Hold Me Now
A Totally ‘80s Romance 3
Addison Moore
Contents
Copyright
Books by Addison Moore
1. Jessie’s Girl
Jessie
2. I Know What Boys Like
Jessie
3. Smooth Operator
Jessie
4. Hold Me Now
Jessie
5. Lay Your Hands on Me
Jessie
6. Addicted to Love
Jessie
7. What’s Love Got to Do with It
Jessie
8. Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?
Jessie
9. Take on Me
Jessie
Epilogue
A Note from the Author
Books by Addison Moore
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Edited by Paige Maroney Smith
Cover Design: Gaffey Media
Copyright © 2016 by Addison Moore
http://addisonmoorewrites.blogspot.com/
This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.
All Rights Reserved.
This ebook is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase any additional copies for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2016 by Addison Moore
Table of Contents
Books by Addison Moore
Young Adult Romance
Melt With You (A Totally ’80s Romance 1)
Tainted Love (A Totally ’80s Romance 2)
Hold Me Now (A Totally ’80s Romance 3)
Ethereal (Celestra Series Book 1)
Tremble (Celestra Series Book 2)
Burn (Celestra Series Book 3)
Wicked (Celestra Series Book 4)
Vex (Celestra Series Book 5)
Expel (Celestra Series Book 6)
Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7)
Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5)
Elysian (Celestra Series Book 8)
Ephemeral (The Countenance Trilogy 1)
Evanescent (The Countenance Trilogy 2)
Entropy (The Countenance Trilogy 3)
Ethereal Knights (Celestra Knights)
Season of the Witch (A Celestra Companion)
Romance
3:AM Kisses (3:AM Kisses 1)
Winter Kisses (3:AM Kisses 2)
Sugar Kisses (3:AM Kisses 3)
Whiskey Kisses (3:AM Kisses 4)
Rock Candy Kisses (3:AM Kisses 5)
Velvet Kisses (3:AM Kisses 6)
Wild Kisses (3:AM Kisses 7)
Burning Through Gravity (Burning Through Gravity 1)
A Thousand Starry Nights (Burning Through Gravity 2)
Fire in an Amber Sky (Burning Through Gravity 3)
Beautiful Oblivion (Beautiful Oblivion 1)
Beautiful Illusions (Beautiful Oblivion 2)
Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion 3)
The Solitude of Passion
Someone to Love (Someone to Love 1)
Someone Like You (Someone to Love 2)
Someone For Me (Someone to Love 3)
Celestra Forever After (Celestra Forever After 1)
The Dragon and the Rose (Celestra Forever After 2)
The Serpentine Butterfly (Celestra Forever After 3)
Perfect Love (A Celestra Novella)
Chapter One
Jessie’s Girl
Jennifer
December 31, 1985
Dear Diary Katie,
Happy almost New Year! My Aunt Goldie gifts me a new you every single year for Christmas, and I usually wait until January to begin our non-adventure, but this year I thought I’d cheat a little because I’m wild that way. I’ve had six diaries (Hello, number seven! Yes, I am a self-proclaimed nerd. Thank you for asking!) and they’ve all been pretty cutesy on the outside, sort of an ode to the perennial fifth grader in me (the way Aunt Goldie likes to view her niece) with covers like Precious Moments, Hello Kitty, Little Twin Star, and last year it was Garfield. But, you! You are full of rainbow “bright” encouragement. Like, literally, you have a banner of multi-colored sentences printed on every cheery square inch that reads spectacularly clichéd things like: It’s always darkest before dawn! Anyone can catch your eye, but it takes someone special to catch your heart! When odds are one in a million, be that one! Love is nothing in tennis, but in life it’s everything! Follow your heart. You might find that your dreams are just around the corner! Always look on the bright side!
