Loved Hollywood (eBook)

Chapter 1:
New Beginnings

There is so much noise. I’m someone who is used to noise, but this is something else entirely.

The University of California’s Los Angeles campus is roaring with life, and I’m having a bit of a freak out.

Calm down. You’ve got this.

I smile at the encouragement and turn my focus from the bustling bodies of UCLA and think about why I’m even here in the first place. The adventure I’m about to embark on has been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember. Oh, the adventures I dreamed up with my ‘imaginary’ friends as my mother once put it.

Come on, Becca. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Stop fussing and go get it.

That’s all I needed to hear. I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, and walk into campus with a smile on my face.

Fake it till you make it.

I’m in awe of everything UCLA has to offer. So many people and buildings. So much life. As I walk around, admiring the uniqueness of it all, I try not to let my shyness takeover. It takes some effort, but I manage to keep my head high.

The people who walk past me are just as fascinating as the campus. There are those who are completely wrapped up in their own worlds, ignoring me as they go along. But there are a few who mirror my smile, who smile back at me as we cross paths for the briefest of seconds. Those small gestures settle some of the nerves in my stomach.

Although, it also takes me back to my childhood when I would be on the playground where it seemed like everyone was set out to ignore me. I know now that it was just my shyness that stopped me from making friends—

It wasn’t your shyness that stopped you, and you know that. The other kids knew the truth. Why don’t you know that by now? Why can’t you admit the truth to yourself, Rebecca?

Swallowing at the harsh voice that popped up, I manage to push all thoughts of my younger self from my mind. As much as I want to wallow in self-pity, I have a class to get to. If there is anything in this world that can pull me out of my head, it’s the idea of what UCLA means to me.

With that in mind, I push away any thoughts that could possibly send me into a tailspin and—fortunately—find my way to my first college class.

The lecture hall is massive, and there are already people filling up the rows of desks. My feet stop dead and my heart rate picks up slightly. There’s no doubt in my mind that a panic attack is coming my way. In a flash, I duck into the closest desk to me and focus on my breathing. The desk is toward the back of the hall which I’m grateful for. It gives me all the opportunity I need to blend into the background, which is exactly what I’m doing.

People’s eyes trail over me and my breathing picks up. In. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three, I repeat to myself. I’m fully aware that my classmates aren’t actually looking at me or acknowledging my presence. Yet, panic still floods my system. The breathing exercises aren’t working so I try to talk myself out of having a panic attack. They aren’t looking at you. Just keep breathing. In and out. You will not let it take control of you again. You’re stronger than this. I tell myself anything I have to to stop the blood rushing in my ears.

But the voices try to break through my own, contradicting everything I’m trying to tell myself. They want me to run, to duck my head in shame and leave. They try to break through the barrier I’ve worked so hard at keeping them behind.

My head begins to pound from the effort of fighting the voices back, and it just makes me panic even more. Headaches are a telltale sign of the bipolar-induced migraines I’ve suffered with my entire life.

This was the last thing I needed today.

As I’m about to succumb to the temptation of the voices and make a run for it, a presence next to me puts a stop in my tracks.

“Hi, this desk isn’t taken, is it?” a quiet, accentuated voice asks.

Looking up from the floor toward the voice, I find a small girl waiting with her bag in hand. Her eyes are unreadable and that makes me nervous. I swallow and give her a small nod to tell her she can have the seat.

Now there’s really no way for me to escape without being noticed. If only I had listened to the voices earlier. I could’ve been halfway home already with the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

The girl makes herself comfortable next to me. I shrink back into myself, my knee bouncing with a mixture of nerves and panic.

“My name’s Emilë,” she says, looking at me expectantly.

With a gulp, I respond, “Rebecca.”

“Nice to meet you, Rebecca. There sure are a lot of people in this class. Don’t you think so?”

I glance around the increasing student mass. “Sure looks like it.”

“It seems to me there must be a lot of people taking similar courses for us all to have the same class. I’m in journalism, and I guess you have something similar otherwise we wouldn’t be sitting next to each other.” Emilë chuckles softly.

Her accent is smooth and intriguing. Sitting up straighter, I ask, “Where are you from?”

“France. This is my first time in the United States.”

“Your English is pretty good,” I say without giving it much thought. “I—I mean—” I’m fumbling around my words and heat starts to overtake my face. How could I be so stupid? I wish for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

We told you that it’s not good to talk to people, one of the voices pipes up. You should listen to us more often, Reb—

A pleasant chuckle interrupts the voices raining down on me. I look to my right and see Emilë smiling, her shoulders moving up and down with her amusement. She’s so beautiful with her pale skin, mesmerizing brown eyes, and a head full of luscious, midnight black curly hair. Emilë is the type of beautiful that has everyone envying her, including me.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says after her laughter has subsided. “My parents put me in English classes from the moment I started school. Their dream was always for me to experience what the world has to offer and they knew I wouldn’t be able to do that without speaking one of the most common languages.”

“Oh.” That was all I could say. No matter what she said though, I was still embarrassed for being so forward.

“You know,” Emilë starts, staring at me intensely. “For someone taking a journalism class, you’re not one for many words.”

“What?” I look at her, slightly confused but mostly taken aback. The fact that she has no problem in coming right out and saying that puts me on edge.

“I don’t mean for it to be negative. Just an observation.”

“Oh, well. You see, it isn’t that I don’t have anything to say,” There’s too much for me to say. “It’s just that I have some trouble talking to others.”

“In what way?”

I realize what I just confessed and almost jump right out of my seat, but I can’t go anywhere.

We can’t believe you just said that, the voices all laugh as one. Neither can I, I think to myself.

Echoing the voices, I laugh off Emilë’s question. “Oh, you know, I’m just shy.”

“Mm.” That’s all she has to say to me, though her hazelnut eyes are as inquisitive as ever.

“Which is just perfect since I start a new job today at this bar close to campus,” I say in an attempt to change the subject and move her attention off of me. I’m afraid that if she keeps looking at me like that, she’ll see everything I’m trying to hide.

A full out laugh bursts from Emilë, drawing the attention of the people around us. They’re captivated by her, just like I knew they would be. Heck, even I’m entranced by the magical sound of her laughter. Then it hits me that she was likely laughing at me, and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and roll on out of here.

Emilë must see the look on my face because she sobers up rather quickly. “I’m not laughing at you, Bex. I pictured you at a bar with your shyness and it was an entertaining thought.”

Bex. She gave me a nickname. My heart feels full at that moment. No one besides my family has ever cared enough to give me a nickname.

Ugh, Bex. Does she really think that’s enduring?

But I ignore the voice trying to rain down on me. Emilë’s infectious smile eases me and I finally feel settled. There’s something about her bluntness that’s refreshing and, as much as I’m weary of it, it does make me want to laugh, too.

Our professor walks in at that moment, calling the class to attention. Emilë is still...