Holly Hearts Hollywood (23 page)

“Honestly,” he said as he wiped the dripping pop off his neck, “I would’ve been surprised if you’d done anything else.”

“You were expecting me to
spit
on you?”

“No, not exactly. Although, it turns out spit takes are as funny in real life as they are in movies.”

“When you say Broadway…you meant musicals, right? Like on stage?
Guys and Dolls
, that sort of thing?”

“Doesn’t seem like my type of thing, does it?”

“Well, no. Not really,” I admitted.

“That’s the problem. Everyone expects me to be a certain way. They all tell me musicals aren’t my style, but what do they know? The stuff I do
now
isn’t my style.”

“Well, who have you told?”
And why are you telling me
? I wondered to myself.

“My parents and my agent. They advised me against it, of course.”

“Well, surely they wouldn’t be opposed to you taking a hiatus and doing a show for a couple months like that
Harry Potter
kid.”

Grayson looked down at the globs of mustard on his plate.

“That’s just it. I don’t want to do it temporarily. I want to quit all this stupid dancing-around-in-cowboy-boots stuff and do shows full-time. My agent said it’d be career suicide.”

That seemed a little overdramatic. It wouldn’t be career suicide…would it? And again, I had to ask myself,
why is he telling me this? He hasn’t even told Lacey, and he’s telling me.
I guess there is something about me that makes people want to tell their secrets, since people seem to be opening up to me a lot lately.

I didn’t say anything to Grayson. Now that I think about it, Grayson did most of the talking today. Mainly about his animals, his music, and his family. Apparently Shell Shocked wants Grayson to sing some ridiculous song called “Baby, Won’t You Be My Baby Doll?”

“You have some pop drying in your hair,” I said.

Grayson brushed the top of his hair. “Did I get it?”

“No, here, let me get it.” I dipped my napkin in my water glass and leaned across the table. Grayson leaned forward, and his forehead met my hand. I dabbed at the spot at his hairline until the congealing mess of pop was gone.

“There,” I said, but I didn’t lean back in my seat. Grayson’s warm golden-brown eyes met mine.

“Thanks,” he murmured, but he didn’t lean back either. It felt like we were waiting for something, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe that breath you take right before a roller coaster plunges over the first hill. And like a roller coaster, I felt like throwing up. My heart was in my
butt
, and my stomach was in my throat. I leaned back quickly, breaking our gaze. My stomach lurched. Grayson may not have minded me spitting on him, but I think he would’ve objected to me throwing up all over him.

I’m a naturally self-conscious person, but in those few seconds in Five Napkin Burger, of all freaking places, I’d never felt more exposed and embarrassed. I’m still sitting here in our corner booth, waiting for Grayson to come back from a phone call with his agent. The whole hair-cleaning incident didn’t seem to bother him a bit. He’s been acting like nothing happened. And who knows? Maybe nothing did happen. Maybe I’m overreacting like always.

Some girls just started screaming on the other side of the restaurant. Maybe they saw a cockroach or something. But geez, do they have to sound hysterical? Oh no. I think they’ve spotted Grayson.

Later, 6:30pm—Grayson’s Car

Thank God for burly bodyguards. Seriously, Ryan practically saved our lives. Well, Grayson’s life, since he was the one under attack. I know that sounds extreme for some silly fan girls, but you have no idea how crazy people can get. We had to call Grayson’s town car to pick us up. We had to jump in the
moving
vehicle, kind of like an action movie, only I’ve never seen Sylvester Stallone running from rabid fan girls.

When we finally collapsed into the car, we burst into laughter. Grayson was wiping tears from his eyes. “That was ridiculous,” he gasped. “I think they were trying to rip off my shirt.”

“I heard one of them squeal something about getting a look at your abs,” I told him.

Grayson looked incredulous. “Haven’t they seen my Ralph Lauren ad? I thought that’d tide them over for a while.”

