Page 2 of Grip Me Tight
I might be able to walk away from my boyfriend of two years with absolutely no remorse, but my teenage crush? It’s kind of hard to get over someone who is absolutely everywhere. His sexy voice is on every playlist, and there’s even a Allflix series, meaning every time I want to watch something, I see him, with his sexy panty-melting smirk, arms crossed, flashing up in the most-popular category.
Yeah, I get it. He’s popular. He’s gorgeous. He’s a star.
He’s the boy I’ll never forget.
2
Tanner
Iwonder if I’ll ever get over this itchy, self-conscious feeling that steals over me every time I turn down the long road that leads to the Whitlock’s lake house. Is anyone watching me? Are they wondering where I’m heading or why someone like me is in the neighborhood?
No one thinks twice about it now, of course. My old jeans might be Levi’s, but my boots cost almost as much as the heavy silver watch on my wrist and the deep purr of the Maserati’s engine is a far cry from the pneumatic whine and hiss of the bus that used to get me as far as the grocery store a few blocks away, where Don Whitlock would pick me up to spend a month with my best friend.
I lived for those summers. Sometimes the promise of coming here was the only thing that kept me going.
Every single summer since I was thirteen, I would pass that huge rock down at the turn, the one with a fancy name and a date letting everyone know important people live here. I used to dream about what it would be like to call this neighborhood my own, to actually belong. Now, I don’t have to dream. I can buy any house along this stretch, more than one if I wanted to, and I still can’t shake the feeling of not belonging here.
Please meet me tonight in the moonlight
The lyrics wrap around my heart, squeezing and I switch off the music. I’m trying everything I can to get the music flowing back in my head but the last thing I need is the melancholy inspiration of ‘Prisoner’s Song’ right now. I cut my speed, cruising past huge trees festooned with flags and star-spangled ribbons, framing the mansions people around here refer to as cottages. At the end of the road, I pull in past the square stone entrance pillar, taking in the sight of the familiar gray cedar shakes and bright, white trim, the columns decked out in red, white and blue ribbons and a stab of emotion hits me in the gut because I might not belong in the neighborhood, but nothing has ever felt this much like home.
I pull up outside the large front porch, grinning to see the heavy wood door open and a pretty, blonde woman run down the steps as I get out of the car. I knew she’d be waiting.
“Another new car, Tanner?” Emma asks, reaching up to place her hands on my shoulders, eyebrows raised as she glances at my newest toy.
I pat the shiny, black Maserati. “You can take it for a test drive later, if you like.”
She swats me. “Oh, you.” She looks back at the car, sucking her cheeks in and fluttering her fingers. “I think I might.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head, wishing, not for the first time, that Emma was my real mother, when Don comes out, waving. “Oh, good you’re here. I need you and Noah to chop some wood for the fire pit.”
“Let the boys have something to eat, Don.” Emma shook her head. “They just got here.”
“I’m only too happy to help.” And it’s true. This family feeling, Emma fussing, Don with a list of chores – I love it. Even the way she calls us boys, when we haven’t been boys for years. I would have given anything for this growing up. How many nights did I lie in bed pretending my real life was with Noah and his family, and I was stuck in that run-down dump of a row house as a result of some terrible mistake.
Emma slips her arm around me and squeezes. “We’re happy you’re finally home, Tanner. You should call more often.” She looks up at me. “And make time for holidays with us.”
I know she worries about me, as much as she does Noah, despite us being twenty-eight years old and members of one of the most successful rock bands in the world. I should be beyond caring but it’s nice to know someone is thinking about me, wondering if I’ve had enough to eat. Emma and Don send us little care packages all the time. The rest of the guys give us a hard time about it, but they’re pretty quick to dive into the treats. This past year has been the most hectic yet, with Kingmaker putting out an album and then following it up with a Allflix documentary and then dropping a surprise album after the doc premiered, and now preparing for a European tour. About all I have time for is writing, singing and trying to keep my head above water. I’m definitely looking forward to some downtime here, even if it comes with memories of my past. I’ve had two weeks off already, but I wouldn’t call it relaxing. I’ve been writing, or at least trying to write, but it is like pulling fucking teeth lately.
I’m so desperate I almost broke my own rule and considered hooking up with some girl whom I’d met during the Allflix filming. Noah and Blaine tease me constantly about being wound too tight, and spending my nights watching YouTube videos of a girl I can never have seems pathetic for a guy who gets naked pictures in his DMs all the time. Natasha seemed cool when we first met and we chatted a few times, but the next thing I know, she’s posting our texts to her socials and claiming we’re a thing. I try not to be a jerk, and I ask her nicely to take them down, but she refuses. Laird ends up sending me a link to TMZ where she and her boyfriend claim I got her pregnant at some party I probably didn’t even go to and honestly, it’s not worth the fucking effort to correct it. This chick is milking her five minutes of fame which is about all she can do, seeing as how I didn’t fucking go near her, let alone knock her up.
But no one cares about that shit when the story sells.
And it’s the story that keeps popping up. Perpetual bachelor, sexiest man of the year, the lead singer who’s never been linked with anyone invites a random couple to his hotel room and ends up fucking the chick while her boyfriend watches and now she’s pregnant.
I roll my eyes. Of course, that’s the logical course of events. If it’s not this story, then it’s a story about me having a secret relationship with my trainer because two guys who run together most mornings must be waking up together, or if I’m a no-show at some bigshot party, it’s because I’m in rehab. In this business, if you turn down a drink, it’s grounds for suspicion. The boys in the band drink enough for all of us, thank you very much. I prefer being in control at all times.
“The lemonade is in the kitchen, so help yourself. Blaine and Slade will get in later this afternoon and Ajax is already out at the pool.”
I can feel the tension seeping out of my shoulders as Don claps me on the back, taking my bag and swinging it over his shoulder. “Head on into the kitchen, Stella’s been waiting for you. I think Noah headed out to the pool too, unsurprisingly around the same time I mentioned there was wood to chop.” He winks and waves me out.
Walking down the familiar hallway, I notice Emma has changed the paint since the last time I was here. It used to be yellow and now it’s some kind of blue-green that reminds me of the color of the lake every morning through the window in the room I usually stay in. I step into the kitchen, nearly getting knocked over by Stella, who rushes around the island to hug me, her sturdy arms practically lifting me off the ground. No mean feat considering Stella is approximately a foot shorter than me. Her grey hair is pulled back into a bun and her apron is spotless, despite the fact I suspect she’s probably been cooking all day.
“There you are. Looking like a tall, cool glass of water. Are you keeping well?” She’s what I always imagine a grandmother must be like. Small and sturdy and smelling of cookies. Stella hands me a glass of lemonade and looks over my shoulder, wagging her finger. “Do you need condoms in your next care package, Tanner Steele?”
I nearly choke on my drink. “What?” Stella might be a grandmother, but she’s one with a very healthy sex life.
“You heard me, young man. I saw that girl on television saying she was going to have your baby. I thought you had better sense than that.”
