Zoe
“So? How excited are you to try this?” Keely asks as we walk into the fitness center.
She left out an important detail when she was begging me to come to this class. She forgot to mention the poles—stripper poles. “I’m not doing this. There’s no way I can dance like a hooker. Plus, I don’t want another trip to the doctor if I fall and hit my nose.”
“It’s not like that. It’s sensual. It’s sexy. It’s an art.”
“You’re a trained dancer, Keely. I tap danced myself right to the emergency room when we were ten.”
“This is different. There’s no stage to fall off of.”
“There’s a pole.”
“You won’t fall. And just think, once you get in touch with your feminine side, you’ll be able to dance for Dylan and he’ll lose his mind.”
I toss my bag in the corner, taking another look at the floor-to-ceiling poles. Though mine appears sturdy, there’s no guarantee it’ll hold my weight. “There might not be a next time.”
Keely stretches her arms over her head, so I follow. “Why the hell not? If Dylan makes you happy, you should be with him.”
“It’s so weird,” I tell her. “We survived all those years without crossing a single line. Now I could throw up when I see him.”
My sister’s smile stretches from one cheek to the other. “You have arrived, sister of mine. Welcome to the dark side where your body and your mind are in a constant battle. My advice to you, let your body win. It’s so much better that way.”
“Dating my best friend is a recipe for disaster. I have to be stupid for even considering it.”
She takes my hand and traces the lifeline that stretches the length of my palm. “Dylan’s in love with you, Zoe. Like deeply, madly in love.”
“Are you reading my palm?”
“No, I’m just telling you it’s the real thing.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. She’s right. Even when I was awkward and saying stupid things, he was so patient and kind. “I slept in his bed last night. We cuddled and it was nice.”
“See, Dylan wasn’t like that with me. He’s different around you.”
Her words are sobering, like a cold bucket of water dumped over my head. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to rub it in. I honestly had no idea he wanted me.”
“It’s okay. I promise I’m over it.” She says she’s okay, but she’s picking at her nail polish. The polish she keeps perfectly manicured. I hate that someone I care about so much is responsible for hurting my sister.
As easily as she brushed him off when he broke up with her, I know she was hoping he was the one. That she finally found someone worthy of her time. Someone who wanted more than her body.
“You’re not second best, Keely. Not with Dylan and not with Dad. You’re you and I’m me.”
“You’re the brains and I’m the fun,” she says.
“No, Keely. You’re so much more than that. And you’ll find someone, too.”
“I’m not worried about it. I’m having fun with Chaz. Some people are meant to be and others aren’t. That’s all.”
“Right. Plus, we have bigger problems to worry about.”
“Like your ass swinging around this pole.”
“Can’t I watch? I’m a great observer.”
“Once you see what it’s like to fly, I promise you’ll be as addicted to the pole as I am.”
“That sounds so dirty,” I tell her. “Just don’t break my vagina again.”
By the time the room fills and class begins, I’m petrified. The others seem born to do this. Any one of them could get a job on stage and make a killing—even though that’s not what this is about.
The instructor modifies movements for the beginners, but I can barely get my butt off the floor. My arms ache and my skin burns when I neither glide nor coast around the aluminum rod. I chug along with too much hitch in my giddy up.
When we move onto trickier skills, I turn into a stale piece of licorice, nothing like the fluid goddesses around me.
“You’re doing great, Zoe. My first time sucked, too. Be you and it will get easier.” Mid-conversation, Keely flips upside down. Her abs contract as she spreads her legs into a full inverted split.
“Be me? You remember who I am, right?”
The hell with this.
I plop down on the floor while she blows my mind with her strength. There’s no way she ever sucked at pole dancing.
The class ends fifteen minutes later and I accept that my sexy is broken. Where’s Timberlake when you need him?
Keely’s so hyped up, she doesn’t even care I sat out at the end. And she takes me home without mention of a party or another shopping adventure. For once, my attempt was good enough for her, and I feel like swinging around that pole somehow brought us closer.
Dylan’s still dressed the same—shirtless with sweats hanging low on his hips. Leaning against the counter, he doesn’t hear me, so I take a minute to stare at my new guilty pleasure. Unable to take my eyes off his broad shoulders and toned biceps, I never realized how hot my best friend really is. I slept with that.
