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the space of an hour -- as if her limbs were literally stretching, and her mind expanding -- to encompass this strange and thrilling new world she'd come upon.
For the rest of May she'd walked the school hallways, run the length of the track, and done her homework with the words I am not a virgin anymore resounding in her head, both tormenting and exciting her. It wasn't until she and Tyler had done it a few more times, and she'd had a good, long talk with Alexa (who was so experienced that she found Holly's obsessing hilarious) that Holly began to adjust to the idea.
And tonight, lying on this white, frilly, virginal bed, Holly felt surprisingly chill about the whole sex thing. She didn't intend to go too far with Tyler right then and there, but being close like this felt so good. As Tyler lowered his head to nibble on her ear, Holly began rubbing the back of his neck. We should lock the door, she thought dazedly, but then Tyler was kissing her again, and their breaths were coming quicker, and Holly was undoing the top buttons on his shirt...
And then the door to the bedroom opened.
"Oh, my God!"
Holly and Tyler started, separated, and turned to see who had exclaimed so loudly. It was Alexa.
"Alexa -- um, wow -- I know this looks bad "
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Holly stammered, straightening the straps of her green Hollister cami while Tyler, his ears scarlet, sat up ramrod straight and began redoing the buttons on his shirt. Holly had a sudden flashback to an early morning in South Beach, when Alexa had walked in on Holly and Tyler cuddling in bed -- and been none too pleased.
"You're here!" Alexa cried, closing the door behind her, then whirling back around to face them.
Holly felt a wave of shame color her face as she ducked her head and swung her legs off the bed. She and her boyfriend had been about to get it on in what was for all intents and purposes Alexa's bedroom. That, my friends, is what we call "classy." Preparing her apology, Holly glanced up at Alexa.
Who looked absolutely thrilled.
Her cheeks were as pink as if she'd gone for a run around the block, which Holly knew was highly unlikely. Her blue eyes were twinkling, her delicate-featured face was glowing, and she was clapping her hands together, her stacked wooden bangles sliding up and down her arm.
"Holly Rebecca Jacobson," Alexa began breathlessly, clearly not giving a damn about the makeout moment she'd interrupted. "Would you do me the honor of being my date at Margaux Eklundstrom's wedding at her Hollywood Hills home this Friday?"
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"What?" Holly whispered. Her stomach jumped in disbelief. "Alexa, stop kidding. How --"
Alexa stepped closer to the bed and, her tone triumphant, recounted the magical meeting in the garden, Margaux's out-of-nowhere invite, and Alexa's ecstatic acceptance. And that, Alexa explained, gesturing to the white iBook on the desk, was why she'd busted into the bedroom -- to look up flights to LA online. She wanted to leave the very next day, in order to attend the bash the Eklundstrom siblings were throwing, and, to build in appropriate shopping time at Fred Segal Melrose, the Beverly Center, and Kitson. Alexa, Holly realized with a burst of excitement, was not kidding.
Glancing apologetically at Tyler, Alexa added that Margaux had specified that she could bring only one guest -- meaning Holly.
"Okay, but who is Margaux Ekle-freak?" Tyler asked, tugging on his blazer and glancing at Holly with a frown. Tyler watched ESPN, not E!, so he was often clueless about pop culture. Plus, getting interrupted mid-hook-up had clearly put him in a grumpy mood.
"You know," Holly told him distractedly, still gaping at Alexa. "She was in that movie, Grit and Gravel." Holly didn't add that she'd found the film, which Alexa had dragged her to last week, pretentious and
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boring as hell. "And she's ..." Holly paused, and felt her heart leap. "Jonah Eklundstrom's sister." Though Holly dismissed most Hollywood celebs as fake, shallow, and scarily tanned, she, like every other straight female in America (including Holly's own mother), had a gargantuan crush on the heavenly-eyed Jonah. She was sure he was utterly pompous in real life, but he made for the most satisfying eye candy.
"Right," Alexa said, a dazzling grin spreading across her face. "And guess whose guesthouse my date and I can stay in this week?" Slowly, dramatically, she removed her Verizon chocolate phone from her purse and held it open toward Holly and Tyler. A text message on the screen listed Jonah's Malibu address.
