“Oh, thanks for calling right back, baby,” Tyler said, his tone gentler than it had been a few minutes before. “Are you alone now?”
“Totally,” Holly lied, shifting in her seat as Alexa helpfully turned down the volume on a vintage Red Hot Chili Peppers song on the radio. “Are you?”
“Yeah. I’m in my room,” Tyler said, and Holly instantly pictured him on the edge of his bed—the bed she’d lain on so many times—surrounded by his posters of sports heroes, safe and secure in the home he’d always known, while she literally teetered on the brink of a cliff. But Holly realized that she didn’t feel unsafe where she was. And she wasn’t that homesick for Oakridge—or Tyler.
“So,” Tyler continued, and the seriousness in his voice made Holly even more nervous. “I, um, felt like we ended things kind of abruptly earlier, and I wanted to explain a little more about why I—I kind of exploded like that.”
Explain? Holly thought, gazing down at the stomachdropping view. Not apologize? “That would be good,” she replied cautiously, still unsure where this conversation might take them; it felt as unpredictable and dangerous as the road Alexa was driving along. “I had no clue that you’ve been sort of…pissed at me…” she trailed off.
“I’m not,” Tyler replied quickly. “It’s just—I guess there’s something I keep thinking about, and I guess it kind of came out in a weird way before. You know?”
“Not really,” Holly replied truthfully, shooting Alexa a he’s-being-confusing look. Alexa, keeping her gaze on the sharply zigzagging road, made a sympathetic face. “Tell me about it,” Holly added. Her boyfriend could be so reserved, so reticent, that often she had to draw his thoughts out of him slowly, like cotton candy from a spinning machine.
Tyler let out a long sigh. “The thing is, Holly…I’ve had a lot of time to myself this week, with you being gone and all.” There was a note of accusation in his tone, and Holly set her jaw, feeling a knot of irritation form in her chest. “And I haven’t wanted to bring this up with you,” Tyler went on, “because I know you’ve been having so much fun…”
“Tyler. Come on. I’m not having fun right now.” Holly exhaled noisily, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alexa’s lips twitch with a smile.
Tyler cleared his throat. “I keep thinking about that conversation we had the night of Alexa’s mom’s party—you know, before you left for LA? When you said you didn’t want to make too many plans because you were feeling suffocated?” His words spilled out in a rush now.
Surprised, Holly held on to the bottom of her seat as the car bounced along a pebbly road; though she hadn’t forgotten about that fight with Tyler, she hadn’t had too much time to dwell on it, what with all the activity in LA. Closing her eyes, Holly called up Monday night in New York, which seemed to belong to another lifetime.
“I never said suffocated,” she protested after a minute, opening her eyes. But as she spoke that word now, Holly realized that it perfectly described what she’d been feeling back home—as if all her obligations were pressing down on her like great weights, squeezing the breath out of her. Being away from that pressure this week, she’d almost forgotten the sensation.
“Maybe not,” Tyler responded quietly and cleared his throat again. “But when I started talking about college and our future, you got this look on your face like you wanted to…escape.”
And I did, Holly thought, looking out the windshield; she and Alexa were now approaching the Pacific Coast Highway, and the great orange orb of the sun was beginning its descent into the flat, shiny Pacific. In a rush, Holly realized how wonderfully free she’d been feeling in California. For once, her parents weren’t breathing down her neck; there was no Coach Graham expecting her to show up at a track meet; and, if Holly was totally honest with herself, there was no homebody, play-it-safe boyfriend to dissuade her from going out to explore and dance and laugh.
At that last thought, Holly caught her breath, and felt a wave of something like fear wash over her. What was she thinking? What was happening?
“And,” Tyler was saying into the phone, no hesitation in his voice now; Holly got the distinct feeling that he’d read her thoughts. “Ever since you’ve been in California, it seems like you’re finally getting to do all those…spontaneous things you’ve always wanted. Without me. You know, like hitting up big-time celebrity parties, and chilling with that guy Seamus—”
Oh, no. Tyler Davis had not just gone there.
