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Seeing only the tops of the HOLLYWOOD letters clearly wasn't enough for Bobbi.
"Is there a way down?" she asked, itching for more.
Henry scanned the perimeter and pointed. "Last time I came, someone had cut a hole in the fence. Should be over there. Worst case, we climb."
"Let's go!" she said, practically marching already.
They found the hole quickly enough and slipped through one after the other.
Even in running shoes, Bobbi kept skidding on the sandy slope, arms flailing as she fought for balance. More than once she slid several steps down the hill. The only reason she didn't end up face-first in the dirt was Henry's occasional, well-timed hand.
A hand she sometimes pushed away with disdain…
And sometimes dove right into with dramatic shrieks and a mischievous wink — a little bit of theatre, just for fun.
If Henry hadn't been listening to her calm, steady heartbeat the whole time, he might've mistaken all this for genuine flirting.
Oscar-worthy, he thought. What a waste not to debut in Hollywood.
He played along without exposing the act, guiding her down the slope until they reached the base of the world-famous sign.
The platform was little more than an uneven ledge carved out of the hillside — part natural, part old construction workspace — but now long weathered into something wild and scruffy.
Bobbi's excitement evaporated the moment she got close.
She brushed a finger over a rusted steel strut and a curled patch of metal. "It's so… ugly up close. Rust everywhere. The panels are peeling. And being right under it, you can't even see the whole thing."
Henry laughed. "Most things in life look better from a distance. The closer you get, the more the flaws show. Classic American Dream pattern.
"And remember, this version was rebuilt in '78 — almost sixteen years ago now. Out here in the sun, wind, and rain every single day? Rust is the least surprising part. And trust me, the old wooden version was far worse."
Bobbi glanced sidelong at him. "So what do you think? Better to keep your distance, or get close and accept all the flaws?"
Henry kept his tone breezy — but his meaning wasn't lost. "With THIS Hollywood sign? Best distance is where you can enjoy all nine letters at once. Too close, and you start touching rusty edges and sharp metal. And out here?" He glanced around the dry brush. "Maybe a rattlesnake."
Both clearly understood the double meaning, but neither pushed it.
Henry looked at the sky. "We should head back. I didn't bring a flashlight. If it gets dark and we're stuck on a hillside path, that's a nightmare."
It wasn't anywhere near sunset yet, but there was no reason to risk stumbling back in the dark.
Bobbi nodded, oddly satisfied despite her disappointment. "Let's go."
For seasoned hikers, descending is the hard part. For regular people, climbing up is torture. Thankfully, this wasn't real mountain climbing — just a tiring, uneven trail.
By the time they made it back to the parking lot, Bobbi had ditched her hat, unzipped her coat, and stopped talking altogether.
The former high-school gymnastics champion was completely winded.
Henry settled her into the car, grabbed two cold bottles from the cooler in the trunk, and passed one to her.
They both downed their bottles instantly, like desert travelers finding an oasis.
Bobbi tried to save face. "It wasn't actually that long a hike."
"Of course," Henry said kindly. "We've been walking all day — anyone would be tired. On a normal day, that little slope is nothing."
Bobbi's stubborn expression softened.
Henry smiled. "How about dinner? We can head down the hill and find something."
She blinked at him for a second — then broke into a bright smile. "Yeah. Okay."
Henry led her to a cheap-but-delicious spot he knew, and the two chatted over warm plates.
Later, he drove her back to her hotel. She stepped out, leaned down to his window, and asked:
"Henry… want to come up for a cup of coffee?"
The tilt of her face, the glint in her eyes — an invitation wrapped with a bow.
Henry chuckled. "And here I thought you followed the three-date rule."
"That's what girls say to reject guys they're not interested in." Bobbi rolled her eyes. "When we are interested, we don't wait and lose to some other girl who jumps straight into his arms."
"You're not worried the guy might act differently once he gets what he wants?"
"That just means I misjudged him. That's a lesson, not something to fear. I study biology — if I were scared of making mistakes, I'd never do experiments at all."
Henry laughed, but shook his head. "Shame, really. I didn't plan for an invitation tonight. I need to get back and feed my cat."
"You have a cat?" Bobbi raised a brow.
"A very large, very hungry tabby," Henry said with a straight face. "I left lunch for him, but not dinner. If I skip a meal, the apartment will be in ruins by morning. I don't cage him in, you know. And you wouldn't want me to be the kind of man who forgets a starving pet just for a cup of coffee, right?"
"That is a shame," Bobbi murmured — then smiled again. "Then how about tomorrow? Same time, same café? Or I can wait here and you pick me up?"
"…There's still more?" Henry blinked.
"Of course. I'm still on break — and Hollywood isn't fully explored." She grinned.
"Well then… see you tomorrow."
Bobbi leaned through the window, grabbed his collar, and planted a quick kiss on his lips — feather-light, teasing.
"Make sure you feed your little cat before you come," she whispered.
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