The Rocker That Loves Me
Page 2
It was still early but I was sure that Drake was up and getting ready for work by now. I wasn’t ready to see him again. He would just grill me about Lana and what we had done the day before and what she was doing today. That would just depress us both, and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to add depression to my list of emotions today.
Pulling my iPhone from the strap attached to my upper arm, I brought up Lana’s picture and sent her a quick text. Bored! Where did you say that gym was?
I had walked more than two blocks before she responded with the address of the gym that she went to and her roommate worked at. Sighing, I turned my Red Sox cap around and reattached my phone to my arm before turning around. I was going to get a week’s worth of exercise in one day.
The guy at the front desk gave me an overly fake friendly smile as I walked through the door. In my tattered baseball cap, worn basketball shorts, and holey T-shirt, I looked like I had about five bucks to my name. From the looks of the place, it didn’t cater to the underprivileged.
I liked being comfortable when I ran and didn’t give a shit how I looked. If I was doing anything other than exercising, then I made sure I looked good. Emmie and the guys gave me hell over it, but I liked the feel of designer clothes against my skin almost as much as I liked being behind the wheel of a car with some power.
“Can I help you?” Fake Guy behind the counter asked when I just stood there glancing around. From where I was standing I could see the weight room on the second floor, with the treadmills and other cardio equipment to the left of it. The gear I spotted was expensive stuff, and the guys lifting were major body builders.
I pulled out my wallet from the pocket of my shorts and handed over my California driver’s license and my Visa. “A friend of mine recommended this place to me,” I told the guy. “I’d like to start up a membership.”
He took my card and license, frowning when he saw my name. His head shot up and the smile wasn’t so fake this time. “Mr. Stevenson, welcome to Fit for Life.” He pointed to his name tag like I couldn’t see it. “My name is Geoff. I just need you to fill out these papers while I run your card.”
I took the stack of papers attached to a clipboard and filled them out, cursing when I realized that half the things on the forms I had no clue how to answer. Emmie knew most of that crap so I didn’t have to worry about it. I grimaced, missing Emmie more and more as the days went on.
Emmie was my rock and now I was three thousand miles away from her. For the first time in my life, I was homesick, which didn’t make sense when you thought about it. I hadn’t even had a real home until last year when we had all settled down in Malibu. But Emmie was my home…
I left most of the pages blank, figuring the gym didn’t need to know every little thing for them to give me a membership anyway. Geoff gave me my card and license back, along with a keychain card that acted as my pass to get into the gym itself.
“If there is anything you need just let me know. If you want to use our personal trainers they will be wearing blue T-shirts. It’s one-fifty for the first session and two hundred after that. Just tell them to bill your account.”
I headed straight for the weights upstairs. I had some decent muscles, but nothing like the Hulk-wannabes that were pumping iron like their life depended on it. Veins stuck out from all angles on their spray tanned bodies. As they increased the number of curls they did, the funnier their facial expressions were.
When I was done lifting weights—okay, when I was done people watching—I headed for the treadmills and other cardio equipment. Turning my baseball cap around, I picked up a towel and headed for an empty treadmill at the back of the room. The cardio room was full of more females than males, and I let my eyes wonder as I walked.
There was a cute brunette on a stair-climber who seemed more interested in the early morning talk show playing on the flatscreen television than what was going on around her. Two blondes on bikes were talking about the hair appointments they both had later in the day. The redhead behind them was listening intently as if she was being nosy. All of them were hot, but none of them kept my attention for more than a second.
Sighing, I hopped onto the treadmill beside an older woman with shaved brown hair and some serious muscles that really freaked me out since she was so small. She glanced over at me, nodded her head politely but otherwise didn’t give me a second thought. Dressed like I was, it was hard to tell who I was. I also knew that in New York things were calmer than LA when it came to crazy fans.
I pulled my phone off my armband, scrolled through my playlists, and hit play. I had a weird list that included everything from country and pop to metal and techno. I hit the quick start button and turned up the speed so that I was going at a steady pace.
Twenty minutes into my run I got a picture text from Lucy. It was a picture of her and the iguana that Drake had gotten into trouble over getting it for her. Of course Jesse was in the background making a funny face at the huge lizard. Since he couldn’t seem to stand the pet, I wondered how he would react if Lucy got her wish and got a snake like she had been asking for. Jesse wasn’t exactly a reptile lover.
I slowed down enough to send her a reply. As I finished and hit send, I noticed that the elliptical in front of me had a new occupant. My eyes were immediately drawn to the tightness of her thighs and ass. My mind shut down for half a second, and I had to act quickly or I would have fallen off the damn treadmill.
I hit stop and just stood there, watching female perfection as she mastered the piece of workout equipment. Her legs looked as if they went on forever. Her calves were bare and I noticed a hint of a honey tan to them. I wondered if she was tan all over or if she would have lines from her bikini. My dick twitched at the idea of finding out.
Realizing that I was starting to drool, I closed my mouth and shifted my gaze higher. Her waist was narrow, almost nonexistent. The top she wore clung to her back, and I could see the outline of her sports bra. I couldn’t see any tan lines on her shoulders, and of course my dick liked that. Her neck was long, graceful, and exposed with her caramel hair pulled into a ponytail.
As she moved on the elliptical, I saw a tiny tattoo at the base of her neck but couldn’t make out what it was. I wanted—needed—a closer look.
