“Charlotte! Lean away from the pole. You keep leaning into it. You look like a monkey.”
Story had been trying to get me to keep my body away from the pole, and swing around with my feet apart, all morning. I was so tired I could barely even hang on.
“Lean out!” She shouted at me. Then she mumbled to herself, “We need to work on your core.”
Resting my hands on my knees, I bent over to catch my breath. Paxton and I had stayed up until late in the evening, talking. Eventually, we’d gone to bed. He had made love to me with adoration and care. Instead of being rough and consuming, his touch was emotional and healing.
“I’m sorry, Story. I’m just so tired.”
“Fine. Let’s try a cross knee release. We need to get you high on the pole, so you can do the layout and hanging spins toward the end of the song. Climb up, and then hook your knee tight before you lie back.”
I followed her lead and found myself hanging upside down on the pole. Stuck. “Story, I can’t get back up.”
The door to the studio opened. All I could see from my upside-down position were male dress shoes and the bottom leg of trousers. “Hey, Story, I was looking for Charlotte. Can I have her for a minute?”
Frustrated, she responded, “Sure. Maybe you can help her down.”
“Hi, Paxton.” I tried not to move too much from my upside-down position, fearful of falling.
I heard him chuckle, and then he squatted down and tilted his head to see me better. “Hey, darlin’. What are you doing?”
“I’m practicing.”
“Do you need some help getting down?” His words were laced with laughter.
“That would be great.”
He stood, put one arm behind my shoulders and the other under my bottom. “Let go.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and then relaxed my legs, so they came off the pole.
He held me close, and I buried my head in his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. I whispered, “You smell good.”
His chest rumbled in laughter. He set me down gently, kissing the top of my head. “You do too.”
I stepped back a step so I could look at him. “You look nice.”
He didn’t acknowledge my compliment. He looked sad. “My plane leaves in a few hours. Max and I have an investor dinner tonight as soon as I get off the plane.”
Scanning him from head to toe, I teased, “You look very professional.”
Tucking my hair behind my ear, he gripped me by the back of the neck and pulled me close. My hands rested on his chest.
“Charlotte, I know this is a difficult time for you.” He paused, and I wondered where he was going with this. He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t go back to the life you’re meant to have.”
“But you’re not.”
He released me and stepped back a bit. “You think that now. I’m going to take some space while I’m gone. I think me leaving is for the best.”
“The best for what?” I crossed my arms.
His eyes never wavered from mine. “I don’t think we should continue… right now. What you said last night about us both getting out of something? You may have been right.”
I shook my head. “So, you’re just leaving? And I won’t even get to talk to you? Thanks for the sex; gotta go?”
“Max and I are going to be very busy.”
I slapped him.
He turned his head and put his palm to his cheek. He didn’t even look angry. He just took it, accepting my anger. Somehow, that hurt even more.
I was livid. “And yes, this time I meant it.
He didn’t respond. Didn’t even fight me.
Looking around, I noticed Story had left us alone. I grabbed my water bottle and towel and left the room. “Good bye, Paxton.”
I went straight to the locker room and cried quietly in a changing room.
This was bullshit! He wanted to leave? Fine. But I had started something, and I was going to finish it. I didn’t know if I was going back to my job, but I knew that I wanted to compete—and that I loved being here.
I dried my eyes and then placed a cool towel on them to lessen the stinging.
When I left the locker room, Paxton had gone. Story was waiting for me at the front desk.
She looked at me questioningly, her eyes wary. “Wh—”
“I don’t know.” I cut her off.
She looked at me as if I was a fragile doll. I didn’t want her pity, and I said a little too tersely, “I don’t know, but we have a dance to finish.”
Her chest started to shake. She giggled.
I barked at her to keep myself from breaking down. “Well, don’t just sit there.”
Pulling her lips between her teeth to curb her laughter, her eyes lit up with admiration. “Yes, ma’am.”
The next few weeks were a blur of travel, practice, work, repeat. I trained Vivian so she could work the studio while Story, Solara, and I managed the remaining three competitions before the final show in California.
Story, Solara, and I became a tight-knit force. We were seamless in our management of the shows. I started to realize what real friendship looked like—and what it felt like—respectful boundaries and trust.
After the final event in Chicago, I told them about the offer to return to my former position. After the celebratory dinner, the three of us went to the outdoor pool at the hotel, paper cups and a bottle of wine in hand.
The moon was shining bright, giving just enough illumination to the unlit outdoor area. I reached for the handle to the gate, but it was locked. “Do you guys want to just head back to my room?”
Story looked to our left and stepped up on the flower pot. “Nope.” She effortlessly leaped over the gate and unlocked it from the inside.
I jokingly asked, “Were you a delinquent?”
Grinning mischievously, she said, “There were some times.”
The three of us settled in the lounge chairs, and I poured us each a glass of wine. “I can’t believe how fast the time has gone. Irvine is in two weeks already.”
Solara had closed her eyes.
She took a deep breath. “I hope you’re planning on staying. We like you. I’d love to have you do more marketing.”
