Moving in Reverse (16 page)

My legs were shaking, and
I wasn’t sure if I was angry or nervous or terrified. I’d known
that Blake would eventually be replaced, but the fact that I’d
taken Tanner to his dorm room?
Helped
him? It was too much — my
head was spinning. I had to get out.

I stood up, rushing to the door of the
restaurant, trying to ignore the fact that my legs were shaking so
hard I could barely stand. I gripped the thick oak of the front
door and pushed it open, all thoughts on getting to Blake’s car and
getting as far away from Tanner and April as I possibly
could.

The flashbulbs stopped me in my tracks
the second I opened the door. Squinting, I tried to see where I was
going through the pop-pop-pop of blinding white light from the
photographers in the parking lot. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t stand
— my legs were still shaking with anger or fear or betrayal. I
blinked, and took a step forward, trying to stop the lights from
blinding me.

And then suddenly my legs weren’t just
shaking, they were falling. My step had put me over the
restaurant’s small entryway and down a stair I hadn’t noticed, and
all of a sudden, I was falling, about to fall flat on my face in
front of every tabloid magazine in Los Angeles.

Faint
, I tried to command myself,
just
faint.
A few minutes of unconsciousness
would be welcome at this point.

My body lurched forward and I threw my
hands in front of me to protect my face from the gravel. I felt
myself pitch forward.

And then there was an arm around my
waist, stopping my fall.

I didn’t look up — I already knew who
it was, and I didn’t want to have to look like I was
grateful.

“
Come on, Snow,” Tanner
whispered gently, holding me up until I could catch my balance.
“I’ll drive you home.”

I could have thought of a thousand
things to say — a thousand ways to say no, to yell and scream at
him until he went running back to April, but all I wanted was to
get away from the flashing lights and photographers.

And as much as I didn’t want to be, I
was grateful he’d stopped me from falling on my face.

I just nodded. Handed him Blake’s
keys. Let him put his arm around me as he led me to the parking
lot. I tried my best to shield my face from the paparazzi with my
hand.

And it was only when I got to Blake’s
car, eased myself into the passenger seat and felt something hard
between me and the soft leather, did I remember the microphone
still hooked to the back of my bra.

I’d just filmed my first reality show,
I thought to myself, and bit my lip to keep from crying.

Tanner pulled over when we were a few
blocks from the restaurant — thankfully, none of the photographers
followed us, probably all clamoring for photos of April as she
left. He pulled into a parking space in a random strip mall and
turned off the car.

“
Tanner—” I started,
wanting to let him know that nothing he said now could fix any of
this, but he held a finger to his lips.

“
Shhh,” he whispered,
almost inaudibly, and motioned with his fingers for me to turn
around.

I complied, and almost balked when he
slid his fingers up the back of my shirt, but to my relief, he
disconnected the microphone deftly and pulled it away from my skin.
He did the same thing behind his own back (he was apparently much
more practiced at this than I was), and, with both microphones in
one hand, climbed out of the car. I heard the trunk open and then
close, and guessed he’d found a way to have a private
conversation.

Not that it changed anything. My
feelings about Tanner Cole at this point were the same, microphones
or not.

He got back in the car and closed the
door, looking at me with a nervous expression. “I feel like I
should explain,” he started, but didn’t look like he knew where to
go from there.

My body was tense and on guard, and I
wasn’t sure what he could say to make any of this any better. I
felt my feet push down into the floorboards of Blake’s car
involuntarily.

“
You don’t owe me
anything,” I said, trying to make it come off unaffected. Why was
it that everyone else could act like they didn’t care about
anything on a regular basis, but any time I got involved in a
serious conversation, it ended in tears?

“
Snow,” Tanner said,
holding an arm up as if he was going to take my hand, and then
thinking better of it. He settled into fumbling with the radio, on
low volume. “I just — I’m not part of all this, you know? A month
ago, my agent called me about an audition for a guitarist — he
didn’t tell me what band. I went in, and it was April and Sophie
and, like, half the guys at their record label, and I played a few
songs.” He paused. “My old band was great, but they weren’t going
any further. This is a huge opportunity for me.”

Tanner’s lips started to curl up like
even the memory was exciting to him. I couldn’t really blame him
for it — this was every musician’s dream, right? Just not at the
cost of replacing my boyfriend.

“
Why are you telling me
this?”

Tanner’s eyes darkened. “I just wanted
to explain. I only signed on with the band last week — that’s why I
went up to your campus, remember?” A sly grin slipped out. “See? I
wasn’t stalking you after all.”

I repressed a smile. “Right,” I
quipped. “You were stalking my boyfriend. That’s way less
creepy.”

I felt the tension in my body start to
ebb. Tanner’s situation wasn’t that far off from mine — we were
stuck in the middle of this mess, both of us trying not to hurt
anyone. At least, I hoped so.

“
If I’d known you were
coming to lunch, I would have told you to sprint in the other
direction,” Tanner sighed, leaning his head back against the car
seat. “What on earth convinced you it would be a good idea to show
up on reality TV with someone who hates your guts?”

I gave a sheepish smile. It was pretty
stupid. “I was trying to help Blake,” I said quietly. “I was
hoping, maybe, now that all of this is over, he and Sophie and
Jesse could be friends again. Maybe even April.” I sighed. “I don’t
know. Every time I try to help, Blake’s life seems to fall apart a
little bit more.”

Tanner wrinkled his brows. “What do
you mean, fall apart? He’s at one of the best schools on earth. The
record industry will always be there. He could put out a solo album
right now, I bet, if he wanted to. The labels don’t care about all
this personal shit — they just want music that sells. Blake could
do that in his sleep.”