But don’t worry. I still think you’re totally cool. Oh, and I almost forgot! I always name my diaries after a girl I knew in fifth grade, Katie Thompson. Katie’s mom was an artist who scored some big acrylic career break, so they had to move to San Francisco right in the middle of the school year. Katie was a great listener, and “dear diary” sounded so ridiculously sappy and stupid (Sorry!). Katie just sounded like it fit you better. So, here we are again, Katie! New year, new you! The bad news is, I’m still me.
So like here’s the 411 on moi:
1. I have two best friends, Melissa Malinowski and Heather Knowles. They’ve both recently abdicated their positions in Virgins United, leaving my pristine vagina and me as the sole members. And as fate would have it, I’m also the last girl standing in the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, but, hey, at least now I get to be president of that flat chested organization, right? There’s always a bright side! Or at least that’s what your cover claims.
2. My brother, Mark, is a stoner who got kicked out of Glen Heights High and was held back a grade. He’ll graduate from remedial school just in time to share the spotlight with yours truly come June. Also, two years ago, my parents (in a fit of reasonable sanity) took away his Suzuki Samurai and gifted it to their more sensible, less chemically altered child, me.
3. Last, but never least, I might be majorly obsessed with a boy named Jessie Fox—oh, hell, I am. He’s like drop-dead gorgeous, and totally rad. He drives TWO cars! Yes, that’s right—not one, but two. Although, he’s so filthy rich he can probably drive ten if he wants to. He has a sapphire blue Chevy IROC-Z and a bright red Corvette. Like totally insane, right? Oh, and on occasion, he borrows his dad’s white truck so that makes his red, white, and blue vehicular harem rather all-American, don’t you think? My obsession with that star-spangled boy started the moment I laid eyes on him three long years ago. I’m not particularly proud of this fact—but I have to focus my pent-up teenage angst in somebody’s direction, and Jessie is all-around pretty rad. He’s sort of Glen Heights High’s resident playboy, fully equipped with a harem of actual harlots to suck face with at any given time he pleases. His God-given talent? He specializes in gifting hickey necklaces. It’s an indoctrination ritual that dozens of (Lucky? Unlucky? Oh, heck, they’re damn lucky!) girls have had the pleasure to partake in—although, I haven’t seen proof of his oral handiwork as of late. Slacker! Anyway, he has two steady girlfriends at the moment (It’s been a slow season.), Tess Nichols and Rachel Torres. I’m going to be perfectly honest with you—I love to hate them. Like really, I’m almost as equally obsessed with them as I am with Jessie, but in reverse. I especially despise how morbidly perfect, cover girl pretty, and overall awesome to the max they are—in an evil
villain kind of way. And have I mentioned that their Candie’s shoe collection is to die for?
Although, confession, if I could, I would totally swap bodies with either one of them. I swear on all that is holy, I would not be half the bitch they are, but I wouldn’t hesitate in jumping Jessie Fox’s bones asap before the metaphysical mishap wore off. Every girl is entitled to one good Freaky Friday fantasy, right? But I can’t switch bodies with anyone, which brings me to one more thing you should know about boring old me…
I’m a classic book nerd. It’s true. I like to read—correction, I’m obsessed with books. I love the way they smell, the way the pages feel sharp and crisp when they’re new, and the way they feel soft as cloth once they age to a buttery-yellow perfection. I swear, just walking around the bookstore gets me high. I almost peed my pants when B. Dalton reorganized their young adult section and nearly doubled their stock. Okay, confession, I did pee my pants. Mom says that books help me relax, so it’s only natural that being in a bookstore loosens my bladder, and my bowels. I think that’s pretty sick, but, as usual, my mother’s diagnosis of loose bodily fluids is spot-on. Other than that, I have a rather vast and expansive legwarmer collection. I have so many, in fact, I can coordinate with a different outfit every day of the week without having repeats for an entire month. But I figure they’ll always be in style, so I’m simply building my future stockpile. See? Boring.
