Ritual - Palm South University

From the corner of the room, Karen, the studio owner and my own personal torturer — er, trainer — applauds.

“Fantastic work, Ashlei,” she says, leaning over and extending a hand to help me up. When I’m on my feet again, she smiles wider. “Truly. I’m amazed at the progress you’ve made since you first came to our studio.”

“All thanks to you,” I pant.

She shakes her head. “No way. This is all you. You worked hard over the summer. Hard to believe you’re the same girl who stumbled her way through basic spins and sits the first time you walked through those doors on Valentine’s Day.”

I smile, thanking her before she winks and makes her way over to the desk to welcome the girls showing up for her next class.

Karen is nothing like my previous pole studio owner.

She’s kind, and caring, and driven and smart. At five-foot-eight, she’s almost all beautiful legs and strong, toned arms. I watch her with appreciation as she checks girls in, her wide smile bright against her dark brown skin. Her long, black hair is in a hundred tiny braids and piled into a gorgeous bun on top of her head, all of it contained by a bright headband.

It’s as if the yellows and oranges in that headband are her aura, her energy, that bright, sunshine vibe she always gives off.

My muscles are deliciously sore as I throw her a wave over my shoulder on my way out, smiling and thinking about everything she said about my progress. It feels good, the reward slowly showing from all the hard work I’ve been putting in.

And that smile doubles when I push through the doors that lead onto the sunny downtown street, and I see Brandon’s pearl white Acura NSX parked on the curb.

The driver side door opens as soon as I’m on the sidewalk, and he steps out, looking dapper as ever in a custom beige suit, tailored to fit every muscle. His eyes are shielded behind dark square sunglasses, but he takes them off as he rounds the car, opening the passenger side for me with a grin.

“Your chariot, Miss.”

I shake my head, handing him my gym bag when he reaches for it before I plant a long, warm kiss on his lips. He wraps his arms around me, inhaling at the contact as if it were his first breath all day.

“Hi, baby,” I whisper.

“Hi,” he says back, kissing my nose before he releases me. “I missed you.”

“Clearly. I don’t remember asking you to pick me up,” I point out. “Or making plans at all today.”

“Yeah… about that… get in, let’s talk.”

I cock a brow, sliding into the passenger seat before he gently shuts the door behind me. He walks around the back, tossing my bag in the small trunk before he’s in the driver seat next to me, roaring the engine to life.

“Do you have pole tomorrow?” he asks, checking his side mirror before he pulls onto the road.

“No, I need a rest day.”

“And it’s Sunday, so you wouldn’t have class, right?”

My suspicion rises. “No… but I do have Chapter at six.”

“Chapter…” he muses, side-eyeing me with a grin. “Damn sorority.”

I smack his arm playfully.

“Do you think you could skip it, just this once?”

“Probably not without a death threat from Ex,” I say seriously. “But… what are you proposing?”

We pull up to a red light, and Brandon bites his lip before turning to me. “The Bahamas.”

“The Bahamas?!”

“The Exumas, technically.”

“The Exumas,” I repeat, sounding like a freaking parrot at this point. “You’re proposing we go to the Exumas tonight,” I clarify. “As in… the place where you swim with pigs.”

“I was thinking more like the place where I fuck you on my yacht and drink fruity cocktails out of coconuts with you on the beach,” he says on a smirk, and the light turns green, making him turn back to the road with a shrug. “But if you’d rather swim with pigs…”

I laugh, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it. I’m tempted to say We can’t just go to the fucking Bahamas, Brandon, but I know that’s a lie.

He has a yacht.

And more money than he knows how to spend.

Technically, we can go to the Bahamas.

I’m quiet for a long while, and Brandon glances at me from the corner of his eye before pulling into a random restaurant parking lot. It’s a Mexican diner, not even open yet, since it’s only ten in the morning. When he’s parked, he turns to me, grabbing my hands and pulling them into his lap.

“Look, we’ve both been busy this summer — you with your exec position in the sorority, and pole… me with this national client we’re in the bidding war for… both of us working hard at Okay, Cool after everything that went down in the spring with Kim… and now, school is back in session, it’s the last semester before you graduate, we’re both hard at work, and I just…”