Wiping my face with my towel, I jumped off the treadmill and ducked between mine and the scary muscle chick to get to the elliptical next to the hottie. As I stepped onto it she glanced over at me and slowed her pace. She reached for her towel just as I realized who she was.
Pulling my iPhone from the strap attached to my upper arm, I brought up Lana’s picture and sent her a quick text. Bored! Where did you say that gym was?
I had walked more than two blocks before she responded with the address of the gym that she went to and her roommate worked at. Sighing, I turned my Red Sox cap around and reattached my phone to my arm before turning around. I was going to get a week’s worth of exercise in one day.
The guy at the front desk gave me an overly fake friendly smile as I walked through the door. In my tattered baseball cap, worn basketball shorts, and holey T-shirt, I looked like I had about five bucks to my name. From the looks of the place, it didn’t cater to the underprivileged.
I liked being comfortable when I ran and didn’t give a shit how I looked. If I was doing anything other than exercising, then I made sure I looked good. Emmie and the guys gave me hell over it, but I liked the feel of designer clothes against my skin almost as much as I liked being behind the wheel of a car with some power.
“Can I help you?” Fake Guy behind the counter asked when I just stood there glancing around. From where I was standing I could see the weight room on the second floor, with the treadmills and other cardio equipment to the left of it. The gear I spotted was expensive stuff, and the guys lifting were major body builders.
I pulled out my wallet from the pocket of my shorts and handed over my California driver’s license and my Visa. “A friend of mine recommended this place to me,” I told the guy. “I’d like to start up a membership.”
He took my card and license, frowning when he saw my name. His head shot up and the smile wasn’t so fake this time. “Mr. Stevenson, welcome to Fit for Life.” He pointed to his name tag like I couldn’t see it. “My name is Geoff. I just need you to fill out these papers while I run your card.”
I took the stack of papers attached to a clipboard and filled them out, cursing when I realized that half the things on the forms I had no clue how to answer. Emmie knew most of that crap so I didn’t have to worry about it. I grimaced, missing Emmie more and more as the days went on.
Emmie was my rock and now I was three thousand miles away from her. For the first time in my life, I was homesick, which didn’t make sense when you thought about it. I hadn’t even had a real home until last year when we had all settled down in Malibu. But Emmie was my home…
I left most of the pages blank, figuring the gym didn’t need to know every little thing for them to give me a membership anyway. Geoff gave me my card and license back, along with a keychain card that acted as my pass to get into the gym itself.
“If there is anything you need just let me know. If you want to use our personal trainers they will be wearing blue T-shirts. It’s one-fifty for the first session and two hundred after that. Just tell them to bill your account.”
I headed straight for the weights upstairs. I had some decent muscles, but nothing like the Hulk-wannabes that were pumping iron like their life depended on it. Veins stuck out from all angles on their spray tanned bodies. As they increased the number of curls they did, the funnier their facial expressions were.
When I was done lifting weights—okay, when I was done people watching—I headed for the treadmills and other cardio equipment. Turning my baseball cap around, I picked up a towel and headed for an empty treadmill at the back of the room. The cardio room was full of more females than males, and I let my eyes wonder as I walked.
There was a cute brunette on a stair-climber who seemed more interested in the early morning talk show playing on the flatscreen television than what was going on around her. Two blondes on bikes were talking about the hair appointments they both had later in the day. The redhead behind them was listening intently as if she was being nosy. All of them were hot, but none of them kept my attention for more than a second.
Sighing, I hopped onto the treadmill beside an older woman with shaved brown hair and some serious muscles that really freaked me out since she was so small. She glanced over at me, nodded her head politely but otherwise didn’t give me a second thought. Dressed like I was, it was hard to tell who I was. I also knew that in New York things were calmer than LA when it came to crazy fans.
I pulled my phone off my armband, scrolled through my playlists, and hit play. I had a weird list that included everything from country and pop to metal and techno. I hit the quick start button and turned up the speed so that I was going at a steady pace.
Twenty minutes into my run I got a picture text from Lucy. It was a picture of her and the iguana that Drake had gotten into trouble over getting it for her. Of course Jesse was in the background making a funny face at the huge lizard. Since he couldn’t seem to stand the pet, I wondered how he would react if Lucy got her wish and got a snake like she had been asking for. Jesse wasn’t exactly a reptile lover.
I slowed down enough to send her a reply. As I finished and hit send, I noticed that the elliptical in front of me had a new occupant. My eyes were immediately drawn to the tightness of her thighs and ass. My mind shut down for half a second, and I had to act quickly or I would have fallen off the damn treadmill.
I hit stop and just stood there, watching female perfection as she mastered the piece of workout equipment. Her legs looked as if they went on forever. Her calves were bare and I noticed a hint of a honey tan to them. I wondered if she was tan all over or if she would have lines from her bikini. My dick twitched at the idea of finding out.
Realizing that I was starting to drool, I closed my mouth and shifted my gaze higher. Her waist was narrow, almost nonexistent. The top she wore clung to her back, and I could see the outline of her sports bra. I couldn’t see any tan lines on her shoulders, and of course my dick liked that. Her neck was long, graceful, and exposed with her caramel hair pulled into a ponytail.
As she moved on the elliptical, I saw a tiny tattoo at the base of her neck but couldn’t make out what it was. I wanted—needed—a closer look.
Wiping my face with my towel, I jumped off the treadmill and ducked between mine and the scary muscle chick to get to the elliptical next to the hottie. As I stepped onto it she glanced over at me and slowed her pace. She reached for her towel just as I realized who she was.