Anyway, there’s a New Year’s Eve Evil party tonight, and I’m totally not going. I’d rather watch that crystal ball explode over Dick Clark’s head than observe every single person I know participating in a spontaneous and oddly simultaneous make-out session once the clock strikes midnight. Worse yet, watching both Tess and Rachel play tonsil hockey with Jessie would make me want to loosen their bladders and their bowels by way of a pitchfork—so ixnay on witnessing the three-way tongue twister. I’m not in the mood to procure a bowel eviscerating felony.
There’s that.
Anyway—I’ll see you next year! ( Welcome to Clichés “R” Us! Just remember, you started this tacky war of words.)
XOXO ~ Jen
Book I’m currently reading or in this case rereading: My Sweet Audrina by V.C. Andrews (What a freaky classic! Emphasis on the freaky.)
Favorite song: “Lonely in Your Nightmare” by Duran Duran (And I predict the rest of my senior year will be pretty lonely, too.) Simon Le Bon forever!
Nightmare or not, welcome to my life. Prepare to be bored right down to your over-bleached parchment. This lock on the side of your bindings? You’re going to wish daily that I lose the key.
* * *
No sooner do I close my diary than my door bursts open as Melissa and Heather tumble in, chiming “Surprise!”
In a stealth, quick as lightning move, I shove Katie under the bed and jump to my feet. Not that my diary, or Katie per se, are a forbidden secret with these two. They’ve both been apprised of who the original Katie is and why I’ve been scribbling her name down nightly in a bedtime ritual in which I shed my hopes and dreams. Heather and Melissa have read several volumes of my boring confessionals, not that I particularly want them to make it a habit. I’m not running a gossip column here. Although, some days I wish I were. At least then I’d have a little excitement in my life.
“No,” I flatline before they can say a word. I know what they’re here to do, and it simply isn’t going to work.
Melissa scowls a moment while eyeing my brand new rainbow striped diary peeking out from under the bed as if assessing the situation. Melissa is beautiful in that natural girl next-door sort of way. It’s no wonder Joel Miller scooped her up for himself. Joel was a senior last year and one of the hottest guys on the football team. They had a storied romance—mean girls and broken bones were involved. All of the exciting things happen to Melissa.
She shrugs to Heather. “Like I guess she’d much rather spin a work of fiction in her diary than hang out with her real friends.”
“I’m so sure.” I give a half-hearted attempt to refute the accusation. “Trust me, there’s not like one fictional account in any of those pages. I keep it so real my pen runs out of ink on purpose.”
Heather smirks. She, too, is pretty to a fault. Blonde hair, big doe eyes, perfect everything. She and Russell James are finally going around after a start-and-stop relationship that came precariously close to stopping once and for all. But I’m thrilled it didn’t. Heather and Russell are beyond cute together, with their Wonder Twin powers and other adorable little inside foibles. My heart pinches at the thought of having someone like that in my own life.
“Really? Writing in your diary, Jen? Stop being such a Tesla Girl,” Heather growls while opening my closet. It’s a walk-in, but there’s no real room to actually walk in. I have it clogged with a mountain of clothes and shoes and enough stuffed animals to start a polyester zoo.
Both Melissa and Heather have spent the last few days trying to convince me to head to Craig Amalfiano’s tonight for the big New Year’s Evil rager. Hanging with stoners and a keg for the next three hours while my two best friends get lost with their respective boy toys? I think I’ll pass.
“It’s our senior year.” Melissa bounces on my bed, snapping up my diary from underneath it with the smooth dexterity of an acrobat with clepto tendencies.
I snatch it right out of her hand. “So you’ve reminded me ten thousand times.” Newsflash, I want to say, my senior year sucks big hairy balls. I’m pretty sure it’s nothing a Solo cup filled with skunk juice can cure.
“You’re ruining it, by the way.” She snatches my diary back and gives a devilish grin. “Besides, I want to see what you said about me.”
“I’m not ruining anyone’s senior year.” With the exception of my own, and that is totally by default.
