Hollywood Hills Read Online Free PDF

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 thisweek 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 deep 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.
    Alexa, her pouty princess mouth turned down at the corners, reached up to toy with the high neck of her sleeveless lacy white top. “Hol, 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 itwas 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