Read Online Holly Hearts Headlines (Holly Hearts Hollywood Book 2) by Kenley Conrad - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kenley Conrad
Ads: Link
dryly. “Hey, are you busy this afternoon?”
I peered at him carefully, remembering the last time I asked him if he was busy he quickly informed me that he was in a relationship. “No,” I said slowly.
“My girlfriend and I,” he gestured vaguely over his shoulder at a girl who was, very determinedly, doing a set of squats, “are going to this awesome flea market in Pasadena today. I remember you saying something about being a collector. I thought you’d like to go, and my girlfriend’s been dying to meet you.”
I’ve said it before, I’m not the kind of person who makes friends easily. I don’t even usually have a lot of friends in the first place. I have two or three good friends and that’s it. I can’t emotionally handle anyone else. So when Hakim told me that they wanted to go hang out with me, my mind was kind of blown. And let’s be real, I’m in no position to pass up new friends, seeing as how all my other friends don’t want to talk to me anymore.
“Um, sure,” I stuttered. “Sounds like fun.”
But it did not sound like fun. Not at all. The stress I feel when I’m going to hang out with someone new is probably similar to the anxiety an NFL player feels before he plays his first professional game. It is that split second before you jump out of an airplane with a parachute on your back. It is the worst thing ever . And sure, later on as I’m winning the big game or floating down safely to the ground I might think, “Wow I’m so glad I did this!” but there’s always a chance that everything will go wrong, and that they’ll regret asking me to do anything.
Sometimes I feel like I don’t know how to talk to other people. It is like I live on my own planet, and I speak my own alien language. I can just see the light in people’s eyes slowly going out while I’m talking to them, and I can sense them losing interest in me and what I’m saying. It’s hard. What am I supposed to do differently?
Once Hakim’s girlfriend finished her workout, she lightly jogged over to us and smiled brightly. Her teeth were just as white and straight as any Hollywood starlet, especially against her dark brown skin. “Hi, I’m Ruby!” she said cheerily. Her hair was dark and cut short and very close to her head.
“Hi, I’m Holly,” I said shyly. I’m like a Venus fly-trap. The moment anyone gets near me I completely shut down.
We all got into Hakim’s car and drove out to Pasadena for this flea market that was being held in the parking lot of the Rose Bowl Stadium. The Rose Bowl is a huge stadium. I mean if Beyoncé has performed there, you know it’s a big place. So the parking lot was pretty much the size of a small European principality. There were tons of booths and tables set up with almost anything you could imagine for sale.
I was in heaven. But, my experience was a little hindered by the fact that I couldn’t fill up a plastic bag full of detached doll heads like I wanted to because of the looming prospect of college. Mom would kill me if I came home with new stuff when she just finished telling me to get rid of most of my collections.
Ruby and Hakim are a really cool couple. They are a little older than me, and it seems like they have everything figured out. They live together, have good jobs, and probably will get married in a few years. It must be nice to be an adult and know what you want out of life. I barely know what I want to eat for dinner tonight. Maybe stroganoff. Or Chinese food.
I was lingering around this table that was selling used wigs that were apparently used by Lady Gaga, or so he claimed, but I met Lady Gaga last month and I know for a fact that she’d never wear the garbage that guy was peddling, when Ruby came over to me.
“So, Holly, do you have a boyfriend?” she asked brightly, obviously completely unaware of the emotional torment I feel when someone asks me that. Also, why do people always ask me if I have a boyfriend first before they ask about me and
I peered at him carefully, remembering the last time I asked him if he was busy he quickly informed me that he was in a relationship. “No,” I said slowly.
“My girlfriend and I,” he gestured vaguely over his shoulder at a girl who was, very determinedly, doing a set of squats, “are going to this awesome flea market in Pasadena today. I remember you saying something about being a collector. I thought you’d like to go, and my girlfriend’s been dying to meet you.”
I’ve said it before, I’m not the kind of person who makes friends easily. I don’t even usually have a lot of friends in the first place. I have two or three good friends and that’s it. I can’t emotionally handle anyone else. So when Hakim told me that they wanted to go hang out with me, my mind was kind of blown. And let’s be real, I’m in no position to pass up new friends, seeing as how all my other friends don’t want to talk to me anymore.
“Um, sure,” I stuttered. “Sounds like fun.”
But it did not sound like fun. Not at all. The stress I feel when I’m going to hang out with someone new is probably similar to the anxiety an NFL player feels before he plays his first professional game. It is that split second before you jump out of an airplane with a parachute on your back. It is the worst thing ever . And sure, later on as I’m winning the big game or floating down safely to the ground I might think, “Wow I’m so glad I did this!” but there’s always a chance that everything will go wrong, and that they’ll regret asking me to do anything.
Sometimes I feel like I don’t know how to talk to other people. It is like I live on my own planet, and I speak my own alien language. I can just see the light in people’s eyes slowly going out while I’m talking to them, and I can sense them losing interest in me and what I’m saying. It’s hard. What am I supposed to do differently?
Once Hakim’s girlfriend finished her workout, she lightly jogged over to us and smiled brightly. Her teeth were just as white and straight as any Hollywood starlet, especially against her dark brown skin. “Hi, I’m Ruby!” she said cheerily. Her hair was dark and cut short and very close to her head.
“Hi, I’m Holly,” I said shyly. I’m like a Venus fly-trap. The moment anyone gets near me I completely shut down.
We all got into Hakim’s car and drove out to Pasadena for this flea market that was being held in the parking lot of the Rose Bowl Stadium. The Rose Bowl is a huge stadium. I mean if Beyoncé has performed there, you know it’s a big place. So the parking lot was pretty much the size of a small European principality. There were tons of booths and tables set up with almost anything you could imagine for sale.
I was in heaven. But, my experience was a little hindered by the fact that I couldn’t fill up a plastic bag full of detached doll heads like I wanted to because of the looming prospect of college. Mom would kill me if I came home with new stuff when she just finished telling me to get rid of most of my collections.
Ruby and Hakim are a really cool couple. They are a little older than me, and it seems like they have everything figured out. They live together, have good jobs, and probably will get married in a few years. It must be nice to be an adult and know what you want out of life. I barely know what I want to eat for dinner tonight. Maybe stroganoff. Or Chinese food.
I was lingering around this table that was selling used wigs that were apparently used by Lady Gaga, or so he claimed, but I met Lady Gaga last month and I know for a fact that she’d never wear the garbage that guy was peddling, when Ruby came over to me.
“So, Holly, do you have a boyfriend?” she asked brightly, obviously completely unaware of the emotional torment I feel when someone asks me that. Also, why do people always ask me if I have a boyfriend first before they ask about me and
Similar Books