I’d
definitely seen it. The ad came out last year, and all of the girls at my school went bonkers. The photo featured Grayson coming out of a lake in a forest. He was pushing his wet hair out of his face. The scandalous part of the ad was Grayson’s waistline. As far as anyone could see, he didn’t seem to have any swim trunks on. And the water was
very
low on his waist. Grayson has those sexy “v” muscles and everything. He had this “come hither” look on his face. More than half of the girls at Cedar Junction High School, much to the enjoyment of their boyfriends, put Grayson’s picture in their locker.

It turned into a big thing because Grayson is underage. They ended up pulling the ad from magazines, and the company apologized. No one seems to care if a woman is sexualized, but a boy shows his V-muscles and everyone freaks out. Lame.

Grayson looks
good
in that ad, and he looks as good in person. I’ve seen his abs. I saw them yesterday at the beach; and trust me, they look the same in real life. Holy crap, did I just write that? Something must be seriously wrong with me. Maybe I bumped my head on my side table while I was sleeping. I
must
have brain damage.

I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost my marbles. How could I not when I’m dealing with all of this stress from Lacey, from Grayson, from my family, and from my schoolwork, which I seem to
never
have time for. On top of that, I’m still kind of upset with Keller. His “apology” was weird. I’m trying to get over it, but I can’t. Keller can be super moody, and it makes me nervous that he’ll freak out about something silly again.
And then
Mr. Salazar threatened me like he was a politician on Capitol Hill and I was trying to get in his way. For all I know, eating lunch with Grayson could’ve signed my death warrant. Oh my God. I didn’t even think about what Mr. Salazar would think if
PHOTOS
of us together got out! I shouldn’t even be with him. But…I’m having a nice time, and I don’t want to leave.

Ugh. I can’t think about these things anymore. I’m going to have a heart attack or get kidney stones or something.

Later, 11:45pm—The Plaza Hotel

How could the last few hours of this evening have been so wonderful and so
horrible
at the same time? I’m not sure if I should be happy or go bury myself in a ditch. I’m leaning toward burying myself in a ditch. It sounds like a better alternative than having to wake up tomorrow morning and look Grayson in the eye.

I really do like Los Angeles, but I
love
New York. It has an amazing energy about it. The city seems like an endless maze of sights to explore. After our narrow escape from Five Napkin Burger, we went and got cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery and strolled around Times Square. What is it with boys buying me cupcakes lately? As I was licking the last of the delicious frosting off my finger, Grayson said, “So I bought tickets for us to see a show. Do you want to go?”

“Of course I want to go. I’ve never seen a musical before.”

Grayson’s eyes widened. “You haven’t? Not even one of the high school’s shows?”

The shows at my old school weren’t exactly incredible. They had reputations of being train wrecks. Last year, they did
Fiddler on the Roof
but didn’t have enough boys to fill the cast out properly, so most of the cast was actually girls pretending to be guys, which didn’t do anything for their harmonies.

“The high school shows weren’t that great.”

He shrugged. “I guess so. I never saw any myself, so I’ll take your word for it.” He smiled widely. “Are you ready? The show starts soon.”

The show was
amazing
! We went to
Wicked
, and it nearly made me cry. You know, it’s that musical about
The Wizard of
Oz before Dorothy dropped a house on the wicked witch. It was like seeing magic in front of your very eyes. I couldn’t believe the stuff they did on stage. The clockwork dragon was one of my favorite things, and it was only part of the stage design! And holy crap, I can see what Grayson meant by the music. It sounded
really
hard to sing. Grayson did seem a little sad when we first took our seats, though. There was one seat next to him that remained empty the whole show. It was obviously supposed to be for Lacey.

After the show, the car came to take us back to the Plaza. As we were about to get into the car, photographers suddenly descended on us like a swarm of bees. The lights started flashing so brightly I’m surprised I’m not blind. Just like with Serena, the photographers started to shout all kinds of mean things at Grayson.

“Hey, Grayson! Over here, Grayson!”

“Who’s that, Grayson? Are you cheating on Lacey, Grayson?”

As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough already, they started to talk to
me
! Ryan was pushing through the paparazzi to get us to the car, but there were about twenty of them and only one of him.

“Hey, what’s your name?” one shouted right in my ear.

