Decked with Holly (23 page)

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Authors: Marni Bates

BOOK: Decked with Holly
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Chapter 37
Holly
 
“U
h, Jen? You're scaring me.”
Even as I said it, I didn't expect my words to have any effect. Jen doesn't believe in vegging out until
after
the ball drops on New Year's. Then she makes lists of resolutions and feels guilty for eating a boatload of holiday chocolate.
Although this time she had something different in mind.
Jen knotted the scarf even more tightly around my eyes. “I've already cleared it with your grandpa, Holly. So you're going to wear the blindfold and be
amazed!
”
“You know blindfolds and heels don't really go together.”
“If you think I'll let you stuff that spectacular black dress into the back of your closet, then Dominic Wyatt's pepper spray must have caused serious brain damage.”
Ouch. I really wanted her to stop bringing that up. I already felt like I couldn't escape ReadySet, even without my best friend's reminders. The band logo was everywhere from backpacks to lunchboxes to pencils. Worst of all were the enormous billboards plastered all over LA.
The guy hadn't so much as texted me and I still felt like I couldn't avoid him.
Not that I had expected him to contact me.
That's not what you do with a fake girlfriend. And since the Christmas photos had quickly jumped from my high school to
People
magazine
,
his timing for distance couldn't have been better . . . for him.
Oddly enough, the photos hadn't stopped me from getting messages from the popular kids who would suddenly
love
it if I came to their New Year's bash. Because telling a bunch of strangers intimate details about my fake love life would be so much fun.
Yeah, I decided to pass.
Although Jen wasn't going to let me have a quiet night in.
“Okay, now there's another step,” Jen warned as she escorted me out of the house.
“Can I please take off the blindfold?”
“Nope. Oh, good. Right on time.”
I didn't have time to figure out what she meant since the world tilted as my best friend
shoved
me into an abyss. I was falling into nothingness, and even throwing my hands out to break my fall didn't make it any more comfortable to land with a jarring thump. I had no idea what she was thinking, but I could tell I wasn't going to like it.
“Jen? What the—”
“Have fun, Holly!” she yelled as she shoved my legs in with the rest of me. “Call me later!”
The car door slammed shut and a millisecond later it moved, pitching me off the smooth leather . . . something or other . . . and onto a thickly carpeted floor. Definitely time for me to invest in a new best friend—preferably one who doesn't push me into her half-baked schemes. Grabbing at my blindfold, I braced myself for the worst.
“Good to see you, Holly.”
The worst I could imagine? Yeah, not nearly as uncomfortable as the situation I was actually in. For starters, I was sprawled out on the floor of a sleek limo that was probably rented out most often for the pleasure of entertaining foreign dignitaries or ridiculously expensive call girls. And that particular voice happened to belong to the one person I most wanted to
avoid
.
I flopped back onto the seat, mentally cursing my best friend, my high-heel shoes, and the rock star who had just interrupted yet another holiday.
Definitely time to play it cool.
“Well, it's, uh . . . good to see without the blindfold.”
He nodded and for a moment it was unbearably quiet in the car. “So how have you been?”
“Before or after
I was abducted!
”
He grinned and my idiotic heart lurched at the familiar expression. “I don't think it counts as abduction if I intend to take you home. Eventually.”
“Um.” I pointed at the blindfold. “It still counts as kidnapping, genius!”
“Considering that you illegally broke into my suite, you don't exactly have the moral high ground here.”
“That was an accident!”
He shrugged dismissively, and I went on the offensive. “Where are you taking me?”
“We'll get to that in a minute. Do you know how pearls are formed, Holly?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “
Seriously?
You
kidnapped
me because you wanted to give me a science lesson, Nick?”
“You haven't answered the question.”
I glared at him and then rolled my eyes. “Fine. How are pearls formed, Nick?”
“It starts when an irritating foreign object slips between a mollusk and its shell.”
“Fascinating,” I said drily.
“It is, actually. So the irritating object—no surprise here—keeps rubbing the mollusk the wrong way. Annoys the hell out of the poor devil.”
“I'm guessing that the irritant in this charming analogy is supposed to be me.”
He smirked. “Naturally.”
Great.
I didn't want to hear any more. The prospect of spending any longer sitting next to him and feeling this crappy had me considering the ramifications of jumping from a moving vehicle. “Could you let me out now?”
“Nope. As I was saying, the irritant keeps frustrating the oyster. It could be another kind of mollusk, but let's use an oyster for now.”
“Yeah, because it's so important that we get all the details of this analogy right.”
“So the oyster gets annoyed—”
“I take it you're the oyster.”
“Stop interrupting, Holly. See, the oyster's natural defense mechanism is to cover the irritant with the same substance as its shell. Eventually, that forms the pearl.”
I stared at him. “So you're saying what exactly, Nick? You want to smother me with a blanket?”
“At the moment, a muzzle holds some appeal. But no.” He raked a hand through his hair in frustration, making it stand up in familiar tufts. “Holly, you irritate the hell out of me.”
My stomach dropped even farther. So that's why he had kidnapped me. Dominic Wyatt wanted to explain his complete lack of interest in me, which Jen probably thought I needed to hear in order to get closure. Great way to kick off a new year.
“But you're also smart and funny and I miss spending time with you.”
“Uh . . .”
He continued as if I hadn't said anything, which technically I hadn't.
“And, yes, you're a completely tone-deaf morning person, but—”
I kissed him.
And for the first time it wasn't a calculated decision intended to please the American public. It wasn't about protecting his reputation or trying to make the best of a bad situation. He had missed
me
. And if Nick was willing to risk a kidnapping charge he had to be interested in more than friendship.
There was certainly nothing platonic about the heat between us when he kissed me back. I had to make a concerted effort not to melt into the leather seats when I felt his lips move into that familiar grin.
I might actually have to thank Jen for being an accessory to my kidnapping.
When we finally came up for air, Nick handed me the black box. “I believe this is yours, Holly. And just to be clear: I want a real relationship this time.”
I grinned back at him. “Yeah, I picked up on that.”
“Good, because you have to be the densest girl in the hist—”
“
I
am a pearl,” I corrected loftily. “A shimmering treasure. A rare—”
“I take it back. I didn't mean it.”
My laughter died pretty quickly when he took the necklace from my hands only to help me with the clasp in the back. There was something really intimate about having his fingers brushing the nape of my neck. I shivered.
“So where are we going?”
He shrugged. “I didn't actually have a location planned out. Jen didn't give me instructions on that part. Is there anywhere you want to go?”
“You know what? I'm already there.”
I slid my arm around his neck so that we were pressed even closer. “Now where were we?”
He didn't kiss me. Instead, he moved back so that he could look directly into my eyes. “I've just got one more question, Holly.”
I nodded, suddenly nervous. “Shoot.”
A decidedly wicked grin replaced his serious façade. “Any chance you still have that little elf costume? Because I was think—”
I didn't give him a chance to finish his sentence . . . choosing to drag his mouth back to mine, effectively cutting him off instead.
Although I have the sneaking suspicion that he enjoyed being too preoccupied to speak every bit as much as I did.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
1.
What are some of the perks Dominic enjoys because of his celebrity status? What are the disadvantages? Do you think the advantages outweigh the disadvantages?
2.
Holly's cousins are good examples of bullies. Do you think Holly's method of avoiding and ignoring them is effective? What about when she confronts them? What other tactics do you think are good for dealing with bullies?
3.
Holly struggles with her body image. How does she come to better accept herself by the end of the book?
4.
Holly and Dominic complement each other in different ways. What good qualities do they bring out in each other?
5.
Holly and Jen are very close. How does their relationship help Holly get through this nightmare vacation? How does it hinder her?
Did you miss Marni's first novel,
AWKWARD
?
I'm Mackenzie Wellesley, and I've spent my life avoiding the spotlight. But that was four million hits ago....
 