“Are you gonna come over here or stand there and gawk?” he asks with a knowing smirk on his face.
Busted. “Sorry.”
He walks toward me, never once taking his eyes off mine. The look alone scrambles all the butterflies in my stomach.
“I told you it’s okay to look, Zo. How was class?”
I snort as I hold my arms out. The pole burns are proof of just how horrible I did. “I sucked. No surprise there.”
He takes my arm, running his fingers over the red marks. “What kind of exercise was this? Your skin looks painful.”
“Pole dancing,” I tell him, prepared for the laugh fest that’s sure to follow.
Only Dylan doesn’t laugh.
Not even a chuckle.
He stops moving, maybe even breathing.
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack. Keely’s practically a stripper now, and she’d make a fortune.”
“No shit,” he says in awe.
For once I wish I was my sister, so he’d look at me with that much appreciation. “Probably makes you wish you didn’t break up with her, right?”
Dylan jerks me closer until our mouths are inches apart. His warm breath tickles my cheek. “No, Zoe. I’m disappointed I missed you dancing. Because that mental picture is pretty fuckin’ hot.”
“Keely said you’d like it.”
“Will you dance for me sometime, Zo?”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever go back, but if I do, I’ll try to learn something worth showing.”
“Fuck, that’s sexy,” he says with a little shake of his head.
“Keely also knows we slept together. She overheard our phone conversation at Chaz’s house.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing? You don’t look like you’re freaking out.”
“After we had sex, I wanted to tell someone, just because it’s a big deal. But the more I thought about it, I wanted it to stay between you and me. I don’t think I was ready to tell her, but it happened all on its own.”
“No matter who you tell, that night will always be ours. Nobody can take that away from us.”
“She was okay with it,” I tell him as the microwave dings.
“Even if she wasn’t, we can’t take it back.”
“I don’t want to take it back.”
Smiling, he kisses the top of my head and tucks me under his chin. It’s like my own personal Dylan cocoon. “God, Zo. I’ve wanted to hear that for so long.”
With my arms wrapped around his back, I tilt my head to see his face. “Your food’s getting cold.”
“Eh,” he says as he holds me closer. “Soup can wait. You taste better.”
I grab a spoon off the counter and hold it up in the air. Laughing, he lets go of me when my stomach grumbles against his.
After he pulls the bowl out of the microwave, he sets it on the table and grabs another spoon. This one he keeps for himself.
“Go ahead,” he says when I eye the dish and lick my lips.
I dip my spoon into the warm potato soup, moaning at the buttery goodness. “I’m a good cook.”
“More eating, less moaning,” he says with another shake of his head.
“Sorry.” He lets me eat half his lunch when I could get up and make my own. A few times our spoons knock against each other’s and we laugh, but he always lets me go ahead of him for another taste. Being so close isn’t awkward. For the first time in days, I’m not as nervous around Dylan.
When we’ve finished lunch, I head straight to the shower. The entire time I’m washing my hair, I wonder what it would be like to shower with Dylan. At first, I’m into it, but then I laugh because nothing about showering with me and my loofah would be hot. I’m not the kind of girl who flaunts what she has, but maybe Keely’s right. Maybe she can help me get sexier. I did ride a metal pole for an hour.
I find the sexiest panties and bra I own and put them on. The reflection of the four post bed in the mirror gives me an idea. Practice makes perfect, so I try a few moves I learned in class, hoping I’m not as pathetic as I think I am. The mirror above the dresser is at just the right height to watch myself swing around the bedpost. I even point my toes like I was taught.
Swinging is harder with the mattress in the way, but I jump a little higher and try again. I do it twice more until I make an entire circle that doesn’t look half bad. Now that I’ve mastered a simple swing, I tilt my head back, letting the wet strands of my hair fly behind me. Lifting with all my might, I raise my legs into a quick scissor kick.
That’s the last thing I remember before the bedpost snaps in half, sending me flying into the ironing board and off the closet door. I end up wedged between the board and the door with the metal bolts scraping against my shins.
The force of hitting the closet knocked the sliding door off the track.
For a second I worry I peed myself upon impact, but then I realize the fish bowl fell off the bedside table, and I’m sitting in a puddle. My poor beta fish flops around beside me, and I do the only thing I can. I yell for help.
I may die of embarrassment, but I’m stuck. And no amount of wiggling will set me free.