Moving Forward (Moving Neutral, Book Three) (17 page)

Chapter Forty-One

After everyone was back together, the club brought over a few more VIP guests who wanted to meet us, and we talked for a while and took a few pictures.  Tanner poured me another drink—
not
the thousand dollar whiskey—that I gratefully accepted.   

I looked down at my phone, surprised that it was already almost midnight
— it felt like we’d only been out for a few minutes. 

As if the club realized the same thing at the same time I did, girls in black cocktail dresses with black-rimmed eye makeup started distributing light sticks, feather boas, toasting glasses, and big goofy glitter
hats to anyone who could get their hands on one.  I took a handful of lightsticks in different colors and a boa, wrapping the feathers around my neck.

Sophie grabbed
a hat, and Tanner and Brett passed completely, hugging their much-more-expensive drinks to their chest while the waitresses trotted around with tiny pours of cheap supermarket champagne, the labels mostly concealed with black towels.

I kept my drink too, and felt myself get excited when the screen at the center of the club finally showed Times Square.  It had been midnight on the East Coast for the
past three hours, but it was still nice to keep the tradition.  The countdown began, starting on the screen and then spreading to the dance floor, and then up to the VIP balcony, where everyone chanted the seconds in sync.

Ten, nine, eight…

I could lie and say that Tanner made his way over to me, but it was something more subtle, like magnets.  One minute he was across the room, and the next we were side by side.  And the funny thing was, I didn’t remember moving a muscle.

Seven, six
…

It was like elastic, like glue that I could pull apart and would snap back together the second I let go.  His fingers brushed the back of my dress, against my bare skin. 

Five, Four…

I tilted my head up, feeling my breath go shallow and weak.  I took in Tanner’s perfect chiseled features, cheekbones that could cut steel, the slight scruff on his chin where he hadn’t shaved.   I felt my chin tilt up, almost on its own.

Three…

That was enough for
him.  In one motion, he pulled me into his arms, so possessively that it felt like he might never let me go.  Running his hands down my sides, he took my cheek in his hand and steadied me, looking into my eyes for one last moment, questioning, giving me a chance to turn back.

Two…

But there was no turning back.  After everything I’d been through, this was what I wanted.  I wanted it now.  I wanted him to want me and not push me away in the same breath.  I took in his pure, physical need, and returned it.

I
wanted to say something, but I’d learned by now that talking was the quickest way to spoil a moment like this. 

And I didn’t want him to stop.

One.

Chapter Forty-Two

It was almost one in the morning, and the music was still going strong, when I leaned up to Tanner and whispered that it was time to go home.   

The grin he shot my way was equal parts sly and
sweet.  It was hard to resist.

“My call time is
nine tomorrow,” I reminded him.  “I’ve got to get a few minutes of sleep before my debut as the face of Phoenix Rising,” I tugged at his hand, saying the name of the denim brand.  “Although after tonight, they might decide to call the line ‘Phoenix Going Back to Bed.’”

Tanner didn’t try to conceal
his disappointment on his face, but he seemed to understand.

“You know I can’t be late,” I said, looking up at him with wide eyes.  “The whole crew is getting up at nine a.m. on New Year’s Day to make this happen.”

He put an arm around me, rubbing my shoulder.  “No worries, Snow.  We have plenty of time before you go back to school.  Do you want me to drop you off?”

I looked behind me.  Sophie and Brett
were deep in conversation and seemed to be having fun, so I didn’t want to break them up.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all—” Tanner gestured to the girl in the hot pink dress, who was looking a little more disheveled as the night had gone on (truth be told, I probably was too).  She nodded, and I took that silent communication to mean that the car was on its way. 

“Let’s go out through the back,” Tanner said, leading me down an empty hallway, away from the vibrating music and pulsing lights.  I felt my shoulders relax for the first time since we’d walked in the door—maybe clubbing just wasn’t my thing.

