Page 6 of Grip Me Tight
“Really? Why don’t you explain how you do that.” I wrap my arms around my legs and dip my head down to my toes.
“Nice try, but we’re not changing the subject, Sterling. What’s the story with you and Tanner Steele? God, even his name is sexy. How did you end up in the middle of a bunch of rock stars, anyway?”
“Well, my brother is one, for starters. And Tanner’s his best friend. They weren’t always rock stars, although we probably should have seen it coming the way those two hung out in the basement playing guitar instead of video games. Tanner actually lived with us for a bit while I was growing up.” I start back up at a slow jog.
“Mm, hmm. And what else?”
“And maybe I had a crush on him.”
Claire stops again and points a long coffin-shaped nail at me. “Everybody has crushes. Hell, I don’t even know him and when Downtown comes up on my playlist, my panties disintegrate.”
“I’m sure lots of women lose their panties around Tanner.” I jog in place. “If you keep stopping, we’re never going to finish this run and my watch is going to tell me I didn’t meet my goal.”
“Okay, okay.” Claire starts down the road. “But a crush is nothing. You’re not telling me everything. What was he like before? An arrogant jerk?”
I think about the way he carried me up the stairs when I was thirteen and too weak to make it on my own. I remember all the Mario Kart tournaments we had when I was too sick to get off the couch and Dad was at work and mom was trying to manage Noah’s guitar lessons. My chest squeezes and it has nothing to do with our running pace. “No, he’s not a jerk.”
“So, what’s the issue? You had a few g-rated daydreams about a hot boy who went on to be a freaking rock star. That’s pretty normal behaviour.”
“I might have kissed him.”
“What? Really? You kissed Tanner Steele?” Claire picks up the pace. “How come you’ve never said anything before?” Claire’s face falls. “Oh. Oh, was it terrible?” She holds up a hand. “No, if it was terrible, I don’t want to know. It’ll totally ruin the image. Wait! Do you think that’s why he’s perpetually single? Is he a teeth grinder? Too much saliva?” She makes a face, mock gagging.
“No!” I can’t help but laugh at her antics. “He’s not a bad kisser. At least not then.”
“Then what has you guys acting so weird?” Claire stops again, grabbing the back of my tank. “Oh. My. God. You gave your v-card to Tanner Steele. You lucky, little slut!”
I let my head fall back. This run is going nowhere. “I did not give anything to Tanner Steele.” I sigh, giving up. “I tried to, and he didn’t want it.”
“What? He rejected you? Maybe he really isn’t into women after all.”
It wasn’t so much that he rejected me. It was more like he opened a great bottle of wine, got out the good napkins, poured butter on me, then chewed me up and spit me out. “Yeah, he wasn’t interested.”
“Is he blind? Some sort of monk?” Claire shoots me a sidelong glance. “l find it pretty hard to believe he turned you down. Maybe you were too subtle.”
I think back to that night. “Nope. That’s definitely not it.”
“Hmmm. Maybe he regrets it. The way his eyes are tracking you don’t really scream ‘disinterest’ to me.”
I start to jog again. “No way. He’s probably just automatically tracking some tits and ass until there’s enough of it here for him to indulge.”
Claire catches up beside me. “I don’t know. His style seems to be more low-key than the other guys. He’s never seen with anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t taking advantage of every groupie who wants to ‘Feel the Steele’. Ugh. Who came up with that anyway?” I knew from the bits Noah divulges that Tanner might never have a steady girlfriend but it doesn’t mean he’s lacking in company. “The guy has women throwing their panties at him when he tries to eat dinner in public. Isn’t there some couple out there claiming he fathered their unborn baby?” He practically exudes pure sex and that kind of swagger only comes from confidence and that comes from getting whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. No wonder he hadn’t wanted a geeky virgin throwing herself at him.
Especially one with a giant scar at her bikini line. I haven’t been self-conscious in years but feeling his eyes on me yesterday had me wanting to throw on a muumuu.
“He told Noah it’s not his baby.”
“Yeah, mom and dad said the same thing.”
“What’s the deal with the party tonight anyway? Do your parents let the guys invite lots of groupies?”
“No. Actually, Noah usually just invites his girlfriend-of-the-month and maybe some of her friends. My parents are pretty strict about the guestlist even though it’s big. Dad’s got people coming from work and a few of his long-time clients as well. Stella usually invites her local book club, and my aunts come over too. My cousins are flying in today. Mom usually sends out rules because they’re not interested in someone taking pictures of Dad’s clients or worse, selling a story on the boys.” I air-quote my fingers for ‘boys’. A bunch of guys in their late twenties pulling in millions with constant exposure on social media about everything from their favorite food to their sexual exploits and general hotness factor, and my parents still think of them as ‘boys’.
I guess it makes sense as Dad promises he will always see me as Daddy’s little princess, and it’s clear with every idea I float his way that doesn’t include me heading to law school, he not just blowing smoke. At this rate, I’m never going to get to go anywhere or do anything, ever.
I hear a car slow behind me and my body tightens. Hopefully some asshole doesn’t stick his head out the window and comment on our jogging form, outfits, or ask if we want a ride, a drink, or a good time. I want to know, really, if any woman – ever – has been catcalled during a jog and the guy gets lucky from some dumb comment or wolf whistle. I’m hot, sweaty, and out of breath. My running shorts are riding up between my thighs and there’s a band of sweat under my boobs. I’m not feeling sexy at all.
