Hazed (Palm South University)

My hips come back away from the pole, legs extended in straddle.

And bam — just like that, I’m in my last trick of the routine, a beautifully extended and strong twist-grip Ayesha.

Nailed it.

Distantly, I hear the applause and cheers from the other girls in the studio. It’s open practice time, so everyone is doing their own thing. I asked the instructor to put on my song for the last bit of class, just to get one routine run without my earphones in.

And now, I’m putting on a show.

I come down via a shoulder dismount, crawling on the floor with as much sex appeal as I can manage as tired as I am now. Then, I lie back, arching my back off the ground and staggering my legs for my final pose as the music cuts out.

And the room goes absolutely wild with cheers.

“Holy shit, Lei!”

“That was incredible!”

“So strong!”

“You’re totally going to win!”

I’m still on the floor, propped up against the pole now and laughing as girl after girl comes up to congratulate me. I blush and wave them off, but as I try to catch my breath, I can feel it, the adrenaline zinging through my bones.

I did it.

“Well done, babe,” Karen, the owner of the studio, says to me as she extends a hand down to help me up from the floor. She’s so tall and strong that I feel like a little pixie next to her — even in my eight-inch competition heels.

“Thank you,” I pant. “I’m dead.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she says on a chuckle. “But let me tell you this. If you can do what you just did in here on that stage next month?” She clicks her tongue. “You won’t just win first place, you’ll scare off any girl in the South Florida area from competing in the same level and category as you ever again.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be very fun. Then what would I do?”

“Teach.”

She says the word so easily, so quickly, that I almost think I imagined it. But when I laugh it off, she just arches a brow.

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack. I know I would hire you in a heartbeat. Every day I get dozens of emails from new clients. Pole fitness is blowing up, thanks to social media. More and more people want to learn. And honestly, we don’t have enough instructors to teach them all.”

She hands me a towel when we make it over to the cubbies where all our gym bags are, and I swig my water, considering the offer.

“I never thought about teaching before.”

“Well, you’re incredibly talented, and strong. You know the sport. You’ve competed multiple times. And you’ve been through hardship.” She frowns a little at that. Karen is familiar with everything that happened with my last studio.

The memory makes my stomach knot.

“I’m just saying, our clients would be lucky to learn from you. So, if you ever get tired of the competition life, you let me know. And hey,” she adds with a shrug. “You’ll always be a performer. There are shows and clubs around here just dying to book someone as talented as you are.”

I smile. “I think I’d be more apt to teach than to perform.”

“Well, I think you could do either. Or both, even, if you wanted to.”

“I would take a class from you in a heartbeat,” one of the girls chimes in from her pole, and then a chorus of agreement rings out across the studio.

I laugh, waving them off. “Thank you, ladies, but… for now, I just want to get through the competition next month.”

They smile and nod, and then get back to the last of their practice. But Karen leans in, grabbing my shoulder before she whispers, “You’re going to win.”

After a cool down, I’ve got my bag slung over my shoulder and I’m walking out of the studio. I pull my phone out to see a dozen or so missed texts — mostly from the girls checking in on me.

I know they’re worried. After all, I was completely alone on Valentine’s Day earlier this week, and I haven’t even tried to date since everything happened between me and Brandon. The truth is that I’m not ready. And maybe I will be soon, but right now, I just want to focus on myself.

Besides, the new job is keeping me plenty busy — especially with our launch event in the works.

Tucking my phone away, I dig for my keys and unlock my car in the parking lot. And just as I do, I notice a familiar car driving by.

I stop dead in my tracks at the sight of it — the sleek, pearl white Acura NSX. I’d know that car anywhere, and I’d also know just as well as anyone else that there wasn’t another one out there like it.

It’s one of a kind.