Heather comes at me with a short red dress, still on the hanger, that I bought last summer for a party, at ironically Craig Amalfiano’s house, but never wore it. It’s tight knit with metallic red thread interwoven and catches the light like a fiery star. I actually bought it after I heard that Jessie Fox’s favorite color is red. And now, just looking at it, limp and lifeless, with its white rectangular tags mocking me, a double clearance item from Judy’s, it looks just pathetic. I’m pathetic. Jessie Fox is pathetic. His hickey harem is most certainly pathetic. For sure, I don’t want to be seen in that siren of a dress trying to garner some boy’s attention who has built a reputation scamming on girls.
My skin prickles as a tiny part of me decries this theory.
“No.” I take the dress from Heather, and my stomach bites with heat. Why does Jessie have to be such a scammer anyway? He’s gorgeous. Why couldn’t he be normal? Normal as in a boy who prefers just one girlfriend, like Joel and Russell, both of which are his buddies. Obviously, they’re not much of an influence on him. Or, better yet, why couldn’t I be like the rest of his harem and not give a rat’s ass how many other necks he’s chewed on before the night is over? I swear, watching “Jessie’s Girls”—and, yes, they’ve been gifted the Rick Springfield inspired moniker—is like watching a slut parade.
I wish to God my hormones had better judgment on who to crush on. Heather and Melissa are so lucky they have great boyfriends whose lips haven’t tasted a thousand female necks—and God knows what other body parts.
“You guys go ahead.” I flop the dress over my bed, void and lifeless as the night I’m about to experience. “I’m not in a partying mood. I just want the next few months to zip by so we can graduate already. I’m done. I’m ready to move on to the real world.”
“Newsflash.” Melissa inches my diary under her nose to get a better look at me. I swear, if it had anything worthwhile in it, we would have been in a wrestling match by now. “Like last time I checked, this is the real world. And, FYI, Heather and I want to spend our last New Year’s Eve as seniors with our best friend. So like if you don’t come with us, we’re going to spend the whole night wishing you were there. I swear, you’re going to jinx the entire next year for the thr
ee of us if we’re not together on this one holy night.”
“Totally true.” Heather dusts her cheeks with my CoverGirl blush. “1986 will be the worst year on record, and we’ll be able to trace the entire debacle right to this very bedroom.” She plugs in the Clairol Illuminated Makeup Mirror that Santa, aka my mother, gifted me for Christmas. It’s totally cool because it comes with four different lighting settings—day, office, evening, and home. I don’t know how I ever did my makeup without it.
Heather proceeds to plug in my curling iron, escalating this entire New Year’s Evil situation without proper warrant.
“Besides”—she continues—“I don’t think you’ve missed a single major event, and not having you there tonight will suck big hairy balls.”
I twist a wry smile since I just used that very disgusting descriptor a moment earlier to describe my life in general.
“By the way”—Melissa waves the diary to Heather—“she says we left her alone in Virgins United.”
They share a vindictive cackle, and I toss my Ziggy pillow at Melissa.
“Trust me, I don’t care about Virgins United. My vagina and I don’t need a boy to define us. I’m glad you two, and all of your girl parts, found the right person to unite with. And until I do, I’m whole and happy on my own.” God, I’m starting to sound like those self-help books my mother mentally ingests like vitamins. I glare down at my diary. Bright Side Katie must be so proud of my positive virginal outlook on life. “And you’re both wrong,” I add. “Tonight will not suck big hairy balls if I don’t go because you guys are going to have a great time with or without me. And, to your point, Melissa, we’ll be all seniors again one day. We’ll celebrate plenty of New Year’s Eves together once our kids shove us in an old folks’ home.” My grandmother on my dad’s side was stuck in Little Sisters of the God Forsaken for three solid years before her poor soul discovered the escape route out of her body. It smelled like ketchup and bowel movements gone awry in that place, and both my brother and I used to breathe into our shirts just to get through the visit. My grandmother was the best person in the whole world, and it still breaks my heart that her children saw fit to intern her there. I’ve made a careful note never to piss off my kids.