“Grayson, are you breaking up with Lacey for
this
girl?”

“What size are you anyway, honey?”

“Did she eat your girlfriend, Grayson? She looks like she ate everything else!”

And to make it worse, I started to cry. I hadn’t cried since Mr. Salazar offered me the contract. I started to sob with the same sudden intensity I did when I watched the season two finale of
Doctor Who
. My tears only made the paparazzi start taking more photos and shouting more mean things.

Something wrapped around my waist, and I was about to freak out on whatever it was when I realized Grayson had put his arm around me. I actually felt a little better, strange as it sounds. It was just his arm.

“Hey!” Grayson shouted. “Leave her alone.” He sounded
furious.

Ryan got to us at that point and ushered us into the car. The car sped away, but I couldn’t stop crying. I was having a full-on meltdown.

“Holly, those guys are idiots,” Grayson said, his arm still around me.

I couldn’t even speak. I couldn’t even breathe. I was so freaked out. This is why I don’t want the spotlight; the press will tear me apart. It occurred to me that those photos of us will probably be in
US Weekly
and on
TMZ
where Mr. Salazar is almost certain to see them. I started to cry harder.

Grayson’s hand was suddenly on my cheek, wiping away my tears and snot. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I got you into that mess.”

“It’s not your fault,” I hiccupped. “It’s
mine
. I’m fat; they were pointing out the obvious.”

Grayson’s grip around me tightened. “That’s not true,” he said firmly.

“Yes it is,” I said. “I’m overweight, how can anyone deny that?”

“But it doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful or not a great person,” Grayson insisted.

I was still crying, but he pulled me closer to him and let me cry all over his t-shirt. He even traced circles on my back, which felt nice. We made it back to the hotel a few minutes later. Grayson gave me a tissue so I could clean myself up as best I could.

“Feeling better?” he asked. His eyes were wide and warm with concern.

“I’m fine. They just took me by surprise.”

He nodded. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

The best part of being at the Plaza is that no one rushes up to ask for Grayson’s autograph, so we were able to get up to my room quickly. We stopped outside the door and looked at each other awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Grayson finally said.

“Surprisingly, so did I.” The moment the words were out of my mouth, I regretted it. I didn’t mean it to sound so insulting.

Grayson’s eyes flickered. “Surprisingly?” he questioned.

I blushed. “Sorry. After everything that happened, I wasn’t sure if things would ever feel normal.”

“I understand. Do you think we’re friends yet?” he asked.

“Yes, we’re friends,” I responded. After a pause, I asked, “Grayson, why do you like Lacey? I mean, she’s beautiful and everything, but what else is there?”

Grayson looked startled by my question, like a deer caught in headlights. And I should know what that looks like. Grandpa Hart considered deer in the middle of the road target practice.

I continued quickly. “I mean, that day you first met her at Shell Shocked, you seemed entirely uninterested.”

Grayson nodded. A lock of his hair fell in front of his face. “No, you’re right. I wasn’t interested. I thought she was just another pretty face.” Just a pretty face? Lacey is the most gorgeous girl alive. “Then,” he continued, “We spent a little bit of time together, but I was kind of just having fun, to be honest. But when I heard her sing for the first time, I…fell for her. I knew a voice like that had to belong to someone special.”

I suddenly felt sick. I mean really,
really
sick. I couldn’t have heard him right. It doesn’t make any sense. How could anyone fall in love with
my
voice? Not to mention the fact that I don’t even understand how he was barely interested in Lacey in the first place. She’s gorgeous. If I were attracted to girls, I’d totally tap that.

His confession confirms what I’ve known deep down for days, maybe weeks now, but only am just now able to admit: I like Grayson as
more
than a friend. Oh my God, I
LIKE
GRAYSON.
What’s wrong with me? I didn’t even want to be
friends
with him—and now I have a romantic interest in him? If this is the way human emotions always are, I want to get off this train. What on Earth am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can tell him I’m the one singing. I signed a contract. I legally
can’t
tell the truth. I think I’m going to drink all of the diet Coke in the minibar and cry myself to sleep.