Holly's head spun. "Jonah Eklundstrom?" she gasped, shakily getting to her feet. A sudden thought made her face flush with excitement. "Alexa! Oh, my God -- hold on! The two of you are so going to get together. You're exactly his type he dated Charity Durst, but you're much prettier -- "
"Relax," Alexa said, letting out her tinkly silver laugh and shaking her head. "We are not going to get together we'll probably barely get to see him. Besides," she added, with a toss of her pale blonde locks, "I doubt he could be as cool as his big sister. Margaux is, like, my new favorite person ever."
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Holly nodded, some of her shock fading. Impossible, fantastical things were always happening to Alexa whether it was a guy whisking her up to an orchid-strewn rooftop or a French tabloid snapping her photo --- so her becoming BFFs with a crazily famous actress kind of seemed like the next logical step. "Still," Holly argued, grinning, "imagine getting to stay on his property, with all the gorgeous Malibu beaches right there...." A couple of weeks ago, in between cramming for finals, Alexa and Holly had sacked out in Alexa's den and watched a Laguna Beach/The Hills marathon on MTV, eating sliced kiwi, braiding each other's hair, and completely losing themselves in the California surf-and-sun scene.
"I thought you hated the West Coast."
Holly spun around to regard Tyler, who had spoken quietly, his eyes on the white carpet. Holly bit her lip, feeling as if her boyfriend had brought her crash-landing back to Earth.
"Well, I've never actually been farther west than, like, Ohio," she murmured. But Holly also knew exactly what Tyler meant. Despite -- or maybe because of -- her interest in Laguna Beach, and the occasional episode of Entourage, Holly had always pictured LA as a sunlit wonderland of silicone, bleached teeth, and people screaming at their agents. In other words, the kind of place where down-to-earth, sporty Holly
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wouldn't fit in at all. True, the former captain of Holly's track team, Kenya Matthews, was a freshman at UCLA, and had been the one to encourage Holly to apply to the university. But even while e-mailing in her application, Holly had known she wouldn't want to live so far from home, and in a city so phony and weird.
Still, how many times in her solid, dependable New Jersey life would she be handed the silver platter chance of attending a wedding amid palm trees and paparazzi? The last wedding Holly had been to was her aunt Janet's tacky, all-pink shindig in Leonard's of Great Neck, a wedding hall on Long Island that resembled a pastry puff. Holly wasn't Alexa; the fairy dust of outrageous fortune rarely rained down on her (except, of course, when she was with Alexa). Her skin tingled as she thought of all the wild stories she'd have for the other counselors at sports camp, her roommates at Rutgers, and her starstruck mom, who would definitely overlook her no-traveling-without-a-guardian rule this one time.
But then Tyler looked up to meet her gaze, his expression sober, and Holly felt a wave of guilt mixed with clarity. I can't go, she realized, feeling neither disappointed nor upset --- but simply resigned. Only-one guest, Alexa had said. Whether they went camping or not, Holly and Tyler had counted on spending this
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week together. And Holly remembered all too well what had happened the last time she and Tyler had been apart for a stretch of time - when she'd gone to Europe and he'd stayed in Oakridge. She couldn't abandon him again. Not even for Jonah and Margaux Eklundstrom.
"So?" Alexa was saying, tapping one wooden heel on the carpet. "If you want to get yourself to those Malibu beaches, babe, let's go online and -- "
Holly turned to Alexa and let out a de
ep breath. "You know what," she said steadily, feeling Tyler's eyes on her back. "There's no way I can leave Oakridge at such short notice, and my parents won't ever "
"Oh, come on, your mom will push you onto the plane so that you can bring her back Jonah's autograph," Alexa cut in with a giggle, echoing Holly's earlier thoughts.
"But Tyler's right. I wouldn't feel comfortable in Hollywood," Holly argued, knowing it was true. "And," she added hurriedly before Alexa could protest, "this week won't work for me anyway. I'm sorry, Alexa. I just -- I can't be your date." Holly felt a little flare of pride at how firm she'd managed to sound. She met Alexa's wide-eyed stare, silently challenging her friend -- whom Holly had aptly nicknamed "Little Miss Bossy" when they were younger -- to argue with her.