“Hold on,” Holly snapped, her face flushing so hot she felt she might explode. “Tyler, please tell me you don’t think—Seamus is a friend—how could you—” Her indignation stole the words out of her mouth. She noticed Alexa glance briefly at her, braking behind a jet-black Porsche.
“Look, I’m not saying anything,” Tyler responded swiftly. “But…well, I know sometimes when we’re apart, you can get a little…crazy.”
Another bolt of fury shot through Holly, and she gripped the cell so tight she knew her knuckles were turning white. She understood exactly what Tyler was referring to, and it made her throat close with hurt. Last month, not long after they had gone all the way for the first time, Holly had broken down and told Tyler about kissing Alexa’s hot cousin, Pierre, in Paris. Tyler had been understandably upset, but his brooding had lasted for only a few days, and then he’d assured Holly that he forgave her. Still, Holly couldn’t help but wonder if Tyler might begin to grow suspicious of her nonetheless. And here was living proof.
“Tyler Maxwell Davis.” Holly spoke slowly and deliberately, even though her arms and legs were shaking. “If you knew me at all, you’d know I’d never do anything like that again. Just because you’re—you’re jealous or something of the fun I’m having on this trip, does not give you the right to…” To her growing frustration, Holly felt warm tears well up in her eyes. Alexa reached one hand out to rub her shoulder, but nothing could comfort Holly now. “Suspect me of…” she whispered, her voice breaking.
“Oh, God, Hol,” Alexa murmured, not caring if Tyler heard her or not. It was obvious something major was going down between him and Holly.
Tyler tried to backtrack. “Holly, it’s—it’s not that I don’t trust you,” he began haltingly. “But I want you to tell me if you ever feel like I’m…holding you back or something.”
As Alexa steered the car up the hill to El Sueño, Holly felt her chest shudder, even though she wasn’t sobbing yet. “You’re not holding me back,” she murmured, all the while remembering how Tyler had talked about their living together at Rutgers, how he’d laid out the plan of their life as neatly as a grid. Holly was struck by an image of herself perched on a cliff above the ocean, ready to jump, while Tyler tugged on her arm, warning her of dangers ahead. “You’re just…cautious,” she added, fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat.
“You used to be cautious, too,” Tyler replied, and Holly knew the muscle in his cheek was jumping as he spoke. “You’ve changed.”
Holly’s Claddagh ring felt ice-cold on her hot finger, and she touched it, trying to stir up the joy she’d felt when Tyler had given it to her on Tuesday. But, thousands of miles away, it was hard to even envision Tyler’s handsome face. And even though they’d spent spring break on different continents, Holly had never felt more distanced from her boyfriend than she did at this moment. “Why—” Her voice came out hoarse, and the tears hovered on her lashes. “Why did you give me the ring then, if you felt this way about me?”
“Wow,” Alexa said under her breath as they approached Jonah’s sprawling estate. She cast a sidelong glance at Holly; her cheeks were splotchy and her mouth turned down at the corners.
“Holly. Baby.” Tyler’s voice was heavy with worry in Holly’s ear. “It’s not like that. I just wanted to bring up this one issue. Things have been awesome between us—”
“No, they haven’t,” Holly snapped, fresh anger momentarily squelching her tears. Awesome. Suddenly she was sick of that word, of Tyler’s need to always smooth matters over. “If they were,”
she continued, her voice softer, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Maybe, for some time now, she and Tyler had been avoiding that very truth with apology hook-ups, with sweeties, and babys, and professions of love. Could it be?
A chill ran down Holly’s backbone. She didn’t know what to think. In a matter of minutes, her world had been split open, clean as a watermelon, and nothing made sense anymore. Her head was spinning in confusion as Alexa pulled the car to a stop in front of the guesthouse. “I can’t talk anymore,” Holly told Tyler abruptly. “I need to think. About everything.”
“Okay,” Tyler said softly. “Um, say hi to Alexa.”
For a second, Holly wondered if her boyfriend—who was often more perceptive than he seemed—had known that Alexa had been at Holly’s side the whole time. Whatever. She told him goodbye, slapped the phone shut, and promptly burst into tears.
“What happened?” Alexa cried, alarmed. She put the car in park, and then rifled through her denim Balenciaga clutch for tissues. “Did you guys break up?”
