Decked with Holly

Okay , so maybe she wasn’t as naïve and gullible as I had originally thought.

The girl had somehow conned her way into throwing herself a surprise birthday party. Oh, and somehow I had agreed to picking up the tab for both the celebration and an exorbitant gift.

She wasn’t just a wind-tousled mess with a weird aversion to pie like I had thought last night in the dining room. Oh, no. She was a conniving, wannabe princess, set on destroying my life. Possibly with a weird aversion to pie.

But even clutching at her stomach and gasping for breath, Holly managed to be all smiles when we slowed to a casual stroll on the deck. “That was fun! A little intense with the running, but I don’t know why you rock stars make such a big deal out of it. Those fan girls were just a little excited, that’s all.”

“Trust me, the fun wears off.” I headed straight for one of the outdoor breakfast buffets and started plating some scrambled eggs and bacon. Holly tentatively picked up a plate of her own and slid a few pieces of fruit on it. Apparently, she still hadn’t gotten her sea legs yet.

“I don’t believe it. Only someone who has never been a geek could get tired of being called awesome! Most people dream of becoming a celebrity for exactly that reason!”

Right on cue, a group of giggling tween girls glanced at me, then their cell phones, before gasping loudly. The news that I was on board must have already spread. Well, the sooner people got used to seeing me eating and relaxing like a normal person, the sooner they would stop screaming at me. I just had to wait for the thrill of a celebrity sighting to fade. By that time, I’d probably be back in LA.

“Oh, my God! It’s totally Dominic Wyatt! You’re right!” one of the girls squealed to the others. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

That’s when the other girls screeched that she couldn’t just walk up and talk to a rock star. What would she say? What did she think I would say back? And ohmigod this is the coolest thing ever to happen in the history of cruises!

None of the girls seemed to notice that the guy in question, me, was standing right there, listening to everything they said while growing increasingly uncomfortable.

Not that Holly noticed any of it.

She dropped a piece of pineapple on my plate and whispered, “Those girls are obviously thrilled to see you. Isn’t that cool?”

So she wasn’t completely oblivious . . . she just had no idea what life was really like in the spotlight. I was tempted to try and shield her, but even after our fake breakup she would have to deal with it. She ought to be as prepared as possible.

Plus, I wanted to see how long this cheery, upbeat version of Holly would last. I had a feeling that pretty soon she would morph back into the snarky girl who was miffed about being mistaken for a zombie.

“I’ve got twenty bucks that says in under an hour you’ll change your mind about life as a celebrity.”

She nodded. “You’re on.”

The bravest girl in the tween group sauntered over and started shaking my hand formally, as if we had just finalized the details of a new contract. She didn’t say a word.

“What’s your name?” I asked nicely, wondering if maybe I had bet Holly a little prematurely. I was expecting the fan to be bratty, not speechless.

“L-Laura,” she stuttered.

“Laura,” I repeated and she blushed crimson.

“Laura Brimsyk.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Laura. I’m Dominic.”

She let out a high, keening giggle then instantly looked appalled that such a noise had come from her. I had expected it. Normal people have a tendency to do strange things when they meet a celebrity, even people who are positive that they won’t be fazed. I always have to pretend like it’s completely natural for girls to start tittering hysterically until they are unable to form complete sentences . . . because that’s part of the job. I have to maintain the cool rock star image. No matter how much the squealing creeps me out, I’m supposed to absorb it with a complacent smile.

“This is my girlfriend, Holly.”

“Hi, Laura. It’s nice to meet you.” Holly extended her arm for a handshake of her own, but it didn’t look like Laura was interested in taking her up on the offer. Laura looked horrified.

I leaned back against the counter and started mentally counting.

One.

“But you don’t . . .”

Two.

“But I thought . . .”

Three.

Laura collected herself enough to give Holly a slow once-over, before she sent me a dazzling smile. “You can do way better, Dominic.”

“Hey!” Holly didn’t find my young fan’s attention cute anymore. “I’m standing right here!”

“So?” Laura dismissed her with a flap of her hand. “It’s pretty obvious that you’re not exactly a ten. You’re more like a three trying to pass herself off as a four.”