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Alexa, her pouty princess mouth turned down at the corners, reached up to toy with the high neck of her sleeveless lacy white top. "Hoi, did you forget?" she asked, her voice soft and plaintive. "Rodeo Drive?"
Rodeo Drive. Holly's stomach dropped.
What she'd forgotten was that Alexa St. Laurent was a master of persuasion. And, once again, she'd hit her bull's-eye.
As a precursor to their days of lazy Laguna Beach- watching, Alexa and Holly, when they were eleven, had loved nothing better than to sequester themselves in Alexa's bedroom and bask in the glow of a forbidden DVD. Because Alexa's father (whose philosophy was that les enfants shouldn't be too sheltered) never asked what they were watching, the girls imbibed American Pie, Dirty Dancing, and, one fateful Saturday night, Pretty Woman.
Though the she's-a-hooker setup went over their heads (or at least Holly's head), both girls were equally enraptured by Julia's sublime shopping spree in Beverly Hills. Later that night, sleeping bags spread out side by side on Alexa's pink shag rug, the girls had hooked pinkies and whispered a vow that one day they'd go to LA and make a pilgrimage to Rodeo Drive. Together. Holly knew that their Pretty Woman pact walked that fine line between sweet and dorky, but it
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was just one of those things. Only close-as-sisters friends could understand the power that silly, embarrassing oaths had in forging the deepest of bonds.
But Holly also had a bond with Tyler. She sat back down onto the bed beside him, and reached for his hand. "I'm sorry," she told Alexa simply. "You'll have to pay tribute to Julia without me." She tried to smile, but the lump in her throat and the deflated look on Alexa's face made it difficult.
"This is so wrong," Tyler murmured.
Alexa gave a noisy sigh and pretended to search for something in her clutch, which Holly knew was her friend's classic, I-couldn't-care-less gesture. "You know, Tyler, I did apologize about only being able to bring Holly --" Alexa began.
"No." Tyler shook his head. He thoughtfully turned Holly's hand over in his palm, then glanced at her face. "What's wrong is that you want to go, Hoi, but you feel like you shouldn't, because of me." He paused while Holly held her breath. "And that's really stupid."
"It is?" Holly asked in a small voice. A bubble of hope rose in her chest. Alexa stopped rooting around in her clutch.
"Uh-huh," Tyler replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "You need to do this, Hoi. Come on, Hollywood's named after you -- maybe it's fate." He laughed at his own joke, a move that was so patently Tyler that Holly
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felt herself choke up. What had she done to deserve such a good, kind, caring boyfriend, one who knew her better than she knew herself?
"Sweetie," she ventured, stroking the side of his face. "What about camping?" As Holly spoke, she felt cautious joy building in her; maybe, just maybe, this was her passport out of the dreaded family jaunt. She didn't dare make eye contact with Alexa, who Holly knew was probably wearing a megawatt smile.
"I'll break it to your parents, if that will help," Tyler said, confirming Holly's happy suspicions. "There'll be other camping trips."
She squeezed his hand, speechless. "You're ---you're awesome," she whispered, using his favorite word. She couldn't think how else to express her gratitude.
Tyler kissed her cheek, then stood and straightened the lapels of his blazer. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starved," he announced with what Holly thought sounded a little like forced cheerfulness. "When you ladies are ready to head back to Oakridge, I'll be in the kitchen, making friends with the cheese tray." He chuckled, and left.
There was a beat of stillness after Tyler shut the door behind him.
Then Alexa and Holly looked at each other, and screamed.
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"I can't believe it!" Holly burst out, leaping to her feet as Alexa practically jumped on her. "We're going to live Rodeo Drive!"
"I knew you wanted to come!" Alexa squealed, her words overlapping Holly's. "And I'm so glad Tyler is cool with it." The girls flung their arms around each other and bounced up and down, doing a slightly more mature rendition of the "oh-my-God-no-way!" dance they'd choreographed in the third grade.
"Do you think he really is, though?" Holly asked, pulling back and feeling a twinge of regret. "Before you came in, I mean, before we started -- um -- anyway," Holly tried to shake off her blush as Alexa watched her, clearly amused. "Tyler and I were talking about future plans, and I kind of told him I didn't want to make any, and now I'm leaving before we can ..."
