but visiting the campus had never quite been a thrilling experience.

Now, she was feeling pretty differently.

“In high school,” Holly elaborated, taking a bite out of her cookies-and-cream sandwich. “It’s like you hardly have
any
choices. But this place…” Holly gestured around. “Seems like it’s all about being able to pick and choose what’s right for you. Or am I imagining things?”

“No, it’s true,” Kenya said thoughtfully, brushing a stray braid off her cheek. “Even that first step of choosing the best school for yourself is kind of amazing, and all the rest…just gets even better.”

Did I choose Rutgers?
Holly wondered, feeling a heartbeat of hesitation. The fact that she would go to school there had always seemed preordained—now that Holly thought about it, there
hadn’t
been much choice in the matter. But if she could have, would she have selected differently?

“For instance,” Kenya was saying as she and Holly started down the nearest path. “I have to say there’s something
really
nice about being kind of far from home…knowing that my parents are only a plane
ride away, but that they’re not keeping tabs on me every minute.”

“Okay, you basically just described my fantasy,” Holly joked, imagining a life beyond her parents’ reach. Holly felt a swell of excitement, and pictured herself alone, independent, wandering across campus with her books in her arms and the sun lightening her hair…

“Wait,” she said suddenly, grabbing Kenya’s arm. “Is that a
bear
?”

“Right on,” Kenya said as she and Holly arrived at the statue of a bronze, roaring grizzly. Kenya grinned and proudly patted the bear’s side. “He’s the mascot for our sports teams—the Bruins, of course. California’s big on bears,” Kenya added wisely. “Just check out the state flag.”

“The Bruins,” Holly echoed as she and Kenya started walking again. Holly cast a smile back at the bear, which now seemed a little friendlier to her. She remembered when UCLA’s track team coach had called her back in January to recruit her, and had told Holly about the Bruins’ impressive records. “So what’s the track program like here?” Holly asked Kenya, swallowing the last of her ice-cream sandwich. Earlier, Kenya had taken Holly past the gorgeous, crimsoncolored Drake track—which had practically invited
Holly to go for a run. It was funny how easily she was able to picture herself on this campus.

“Well…” Kenya said, as if she were stalling. She took another bite of her ice-cream sandwich and straightened her red Timbuk2 messenger bag across her chest. The girls were heading down Bruin Walk, a tree-lined path along which students shouted about political petitions, free movie tickets, and upcoming concerts, all while waving bright yellow flyers and blue-and-gold Bruins pennants. Holly felt another rush of appreciation for the energetic, college-y feel.