I smiled a little bit, listening to
Tanner. I didn’t know whether or not it was true, I didn’t even
know whether Blake would want it, but at least there was a door
that hadn’t slammed shut. Maybe.

Tanner looked me over, his eyes
lingering a little too long. “And he has you,” Tanner said,
shrugging it off like an afterthought. I felt myself
blush.

“
You should probably take
me home,” I said quietly, trying not to smile. He looked like he
wanted to say something else, but he shifted the car into gear and
we drove the ten or so minutes to Blake’s house in
silence.

Tanner was turning the car onto
Blake’s street when I lurched up and grabbed his hand.

“
Wait—” I hissed. “Stop
the car.”

I sat in the seat for a
second, collecting my thoughts. Glancing at the dashboard, it was
1:30 already. Blake thought I’d been out shopping for two hours,
and I didn’t have a single bag. And I could
not
have Tanner Cole, Moving
Neutral’s newest guitarist, show up on Blake’s doorstep.

“
Ok,” I said, trying to
sound authoritative as Tanner looked at me with an amused
expression. “I need to go buy some clothes. And fast. And then I
have to get rid of you.”

He burst out laughing. “You sure know
how to treat a guy. You make me feel so special, Snow.”

I rolled my eyes. “I told
Blake I was going shopping. I can’t exactly show up empty handed
with
you
in the
car, now can I?”

Tanner grinned again. “You
don’t have to say
you
like I’m some cockroach. I did just save you from falling
down a flight of stairs in front of every tabloid in the
States.”

I gave him a half smile. “That,” I
chirped sweetly, “is why I’ve decided to give you a ride. You’re
lucky I didn’t make you walk.”

Chapter
Twenty-Two

On Tanner’s advice, we picked an
outdoor shopping center that wouldn’t be swarmed with paparazzi,
where there was enough foot traffic that we’d be relatively
inconspicuous. After everything we’d already been through, the last
thing I wanted to deal with was some photographer whipping a zoom
lens out of a fake baby carriage.

Tanner bought us both coffees, since
I’d abandoned mine untouched at the restaurant. He didn’t seem to
be in any rush to leave, and so long as we weren’t getting mobbed
by cameras, I didn’t mind him sticking around.

“
Where to?” he asked me,
gesturing down towards a less crowded area that held a few stores I
recognized. “With the world at Casey Snow’s fingers, what does she
pick?” He paused, his eyes twinkling. “Or where does she shop, at
least?”

I blinked up at him, a little blinded
by the California sun.

“
I don’t know,” I said
honestly. “Before last summer, my choices were mostly Ann Taylor
and J. Crew, and I don’t think either of those works for Blake
Parker’s girlfriend.”

Tanner smiled gently. “From what I
hear,” he said softly, “Blake didn’t pick you for your ability to
rock a pleather dress and stripper heels. But if you want to go
that route, I’m happy to help with the zippers.” He raised an
eyebrow suggestively. “Up or down.”

I shook my head, exasperated. “Could
we find something in between kindergarten teacher and professional
sex worker, maybe?”

Tanner snorted. “Unlikely. Los Angeles
tends to be one or the other,” he grinned. “But don’t worry, Snow.
I have an idea.”

Starting to move in the direction of
one store, Tanner reached out to take my hand, and I pulled it away
just at the moment his palm brushed the underside of my wrist. He
shot me a half-apologetic look, and I let it slide with a raised
eyebrow.

Following Tanner a step behind, he led
me down a side street to the door a small boutique stuffed full of
clothes and jewelry.

“
You like vintage?” He
asked me, pulling open the door.

I nodded, smiling. “Vintage” in
Rockland, Connecticut, tended to mean the racks at the Salvation
Army—which were mostly sweat-stained men’s undershirts and
discarded bridesmaid dresses. I had a feeling this store would be a
little different.

The store wasn’t crowded, but every
available space was full of items for sale – I felt myself get a
little giddy as I passed racks of seventies-style Diane von
Furstenburg wrap dresses and barely worn YSL platform
heels.

“
How about this?” He held
up a soft cotton Rolling Stones shirt, that someone had obviously
taken great care of for a few decades. I thought about the person
who’d bought it in the first place—at a concert in the sixties,
maybe. I tried to imagine the girl who loved Mick Jagger or Keith
Richards the same way I loved Blake Parker, before I even met him.
The shirt was big on me, but I tied the waist into a knot over my
tanktop.

I grinned. “I love it.”

Tanner reached behind me to tuck the
tag into the top of the shirt, his fingers brushing delicately over
my neck. I stiffened.

“
Tanner—”

It seemed like Tanner Cole would be
the last person on earth I’d need to explain the ‘I have a
boyfriend’ situation to. But apparently he was ignoring the
memo.

He leaned closer to me with a
conspiratorial wink. “Relax, Snow,” he said, his voice low and
intimate. “I’ll behave.”

Somehow I doubted that.

I changed the subject.

“
How’d you find this
place, anyways?”

His eyes darkened for a second, and I
wasn’t sure why, but he took his hand off the back of my neck,
finally.

“
I dated a girl who grew
up in L.A.—she loved places like this. There are a bunch of little
hole-in-the-wall shops, costume designers sometimes scour them for
show wardrobes.”

“
I can see why,” I said,
holding up a gorgeous sixties-style minidress – a far cry from the
fuchsia taffeta bridesmaid dresses I usually found in the
‘formalwear’ section at Goodwill. “What happened to the
girl?”

Tanner was suddenly focused on a price
tag on a men’s shirt, not looking at me. “Not much. We met at
boarding school, New England. She graduated, I joined Teacher’s
Pet.” He shrugged. “Just didn’t work out.”

I thought about all the tabloid rumors
about Blake and April dating, before I had come into the picture.
“Mysterious single guitarist more interesting for the
media?”