Hollywood's Golden Geek

Chapter Two ♥○

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The wind whipped through my golden locks, and I jolted back against the seat as Khloe slammed her foot down on the accelerator and made a particularly speedy swerve. Gasping slightly, I tilted my head to the side, and shot her a malicious glare. "What sort of driver are you?" I snapped, and she simply smirked in response, resting her left hand on the side door of her crisp, white convertible.

 Rolling my eyes, I jerked my head to the side, scowling at the many designer shops which embraced Rodeo Drive; from Armani to Valentino, they had it all. This road was for the rich, and only the rich. "Khloe," I whined. "I told you, I need to look like a geek. Geeks don't shop at Gucci. They shop at like...walmart." She widened her eyes at the word 'Walmart', and wrinkled her nose up in disgust.

 Ignoring my protests, Khloe slowed down her ferrari and parked it half-hazardly across the sidewalk. She pulled her sunglasses up, so that they were resting precariously on top of her curly hair, and slid out of the car, smoothing out a wrinkle in her tiny red dress. "Khloe, the paparazzi's here,"  I hissed, as I heard the familiar flash of a camera. She wasn't listening though; she was too busy smiling for the cameras.

 "Shut up and smile, darling," she murmured into my ear.

 I felt my stomach drop as they came closer to us, surrounding Khloe's car as if it were some kind of magnet. The all too familiar claustrophobic feeling engulfed me, and I felt as if I was being suffocated. Plastering on a fake smile, I grabbed Khloe by the arm and started to drag her away. "What are you doing? Get off," she hissed, and I blinked slightly, surprised at the sudden anger which evaded her tone.  

 "Avianna, is it true you're dating Justin Bieber?"

"Avianna, are you excited about your new role in Paulo's movie?"

"Smile for the cameras, Avianna,"

"What would you like to say to your fans?"

 "That's it, I'm going." I snapped. "Toodles Khloe."

 Then I pushed my way past the shutterbugs which had huddled around us, looking back for a moment to see if my best friend was going to bother running after me. But no such luck. She was too busy blowing kisses at photographers, waving, smiling, striking a pose; she was the picture perfect celebrity. I stalked down Rodeo Drive, high heels making an irritable clicking sound against the concrete ground. I don't know why I was so angry; it was probably the fact that Khloe had chosen those stupid photographers over me, her best friend.

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I was slumped across the sofa, munching on popcorn as I watched 'Pretty Little Liars' reruns. I had no phone, no money, nothing; I'd left everything in Khloe's car, and I wasn't exactly going to be begging her on my hands and knees for them back. She'd have to apologise first. Apologise for being a nasty, spiteful, arrogant bitch. Okay, maybe I was being a little melodramatic. But still, she deserved it, for ditching me like that.

Letting out a loud sigh, I delved my hand into the popcorn bag and grabbed a handful, shoving them into my mouth. I could just imagine the look on Khloe's face if she saw me like this; in a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and a purple hoodie, hair a mess, stuffing myself with calories. I almost let out a bark of laughter at the thought.

"I'm homeee," I heard a familiar voice trill, and I slowly turned my head round to see Alyson walking into the living room, holding a million pairs of shopping bags in her arms, wearing a mini skirt so tight I wondered how she could possibly move without falling flat on her face. "Oh," she deadpanned, a frown flickering onto her face once she saw me, "it's you."

"No, it's the freakin' Queen," I said venomously, turning my attention back to the television screen. Oh look 'A's' at it again; watch out Hanna.

"Don't take that tone with me, you spoilt brat," she spat. I paused the TV and jerked my head round so that I was looking straight into those evil grey eyes of hers. I was surprised I could see them at all, considering her fake lashes were pretty much the length of my little finger.

"Oh please, you can't tell me what do, you're not my mother," I growled.

"Thank the heavens," she hissed. "Who'd want you for a daughter?"

Ignoring her, I turned away, closing my eyes firmly shut. The drama of the whole day was finally crashing down on me, causing me to pull up my hood so that it draped comfortably across my face. I needed to escape life for a few minutes. But I could hear the tapping of Alyson's heels, as she waited impatiently for a snarky comment.

"Fuck off, Alyson," I said bluntly, my voice muffled, making it sound  almost like a whisper.

She laughed loudly, before flouncing out of the living room, the scent of her favourite Chanel perfume lingering. Cursing her under my breath, I let out a loud groan once I heard the tingling sound of the doorbell. Great, just great. Hauling myself off of the sofa, I pulled down my hood and  stumbled to the front door. Pulling it open, I found myself looking up into the guilty face of Khloe Karter.

"Av-Avianna?" she blinked, looking me up and down. I knew she wanted to say something about what I was wearing, but if she did, the door was going to be slammed right into her face.

"Aren't you quite the Einstein?" I snapped sarcastically.

"Look Av, I'm sorry, I really am. I don't know what happened, I-I just got caught up in the moment." She shot me a pleading look. "Don't be angry at me, please? I bought you your purse," she said finally, gesturing to the chestnut brown DKNY handbag she was holding in her right hand.

Sighing, I took it off of her, pulling out my iPhone to reveal twelve unread messages and three missed calls. I groaned; I'd totally forgotten to go to my OK magazine interview. Scowling, I shoved it back inside my purse, snapping my eyes up to meet Khloe's emerald ones. "Do you forgive me?" she asked after a while, and I sighed.

"Fine, yeah, whatever," I said slowly, not in the mood to argue with her. She squealed and wrapped me up in a tight hug, squeezing me so tight I was scared my lungs would burst. But did I really forgive her?

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