“No, of course not.” Holly sniffled, and blew her nose in the tissue Alexa handed her. But suddenly she was thinking of the earlier talk she’d had with Tyler, back at UCLA. Sweetie, I think we’re breaking up, she’d said when his voice had faded out. Holly swallowed hard. In a way, bad cell connections were like bad emotional connections—full of misunderstanding, distance, and frustration. As another shiver went through her, Holly wondered if she’d known something, deep down, during that conversation that she hadn’t been able to admit to herself.
We’re breaking up.
The thought was too impossible to bear, so Holly flung open the car door and leaped out, not caring if Jonah or Esperanza or anyone saw her in tears.
Which, of course, was precisely why Jonah Eklundstrom appeared at that very instant, coming out of the main house. He was trailed not just by Esperanza, but also by Margaux, her fiancé, Paul, a slender, dark-skinned man in a pink polo shirt talking on a cell phone, and a tall, broad-shouldered boy with curly brown hair and a mischievous look on his face.
A boy who eerily resembled—was it?—no—it couldn’t be—
What would surfer Zach from the beach being doing here, at El Sueño? Had he somehow tracked her down to thank her?
Too distracted to care, Holly whirled around and sprinted for the guesthouse, faster than if she were running a race.
Alexa jumped out of the car, intending to follow her distraught friend. But she could see Jonah, Margaux, and their entourage advancing toward her, and she didn’t want to cause more of a scene than necessary. Besides, the small stab of nerves she felt when she spotted Jonah kept her rooted to the spot for a moment.
“Alexa!” Margaux, who was clearly back from her ashram visit, waved both arms, her skull charm bracelet jangling. “Come meet Vikram, my wedding planner,” she added, and gestured to the man in the pink polo shirt. It was obvious that Margaux had no idea what had happened between her brother and Alexa the night before.
Alexa snuck a glance at Jonah and felt herself relax. His dark brows were raised in a sweet, I-promise-I’mnot-mad-at-you expression. Alexa knew he wasn’t pissed about her abrupt change of heart last night. In fact, something in those big blue eyes told Alexa that if she wanted another chance—a reshoot of the scene in the hot tub—he’d gladly give it to her. With the setting sun behind him, wearing a button-down periwinkle shirt untucked over board shorts, Jonah glowed. But the sight of His Royal Hotness failed to bring butterflies to Alexa’s belly. Again, she wondered if she was missing some all-important love chip in her system.
“Yeah, join us,” Jonah said, his tone warm but careful, as the rest of the troop headed for the waiting limo. “We’re getting drinks at Daddy’s, this low-key bar over on Vine.”
Alexa’s eyes flicked over to the others in the group, and noticed that one of the guys looked insanely like the surfer Holly had rescued yesterday. Random. Thinking of Holly, Alexa waved back at Jonah, and shook her head apologetically. “I can’t,” she said, motioning to the guesthouse. “I need to…help Holly with something. But we’ll talk at the wedding, right?”
“Right.” Jonah smiled, holding her gaze for a moment, and then Alexa turned and flew down the flagstone path to the house, unsure as to how she should feel about their interaction.
She found Holly in her green bedroom, flopped across the circular bed with her shoes kicked off, her light-brown hair fanning out over a pillow, and a tissue pressed to her eyes.
“Hol?” Alexa ventured softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m fine,” Holly half sobbed, rolling over so her back was to Alexa. “Tyler and I had a stupid argument. You heard everything.” Of course, Holly was not remotely fine. But even though she knew Alexa was throwing her a rope, a lifeline, she wanted to drown in her sorrows. She wanted to be alone with her swirling thoughts, to sob into her pillow, and come to terms with how she was feeling about her boyfriend.
“If you say so,” Alexa murmured, backing out of the room and gently shutting the door. A blind girl could see that this hadn’t been just another fight between Holly and Tyler. But Alexa knew Holly could be an intensely private person. She’d come around when she was ready. In the meantime, Alexa had enough to think about on her own.
