Chapter 33
Holly
The girls had picked the wrong time to mess with me.
Normally, they would have perfected their blackmail technique over a longer period of time, but with the New Year’s party approaching, they needed to act fast.
Except I no longer cared if those photos were released.
Okay, I cared. I mean, nobody in their right mind wants photos passed around school of themselves tackling Santa in a ridiculously short skirt. But the kids most likely to mock me for it would probably be too busy sucking up to the fake girlfriend of a rock star. Which just so happened to be me.
I refused to waste any more time or energy obsessing over my cousins’ next evil plan.
So I turned on them the instant we reached the bathroom. “You know what? I’m going to make this really simple. You’ve got two options: Either you email those photos in a pathetic attempt to embarrass me or you get over yourselves .”
The twins glared at me, and I knew I was wasting my breath. The pair of them would probably continue treating others like crap long after they graduated from college. I doubted that they would ever change. That’s what bitchy people do before they spawn and raise smaller bitchy people.
“The choice is yours,” I continued. “But family or not: I will go for the jugular if you ever mess with me again.”
Then I turned on my heels and marched out of the bathroom before they could test my newfound resolve. I didn’t want to give them an opening to put me down, especially since I had a boy waiting who was trying to make me feel special. One who just might like me, the girl he had originally mistaken for a pregnant zombie.
I thought Nick was enjoying my birthday dinner too . . . even though Aunt Jessica detailed her “hot” diet (only consume things at a tongue-scalding temperature) and suggested that he share it with his actress friends. He just nodded noncommittally and changed the subject with only the hint of an amused smirk on his face.
Meanwhile, I ignored the majority of my family, choosing instead to concentrate on the people who made me feel good.
A tactic I probably should have started years ago, but better late than never.
So my aunt’s present of a one-year subscription to a local gym didn’t faze me. I thanked her politely and then moved on to my grandpa’s gifts. That’s where I hit pay dirt. He had picked up on all the not-so-subtle hints I’d been dropping about needing new art supplies. A new set of the high-quality graphite pencils, acrylic paints, a brand-new sketchbook, and an X-Acto knife made me want to put it all to good use right away. It was a struggle for me not to bail on the rest of my own dinner.
As excited as I was about the art supplies, I couldn’t stop wondering whether Nick had a present for me too. Which was completely selfish since Nick had already gone way above the boyfriend call of duty. The guy didn’t owe me a thing. If anything, I felt like I ought to be writing a glowing commendation to People about him or something.
And for the first time, I didn’t want to go right back to the suite after dinner. I wanted to linger in the make-believe instead. Just for a little while longer. Which might explain why I felt my heart picking up speed as Nick and I separated from the group at the end of the meal. His hand pressing firmly against the small of my back, Nick steered me into one of the lounges. There was a woman in a sparkly dress belting out classic jazz standards, and I felt like we had somehow slipped back in time.
Nick set my bag of presents down on a chair and tugged me onto the dance floor even though I hissed, “I don’t know how to dance to this!”
The only people who did know what they were doing were couples my grandpa’s age who had probably been waltzing together for the past fifty years.
“You know, I actually guessed that,” Nick whispered back. “Luckily, this is one of those dances where all you have to do is look pretty and follow my lead.”
“But I’m not good at taking directions!”
“No kidding.”
I intentionally stepped on his foot and smiled sweetly up at him. “Sorry. Tripped.”
Nick spun me around in a quick move that had me plastered against him, clinging desperately so that I wouldn’t land on my face. Which was probably the result he had been looking for all along, since he didn’t release me. Although I couldn’t help thinking that my new high heels should have come with a warning label attached.
Still, I managed to stay upright and we bungled our way through the rest of the song. We were probably the worst couple on the floor but it didn’t matter. Nick kept spinning me until I was clutching his shirt and laughing so hard I didn’t care if we looked like complete idiots. Not that any of the surrounding couples paid us much attention, beyond glancing over and mumbling about young love.
Not that we were in love. We were in . . . like?
That was probably allowed in a fake romance. Not that anyone had ever written down a set of rules for pretending to date a celebrity. Still, it made sense to me. You can like the other person, but get any closer than that and your heart will be pulverized with the carnage displayed on the glossy covers of magazines across America.
But when Nick pulled me into a secluded corner of the room and reached into his suit jacket everything else faded.
“I have something for you.” Nick handed me a small black box. “Happy birthday, Holly.”
All I could think was: That’s the kind of box rings come in. Rings with diamonds. Rings that have strings attached with words like love, commitment, forever, and promise. All words that I wasn’t prepared to say.
Whatever was in that box, I wasn’t ready for it.
Right?
An engagement was off the table, but if this was Nick’s attempt at turning our relationship into something real . . . that had my racing heart tripping all over itself.
I was already a complete mess.
“Come on, Holly,” he said awkwardly, probably because I was staring at his present as if it might explode. “It’s not pepper spray, I swear.”
I managed a weak smile and, repeating my mantra of the trip (I will not throw up. I will not throw up), I cracked open the velvet lid.
It wasn’t a ring.
Instead it was a necklace with a single dark gray pearl glowing inside.
“It’s . . . it’s, uh, beautiful,” I croaked. Which was one hell of an understatement. Jewelry wasn’t exactly my thing, mainly because it took time and energy to match it with an outfit. But I doubted this necklace would clash with anything, including my everyday jeans and T-shirts . . . and if Nick helped me with the clasp I might never take it off.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Uh . . . yeah. It’s really . . . well, thanks.” Damn, his gift had reduced me to incoherence. “I . . . uh—”
He shut me up by kissing me.
And it should have been perfect . . . but when the bright flash of the paparazzi cameras caught us mid-kiss, I knew it was a lie. He had set up the whole damn thing for the photographers.
Dominic Wyatt just wanted to sell the act.
And in that moment, I honestly hated him. It was one thing to pretend that we were in a relationship, but to make it seem this real . . . that was low.
I felt stupid for falling for his act in the first place. It’s not like he hadn’t been up front about caring more about his image than anything else. That was why we had started our fake relationship in the first place. I should have known better. Which only made me more determined to disembark in LA with my pride intact.
“Well,” I said coolly. “Thanks for the necklace. It really helps sell the act, don’t you think? I’ll be sure to give it back to you after our amicable media split.”
Nick looked simultaneously confused, wary, and hurt. Oh, yeah, he could definitely make a career in acting. “What are you talking about?”
“I get it, Nick,” I assured him. “We’ve both been using each other and . . . you more than lived up to your end of the deal.” I pasted on a fake smile and told myself to hold it together. “Now it’s time for me to move on.”
He leaned against the wall with an inscrutable look on his face, and I realized that I didn’t know the first thing about him. Because the guy I thought was Dominic Wyatt would never sell out such a personal moment to the press.
And he wouldn’t look at me with that mixture of disdain and contempt.
“So that’s it. You’ve had enough.”
“Well.” I pretended to consider the situation even though I didn’t have any options. The sooner I ended this farce the better. “I think it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep this short.” I stepped back and wobbled on my heels.
Keep it together just a little longer.
“It’s been great, Nick. And if it weren’t for you, I’d still be a high school nobody instead of the girl who briefly dated a rock star.” I laughed because the alternative would make me look like a heartbroken idiot. Not going to happen. “Let me know if any of your famous friends ever need a fake relationship. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
Then I gave a small finger wave to the paparazzi . . . and left.
I was officially an adult and yet I had never felt so young and clueless.
Ironic, I guess, but I still didn’t feel like laughing.