Blame it on that grade school ballet recital, when I tripped and pulled the curtain down, only to reveal my father kissing my dance instructor. At Smith High, I'm doing a pretty good job of being the awkward junior people only notice when they need help with homework. Until I send a burly football player flying with my massive backpack, and make a disastrous—not to mention unwelcome—attempt at CPR. Just when I think it's time for home schooling, the whole fiasco explodes on YouTube. And then the strangest thing happens. Suddenly, I'm the latest sensation, sucked into a whirlwind of rock stars, paparazzi, and free designer clothes. I even catch the eye of the most popular guy at school. That's when life gets
really
interesting....
Chapter 1
Y
ou probably think you know me . . . and I understand why. You've probably read about me on AOL or heard Conan O'Brien or Jon Stewart reference me for the punch line of some joke. It's okay if you haven't. In fact, I prefer it that way. But let's be honest: The whole world knows about Mackenzie Wellesley and her social awkwardness. Except maybe some people in Burma and Sudan . . . but you get my point.
The thing is, despite all that's been said about me (and there has been a lot), only a handful of people actually understand how I was able to go from a boring high school student to a pop culture reference in the space of a week. That's why I am even bothering to explain. Don't worry: This won't be one of those stupid celebrity autobiographies where I describe my sordid past and complain a lot—my past isn't all that sordid, and that's just lame.
Let me start by saying that I've never hungered for the spotlight. My younger brother, Dylan, was always the one who craved The Big Moment. You know: catch the football in overtime with a few seconds left on the clock to score the winning touchdown. The very idea of a stadium full of people watching me makes me want to hurl. That's probably due to my elementary school ballet recital. I remember every detail perfectly. My mom was in the audience cradling a baby Dylan in her lap as I leaped across the stage. I was craning my neck, searching for my dad in the crowd, and worried that he wouldn't show up. That's when I glanced into the wings and spotted him right behind the curtains . . . making out with my dance instructor.
We have the recital on tape. You can tell when my world imploded by the way my brown eyes expanded and my shoulder-length brown hair whipped my face as I looked from my dad to my happily waving mom. But it gets worse—so much worse. I was frozen while all the other little girls twirled and flounced around me. I stumbled out of formation and—blinded by the stage lights—I tripped on the sound system cable and went flying right into the curtains, which promptly fell down and revealed my dad sucking face. That's when I decided it was better to be invisible than to fall on your face in a ridiculous pink tutu.
Freud would probably say that's why I suffer from a fear of crowds and attention. And in this specific case I think Freud might have a point. I've been paranoid ever since that damn recital—and the divorce. I avoid the spotlight. I guess you could say that I strive for anonymity. But I'm fine with my geekdom—totally cool with the fact that I never get invited to parties. I fill a certain niche at my school, the local nerd, and it's a role that I've gone to a lot of effort to create for myself. And while, yes, a normal day for me means three AP classes, it really isn't so bad. Definitely stressful, but I like it—especially because it'll look great to financial aid committees who decide on college scholarships.
So, yeah, I'm happy with my life. I've got friends, a job, and an awesome GPA to propel me into a solid university . . . or at least I
did,
until I became famous.

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