“Tyler?” Holly mumbled an hour later, her eyes fluttering open. She’d been having the most vivid dream about her boyfriend, though she couldn’t recall what it was. Instinctively, she reached one hand out, expecting to feel the warmth of Tyler’s broad back. In Oakridge, Holly and Tyler had managed to spend a few nights sharing a bed, thanks to creative lies about slumber parties and a shared talent for tiptoeing past sleeping parents’ bedrooms. Now, as Holly came to, she realized she was in California, and that the space beside her was empty.
Rubbing her eyes, she felt the dampness of her lashes, and then remembered everything: the phone call, the fight, and her crying jag. But Holly didn’t feel like bawling now; sleep had given her a sense of clarity, and comfort. It was like those few times when she’d twisted an ankle on the track—getting a good night’s sleep always dulled the ache a little.
As Holly slowly sat up, smoothing out her tousled hair, her dream came back to her in a rush. She’d dreamed that it was this past Tuesday morning, and she was saying good-bye to Tyler outside her parents’ house. But instead of accepting his Claddagh ring, she was returning it to him, gently closing his fist around it. The dream hadn’t been painful—rather, Holly had felt a sense of relief so palpable she’d assumed it had been real. Awake now, Holly even glanced down at her hand, and, to her slight surprise, saw that her ring was still in place, winking up at her through the moonlight streaming in through her windows. Her heart dropped in disappointment.
And that was when Holly knew what she had to do.
She swung her legs off the bed, trembling. Before she actually did anything, she needed to find Alexa, to finally talk things through.
But as Holly wandered through the silent, empty hallways, she realized that Alexa was never one to hang around a house on a warm Thursday night. Maybe she’d even rethought her Jonah decision and now the two of them were hooking up at some private, celeb-only club. With a sigh, Holly stepped into the kitchen, hoping to find some comfort food, but then a splashing sound outside the window startled her. At In-N-Out on Tuesday night, Jonah had told Holly and Alexa that he’d once caught determined photographers pawing through his trash can for mail or other kinds of illuminating garbage. Fearful of crazy, stalker paparazzi, Holly held her breath and peered out into the darkness.
But there were no stalkers outside—just Alexa. Holly saw her friend sitting on the edge of the pool, her blonde hair shining in the starlight as her feet kicked gently at the water. She looked like a mermaid contemplating whether or not to return home, and Holly smiled at the image. Without putting on shoes, she slipped out of the house and crossed the flagstone path to the quiet pool area. Alexa glanced up at Holly, her big blue eyes twinkling, but neit
her girl said anything. Holly sat beside her friend, also dangling her feet in the cool, chlorinated water. She thought about all the other times she and Alexa had sat side by side like this, not speaking, but being there for each other nonetheless.
“What were you doing all this time?” Holly finally asked, trailing a line through the blue water with her toe. She didn’t feel like bringing up Tyler just yet.
“Thinking,” Alexa replied, tilting her head to one side, “about our boy troubles.” She paused. “And that I should cut my hair.”
“Are you serious?” Holly demanded, forgetting Tyler for a minute. Alexa was always unpredictable, but this news was truly outrageous. Alexa’s long, rippling, storybook hair had always been her trademark; Holly hadn’t known her friend otherwise. “Boy-short, like Margaux?” Holly added apprehensively.
Alexa shook her head, smiling at Holly’s expression of shock. “To my shoulders, I think.” Alexa knew she would miss her voluminous hair. It was her armor: She’d relied upon it to lure boys, make statements, and intimidate people. But now the time felt ripe for chopping and styling, for a look that was more grownup, more New York, more…new. Maybe it was because she was still worried about her incapacity to fall in love—and felt that changing her look might change her outlook. Maybe it was because Jonah—the source of her love angst—had drooled over her “long blonde hair.” She shrugged at Holly. “I just feel like shifting gears,” Alexa explained.
Holly nodded, emotion rising in her again. “Change can be good,” she agreed softly. Shifting gears. She thought about how natural it now felt to drive in LA, how she’d learned to be confident steering her way across unfamiliar ground. Holly took a deep breath of the salty-fresh air and looked up at the glistening stars. “I’m happy here,” she murmured, as much to herself as to Alexa. It was the first time she’d articulated the thought out loud, and expressing it scared her a little, made it real.