We walked down a maze of hallways and staircases, so many that I wondered how many times Tanner had done this before, since he seemed to know the way by heart.  I imagined him sneaking girls out from the floor of the club into his waiting limo, weekend after weekend, and tried to push the thought out of my mind.

There must have been a secret valet parking lot somewhere underneath the club, because by the time we made it to the street, the limo was waiting for us, the same driver
from earlier in the night opening the door for me.

I slid into the farthest seat and immediately kicked off my heels, my feet already paying
the price of a night in strappy, barely-there sandals.

Tanner slipped in behind me, taking the seat next to me and pulling my legs into his lap. 

“Careful,” I warned him.  “I’m painfully ticklish.”

He grinned.  “Is that a challenge?”

“Don’t.  You.  Dare.”

He slid one finger gently over the palm of my foot, and I jerked away so suddenly that I almost kicked him in the shoulder. 

“Snow,” he whispered, a mix of curiosity and flirtation.  “You have a weakness.”

“I have plenty of weaknesses,” I said, struggling to get my other foot away from where he’d gripped it with
deft fingers.  “They’re just not usually—so—”

My breath was
suddenly shallow, trying to get Tanner’s curious hands away from my feet, and I couldn’t even imagine what the driver thought we were doing.  Finally, realizing that his grip was too strong, I lay still.

“Fine,” I said, pouting.  “I give in.  Let me go.”

Tanner’s grin was playfully evil.  “But what do
I
get out of letting you go?”

I felt myself blushing.  “Eternal gratitude and affection?” I squeaked.

His free hand traced the slope of my calf, pausing at my knee.  “And?”

I was glad it was dark in the limo, because my neck and cheeks were bright red.  It suddenly felt like the car was burning up.

“I can probably figure out something you’ll prefer,” I lilted, my voice playful and clear, sounding as confident and flirty I’d ever heard myself.  “But you’ll never know if you don’t…”

Tanner grinned, releasing my feet instantly.  “Now what was that—”

“Z Hotel,” the driver pulled to a stop and called the destination to us through the intercom.  I exhaled as the tension in the backseat seemed to dissipate.

Tanner glanced over at me, his look unreadable.  “You
sure you don’t want to come back to my place?”

I leaned over, and gently kissed his lips.  “
Yes, Tanner.  I’m sure.  Not tonight.”

His smile was a little dazed as I slid to the other side of the limo and opened the door.

“So,” he said, and suddenly the cocky grin was back.  “Raincheck, then?”

I looked down at the ground, smiling,
still feeling little flutters in my stomach.  “Good night, Tanner Cole.”

“Good night, Casey Snow.”

And then, before I could change my mind, I slid back into my heels and walked into the hotel, not even letting myself glance backwards.

Chapter Forty-Three

It was a good thing I hadn’t invited Tanner up for a nightcap, because I was asleep the second my head hit the hotel’s pillow.  One a.m. in Los Angeles meant that I’d stayed out till four a.m. in New York time, which was past my bedtime by about a day and a half.

Fortunately, the jet lag worked in my favor the next morning, and I was up and showered and drinking room service coffee by the time Lauren
pulled up at the hotel to bring me to the photoshoot.  Thanks to her instructions the night before, I hadn’t put on any makeup or styled my hair, and I was wearing jean shorts from the box of preview designs they’d sent me a few weeks before.

We drove about a mile to the location for the shoot, a grey industrial building on a quiet street.

“You’re going to do great, Case,” Lauren said as we walked inside.  Pulling off her sunglasses, she winced at the room’s light. 

“Fun night?” I asked her, teasing.

“Insane.  You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“Then you can totally tell me, right?  I promise not to believe a word of it.”

Lauren grinned.  “Sure, but then how would you know I’m keeping your secrets, if I start blurting someone else’s?  Trust is a fickle thing, Case.”

I winced.  It was just what Blake had said to me a few weeks before.

“So I heard you and Tanner had fun last night?” Lauren said, needling me with her shoulder.  “Come on, let’s get you into hair and makeup, and you can tell me all about it.”

I grinned.  “If I say there’s nothing to tell, you won’t believe me for a second, will you?”