Holly flushed in indignation and I relaxed, waiting for the fireworks.

There was something about seeing Holly’s hands fly to her hips that was distinctly appealing. Laura had definitely underestimated her.

“I don’t use numbers to rank people. I’ll leave pettiness like that to you and your little friends.” Holly hastily propelled one of my arms around her waist, so that her body was pressed against mine. It felt damn good, actually. “My boyfriend and I were enjoying ourselves before you came along.”

Laura’s face crumpled when I merely nodded and ran my hand through the ends of Holly’s long, silky hair. I don’t know what Laura was expecting, since insulting a rock star’s girlfriend is never a smart way to promote yourself. Still, she stiffened her spine and struck a pose.

“You really can do better, Dominic. My friends and I will be right over there if you decide to start trading up.”

Then she sauntered away with Holly’s mouth dangling open in outraged disbelief.

“Can you believe that?” she demanded. “I mean, she just waltzed over here and told you to dump me. After I was so nice to her too!”

“Yeah, it was almost like she wanted me for herself.”

Holly stabbed her fork into a slice of pineapple. “Okay, well . . . she sucks.”

“She sucks or being a celebrity does?”

Holly considered that as she ate. “No. Just her.”

“I have a feeling you’ll change your mind when all of their unflattering photos of you hit the Internet. Especially when they start comparing you to previous girlfriends.”

“Who was your last girlfriend?” Holly asked curiously.

“I went on a few dates with Taylor Swift. Nothing serious.” I shrugged. “We’re still good friends.”

Holly choked on her omelet. “Taylor Swift! As in the Grammy winner. The CoverGirl. The SNL host. Seriously? She was your last girlfriend?”

I merely smiled. “That’s what the press thinks.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Was that another fauxmance? I have trouble seeing the two of you together for real.”

“Because she’s so nice and I’m not.”

“Well . . . yeah.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. So was it?”

If she thought I was arrogant already I might as well play the part. “It was real but not serious. No girls have ever faked anything with me.”

She snorted in disbelief. “So you only pretend to be in relationships with some girls. Interesting.”

“And you only illegally break and enter into some rooms. Interesting.”

This time she reddened and took another bite of fruit. “Shut up.”

“So you plan on admitting that you lost the bet?”

Her eyes widened and she grabbed my sleeve. “My cousins are coming. Shut up and hide!”

All of which she said while yanking on my arm as she tried dragging me across the deck, apologizing to strangers the whole time.

“Excuse me! Sorry! Coming through!” She neatly dodged a little kid only to pull up short so as not to crash into a waiter.

“Why are we running?” I demanded, putting on the brakes. She tried tugging on me harder, but I don’t move unless I want to go somewhere. And I wanted to resume eating my breakfast. “I thought you wanted to make them jealous.”

“Of course I do! It’s just . . . who am I kidding? I can’t pull this off. We’ll have to tell everyone the truth. I’m so sorry, I just can’t—”

Holly’s cousins might scare the crap out of her, but she couldn’t have a panic attack and bail on our arrangement. Not after our People interview. Not ever.

So while I felt confident that I could deal with her relatives once she calmed down, her timing couldn’t have been worse to lose her head. We were attracting a crowd that wasn’t made up of squealing teenagers.

The paparazzi.

Shit.

How had they had found us so quickly? We hadn’t docked at a single port of call and nobody had even known about my travel plans. Nobody . . . except Mr. Ridgley and Cynthia. Which explained a lot of things, like that picture of the three of us having dinner. Except there hadn’t been paparazzi outside the door this morning, only screaming girls. Maybe Mr. Ridgley had told them to lay low for a while?

I didn’t have time to puzzle it out. Whether or not Holly knew it, we were surrounded and it was way too late for her to back out. The paparazzi wanted their “happy couple” shot, and it was my job to see that they got it. Any photos of Holly freaking out had the potential to bury the sound track project—and then Tim and Chris would attack me with canned soup. I had to shut her up.

So I did what any normal guy would do in my situation.

I kissed her.