Alexa held up one hand. "Stop right there, Hoi. I have three words for you: Movie. Star. Wedding." She raised one eyebrow. "You should be focusing on that future now. Tyler can wait. And he will. Trust me. Boys are like punching bags -- they bounce back."
Holly couldn't help giggling. "Did you just invent that brilliant little simile on the spot?"
"Hey, and you wonder how I got into Columbia," Alexa teased, linking her arm through Holly's. "Now tell me," she began as they started toward the computer
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on her desk. "Do you have a dress that's appropriate for a party to end all parties in the Hollywood Hills?"
At Alexa's words, Holly felt a bolt of anticipation. No matter what happened this week -- no matter how much she missed Tyler, or how many phony LA types got on her nerves -- things would be, to say the least, eventful. "Urn, I don't think so," she replied as Alexa sat down at the desk and turned on the computer. Holly pictured the fancier end of her closet back home: the black-and-white dress she'd bought in South Beach that still needed dry-cleaning; the frumpy gray jumper her mother made her wear to synagogue on the High Holy Days; the shiny mauve number she'd mortified herself in at her aunt's wedding.... "Though there is my prom dress," she added with a shrug, remembering the halter sheath that was the color of pale grapes.
"You can't repeat an outfit at Margaux Eklundstrom's wedding," Alexa protested, clicking over to the Expedia site. "That violates every law of fashion. And possibly nature."
"Well..." Holly rested her elbows on the high back of the chair, checking out the computer screen. "Can't you just lend me one of your zillion dresses?" Alexa was practically a walking wardrobe.
"Ha," Alexa snorted, typing Tuesday's date onto the website. "My best stuff got stolen in Paris, and
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remember when I went through that ridiculous phase of buying vintage?" She shuddered. "Rodeo Drive is definitely in order."' She scrolled down the page, then clicked on a flight option. "Aha here we go. Two seats on True West Airlines, leaving from Newark at ten a.m ., with a stopover in Vegas, and arriving at LAX at two p.m. -- "
"Hang on," Holly said warily, leaning even closer to study the screen. "Las Vegas?"
"Just for an hour," Alexa said, nudging Holly away. "We'll check out the slot machines in the airport, sip skinny iced lattes from The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf..."
"All right," Holly said, laughing. As usual, Alexa's bubbly optimism -- her ability to make even airport layovers sound glam -- was catching, and Holly's heart thrummed. She focused back on Expedia, and soon the girls were off and running, selecting a return flight for Saturday morning (thus giving them a day to regroup before graduation) along with seats and payment
options -- all the minutiae that went into planning their last delicious adventure before settling into college, and the rest of their lives.
And that kind of planning, Holly could totally do.
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CHAPTER THREE
Go West, Young man
The Oakridge morning sky was a dark, thunderous gray, and fat drops of rain landed on Alexa's windshield with audible plops. Her shower-damp hair piled up atop her head, her almond-colored Prada platform wedges on her feet, and her approximately fifty-seven bags crammed into the backseat, Alexa flicked on her wipers and grinned. Each plop was like a small symphony. Alexa lived for rainy-day departures.
In recent months, Alexa had grown surprisingly fond of Oakridge. She loved that, as she was turning on to Holly's street, she knew exactly where the road would dip and curve, and that the wide plane tree to her left was where she and Holly had carved their initials the summer they were nine. But today she didn't feel the slightest bit bittersweet about leaving her
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hometown. Blinding desert sunshine, celebs sipping cocktails, pedicures by the pool with Margaux and Holly... all that, and more, waited out there, out west, and she'd be there soon enough.
Or as soon as she was able to steal Holly away from the chaos unfolding outside her house.
The Jacobsons' yellow Lab, Mia Hamm (only Holly would name her dog after a soccer player, Alexa reflected with an eye roll), was barking madly at Mrs. Jacobson, who was holding an umbrella over her head while attempting to cram a lawn chair into the backseat of the family Subaru. Holly's fourteen-year-old brother, Josh (Alexa estimated that he would turn out to be hot in approximately four to six years), was dribbling a basketball and listening to his iPod, ignoring whatever his mom was yelling at him. The trunk of the Subaru was open and a harried Mr. Jacobson with the help of Holly and the family appendage, Tyler Davis -- was trying to stuff two gigantic backpacks inside.
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