“Well, given that I’ve already seen the photos of him sticking his tongue down your throat as the ball dropped…”

I blushed
.  “He wasn’t… well, ok, I guess he was.  But, um, it was… sweet.”

Lauren
gave me a gentle smile as I sat in a folding chair and let the hairstylist go to work making beachy, California waves.  “I’m not surprised,” she said, leaning back against the table where the makeup artist had set up his tools.  “Tanner’s pretty much an open book where you’re concerned.”

I looked at her curiously.  “But… why?  Last I heard he was dating Emma Harris, right?  What could he possibly see in me?”

The look Lauren gave me was a little sympathetic.  “Casey, what did Blake see in you?  You’re beautiful, you’re sweet, you’re smart, you’re fun to be around.  Everyone likes you.  You’re completely authentic in a world that’s anything but.”

I stared at her for a second, letting the words sink in.  It was one of the nicest things that anyone had ever said to me.

And she was right—it was exactly why
Blake
had fallen in love with me.

But Tanner?  By the time he’d met me, I was already something else. 

I was still Casey Snow, sure.  But Blake had met this shy little high school senior who’d stared at his albums and his interviews for two years of high school, who knew the lyrics to every single one of his songs. 

Tanner?  Tanner had met a rock star’s girlfriend,
a sometimes model, someone who flew back and forth from Los Angeles every two weeks and did red carpets on weeknights.

They were both Casey Snow.  But they were completely opposite people.

Lauren seemed to sense that she’d hit a landmine, and deftly turned the conversation towards lighter topics. 

“You’re so lucky they’re shooting this in L.A.,” she grinned.  “You wouldn’t believe how many campaigns we’ve shot for spring clothes in the dead of winter.  Sometimes we have to photoshop out the snow on the ground, and the poor model is still walking around in a bikini.”

“Remind me to push for weather control in all future contracts,” I grinned.  “Today is perfect though.”

It really was.  We were shooting part of the campaign in the studio, for the promo ads, but we were also doing a lookbook that would be shot on the streets of L.A.
— so the balmy, seventy-five degree weather would look completely perfect.

“So, Case
—” Lauren started, like she was just bringing up a topic she was curious about.  “Did you give any thought to, um, what you’re going to do next?”

I looked at her, hoping that my face didn’t show all
my uncertainty.  “I’m meeting with Tanner’s agent tomorrow morning,” I said slowly.  “I don’t know what they want from me, but I get that I can’t do this part alone.”

Lauren looked relieved.  “That’s perfect,” she said, squeezing my shoulder.  “You know I want to help you as much as I can, but there’s really only so much I can do.”  She grinned.  “This is the next step.  You’ll be great.”

I thought about a few weeks before, when Tanner’s response had been, ‘they’re gonna eat you alive.’

“Casey, can we have you do a few light tests?”  The photographer’s British accent put a quick end to our conversation.  The hairstylist released the curling iron, only halfway th
rough with my hair, and I walked over onto the set.  Four giant lights the size of my parents’ washing machine shined down on me. 

“There, love, can you just sit in the chair?”  The photographer asked me, adjusting the settings on his camera.  “Lean back?
” 
Click.
  “Ok, now stand up?”

I went through the motions until they were satisfied, dutifully sitting and standing and kneeling and moving from the front of the set to the back, until every shadow had been conquered, every inch in focus. 

“Thanks, hon,” the photographer said, gesturing that I could go back to hair and makeup.  “Oh, and hey?  We have a stereo over there — feel free to put on anything that’ll loosen you up, okay?  We want this to be as easy for you as possible.”

I walked over to the stereo, and glanced down at my
phone.  Without a second glance, I picked a song.

An instant later, Blake’s rolling guitar filled the room, Sophie’s drums and April’s perfect, melodic whimper kicking in a few seconds later. 
But all I could hear was the guitar.

It was Moving Neutral’s first album.

It’s kind of like he’s here
, I thought to myself. 

Except it wasn’t like that at all.