Hollywood Holden: Los Angeles Bad Boys Read Online Free PDF Page B

movie-star-like ... but Bex, I can't wait. Not after that kiss."
    Her eyes are filled with desire, her lips swollen, her back arched as she looks up at me and nods.
    "I can't believe we made out in the high school parking lot," she says. "I mean, at least it's Friday night—but still, I work here now, you know."
    "I heard." I take her hand. "Uh, I don't actually have a car. Can you drive?"
    She leads me to the small beat-up Volvo she drove in high school, and unlocks the door. Sitting in the passenger seat, I look over at her and shake my head.
    "Memory lane, right?" she says, putting the car in reverse. I'm guessing she's also remembering the times she would answer her phone late on a Friday night, and come pick me up from whatever party I had gotten sloppy drunk at. Or maybe she's remembering the party we got sloppy drunk at together and slept in this car.
    The night of our second-worst fight.
    "Have you ever drank from a beer bong since that night?" I ask her.
    "Nope." She shakes her head. "And I never will."
    "I remember being shocked that you went all-in that night."
    "I was in a bad mood if I remember correctly." She raises her eyebrows, keeps her eyes on the road.
    I don't say any more about that night. I remember why she was mad. Because I asked Kiera to prom instead of her.
    But that was only after I heard her backstage, before our final performance of Oklahoma! , telling a girl that no , she did not want to go to prom with Holden. That Holden was a player, and would only try to get in her pants.
    "I don't want to live in the past, not tonight," I tell her, running a hand through my hair.
    "Good," she says, rounding the corner and pulling up to my house. "Because I don't want to either."
    I unlock the front door, and pull her upstairs. Even though I've offered to buy my mom a new place, she's still living in the townhouse where I grew up. I push open my bedroom door, and smile. I like that nothing has changed.
    The room is dark; I turn on a lamp, letting a soft glow cover the room.
    "I haven't been in your room for ages," Bexley says. "Oh my gosh, look." She points to a bulletin board filled with pictures from high school. Programs from every play Bex and I were in together are taped to the wall. "I'm back at my parents’ house for this semester while I student teach, but they re-did the room the moment I left for college. My childhood is in a plastic bin in the garage."
    "I thought we weren't talking about the past," I tell her, taking her hand and pulling her to face me.
    "You're larger than life now, Holden—a huge movie star," she says, taking pins out of her hair and letting the brown locks fall past her shoulders. "But when I'm standing here in this room, all I see is the boy I knew. The boy I knew could do anything."
    "Bex," I whisper, "You're so beautiful."
    "Shush. You're just saying that to get me naked."
    It's strange to see Bexley like this, so willing to give in to the sexual frustration that’s boiled between us for so long.
    "Did you come to the school tonight planning on having your way with me?" I ask her, my fingers undoing the buttons of her blouse until a slice of her skin is revealed.
    "Yes, Holden, I did."
    She lets her top fall to the floor, then takes my hands and leads them to the buttons on her pants. Her skin is warm, and it feels like I'm undressing something precious and delicate—and much too tender for an asshole like me. Like I'm being given a gift I don't deserve. Bexley walked away from me … but I gave her plenty of reasons to go.
    Her pants drop, and she stands before me in tiny pure-white panties and a lacy bra. She looks like a goddess, like a nymph from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She is a dream, a woman more magical than I've ever had standing before me.
    "You're perfect, Bex," I tell her, pulling off my shirt and stepping toward her. I kiss her again, harder this time, with more force. Because I’m no longer merely infatuated with the idea of Bexley; I’m consumed with