This was my opportunity to come clean. “I haven’t really decided what I’m doing next.” I swung my legs over and sat up on the chair. “My former boss called. He offered me my job back.”
Story stilled, and Solara opened her eyes, rolling her head over to look at me. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him I would have an answer by the gala, but then that went to shit. I guess I just need to call him soon.”
“What do you mean ‘that went to shit?’” Story asked me.
I hadn’t told them about my conversation with Suzanne, so I elaborated. Then Solara laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
“It’s not that funny, Sol.”
“It’s kind of cliché, really.”
I lowered my head and said morosely, “Yeah, I know.”
Then, slowly, I started to laugh too. And soon, the three of us were laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe.
When our laughter subsided, I poured the rest of the bottle into our cups and gave a toast. “To new friends. May they never sleep with your boyfriend.”
Story raised her glass. “No worries here, chica.”
Solara raised hers as well. “Me neither.”
And then we laughed all over again.
We eventually stumbled back to our rooms, and Solara stopped with me at my door.
Kindly, she said, “Paxton will be at the show in California.”
“That’s nice. It’ll be good to see him.”
She looked at me knowingly. “Have you heard from him?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should text him. Just say hello.”
I smiled sadly. “I think it’s best if I don’t. I’m not sure what I’m doing next, and the whole thing with Myla… I don’t know. It’s just…”
She took my hands in hers. “It’s just life. Things happen, Charlotte. We can’t plan to fall in love.”
“I don’t know, Sol. He was pretty clear that it was for the best.”
“I think he thought it was the best for you, and you misunderstood. He didn’t want to burden you with his mess, even though he needs you.” She added, “Desperately.”
“He was so sure of his decision.” Tears welled in my eyes.
“Have you considered that… maybe he knew you needed time to figure out what you were doing? So that when you were ready, you would fight for the two of you?”
The tears fell.
“He’s been alone for a long time.” She rolled her eyes, realizing what she meant to say. “Well, you know, not alone alone, but without someone who really cared about him. Even when he was married to Myla she used him.”
My heart was hurting so much, nausea churned in my stomach.
She continued. “But you… you challenged him. You fought back when he was, quite honestly, a total asshole. Your heart, Charlotte. Your heart. When it came to Erin, Hope, and me? And even Story. You showed him how good you are. But you still don’t know who you are, and he can’t go through that again. He wasn’t leaving you because he doesn’t love you. He left because he does.”
All I could do was nod.
“Just send him a text. Something.”
She enveloped me in a hug.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” As she walked off, I heard her say, “I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed.”
Before I fell asleep that night, I lay on my side and buried under the covers, staring at the blue screen of my phone.
What would I say to him—I miss you?, I love you?
As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t.
Maybe Paxton had been right in leaving. If he’d stayed, I might have gotten lost in him. I might not have been able to make the right decisions for me. Being with him was fun, exciting, challenging, and intense. I needed to make sure I was ready before talking with him.
I turned off the phone. Rolling over, I placed it on the nightstand, plugged it into the charger, and closed my eyes to sleep.
The next day, after our flight landed back in Phoenix, Story had me back in the studio to practice. I swear she was trying to kill me. She never stopped shouting.
“Charlotte, you are so good technically, but you have got to work on your transitions. They are key to the sensuality of the program. Stay fluid and elegant.”
She stood up from the bench she was sitting on and demonstrated what she was talking about. “Transfix your audience. Pull their eyes along your body. They didn’t come to watch a soccer player; they came to be seduced, entranced, and transported into a fantasy. Lure them in from one move to the next.”
Walking around the pole a couple of times, she did some leg circles and then a sunwheel. “Don’t just fling your leg up. Get enough momentum that you can smoothly lower yourself to the ground. Make sure you drop your hips back when you spin; otherwise, you will just drop to the ground like a weight.”
She stepped back. “Now you try.”
The music played, and I did as she said, getting my back leg high enough that I spun to the ground in a stag position.
She shouted again. “Tighten your butt, Charlotte. Pull your abs up!”
I did as she said, and I instantly felt my form improve.
“Again!”
I was exhausted and covered in bruises. But I did it again.
She started clapping. “Good! Good! Now gently lower yourself to the ground, and we’ll start the floor work.”
For the next hour, we worked on the moves from one pole to the next, with the plan to start on the static pole and finish on the spinning pole.
“It will make for a more dramatic finish.” Story said.
Afterward, we sat on the studio floor and talked through the sketches she had laid out on the floor.
“This is really challenging. Do you think we can get it all finished in two weeks?”
“We need to work every day. You’re kind of soft.”
Looking down at my stomach, I pinched the tiny roll that was under my belly button. “I’m not going to lose this overnight, Story.”
“I’m just teasing you, Charlotte. But we do need to work every day. This is going to be fabulous.”
I nodded at her. “Got it.”
She reached out and squeezed my hand. When I looked up at her, admiration and respect were shining in her eyes. “You’ll be ready, Charlotte. You’ll be ready.”