Hazed (Palm South University)

He nods, and then slowly, he lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me softly at first before the pressure intensifies. My legs part of their own accord, inviting him to fit more snuggly between my hips, and the more we kiss, the harder I feel him grow.

“Gavin,” I whisper.

“Mmm?”

“Will you… will you make love to me?”

Gavin pulls back, breaking from the little kisses he was planting all over my neck. The second I see all the color wash from his face, I regret my question.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “That sounded so… cheesy and… I mean, will you fuck me?”

But those words sound even worse, and I cringe as I say them, and Gavin shakes his head and immediately rolls off of me so that we can switch positions. He pulls me into his chest, holding me, wrapping me up tight.

“Okay, I know what’s going through your head. So first, let me just say do not be ashamed of what you just asked. It was hot as fuck and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you feeling desire and wanting to have sex.”

Even though I know his words are meant to soothe me, they just spark my anxiety more, and I find it harder and harder to breathe pressed against him.

“And please know, this is not me rejecting you. This is not me saying that I don’t want to lie you down in these sheets and be inside you and make you climax all fucking night, okay?” He stops when I don’t answer, maneuvering until he can pull my chin up and look me in the eyes. “Okay?”

I can’t fight the tears that well in my eyes, and I sniff and try to nod.

“I’m serious, Erin. I mean it. I wouldn’t lie to you and you know that. It’s just…” He takes a deep breath. “I know what happened to you and I know, maybe better than most, how much it can fuck you up. I’m so honored you feel comfortable with me enough to ask me to be the first man to touch you since that night. But I want to be sure, too. Okay? And right now, I really think we should stay where we are, and move slow.”

All the words he’s saying are right. They’re honest and true and kind. They’re perhaps the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, and the most respectful.

But I’d be lying if I said they didn’t hurt.

“Can I just hold you tonight? And kiss you? And eat more trashy food and stay up way past bedtime even though we both have school tomorrow?”

I chuckle, and I’m thankful the tears don’t build enough to actually fall. “Okay.”

With a sigh, he pulls me back to his chest, kissing my hair and grabbing the remote. “You’re an amazing girl, Erin Xanders.”

But as he flips through the movie options, I can’t help but feel like the scum of the earth.

BREATHE.

Don’t forget to breathe.

Smile.

Don’t forget to smile.

Squeeze.

For the love of God, don’t forget to squeeze.

Reminder after reminder pelts me like rubber bullets as I run through my competition routine one last time. Melt by Shaed blasts from the studio speakers, reverberating off the walls and filling my soul like the sweetest drug.

I’m already dripping in sweat from running the routine full out five times before — in addition to stretching and training tricks beforehand — but I’m still far from nailing everything perfectly the way I want to.

Competition is one month away, and I don’t just want to compete.

I want to medal.

I want to win.

The beat builds as I climb the pole, spinning higher and higher.

Point your toes.

Shoulders back and down.

Core engaged.

I take a deep breath as I extend my legs out in a straddle, holding the position strong before I bring my ankles together to sit with my thighs wrapped around the pole. One more breath and then I’m letting go of the pole with my hands, relying on my engaged thighs as I lean back and hang upside down.

Laybacks used to be one of the scariest pole tricks to me. But once I learned them, they quickly became my favorite. Not only are they gorgeous and flowy, but there’s so many combinations you can make out of them.

Of course, I maybe could have selected a slightly simpler one for competition.

But where’s the fun in that?

Reaching behind me, I grab for the pole, and as soon as I have it in my hands, I loosen my thigh grip until I’m holding on by my ankles, instead.

Iguana pose.

Smile, bitch, smile. Fight the pain.

On a steady breath, I remove my right hand from the pole, swinging it down below where my head hangs. Then, in what most would consider a miraculous feat, I free my shoulder from the pole and twist my body until I’m turned all the way around and facing it.