Zach turns his head, staring, and I just shrug.
Twenty minutes later, we pull into a shopping center parking lot, and my heart sinks a little when I spot the TGI Friday's sign. Like, don't get me wrong—I'm not some snob who needs fancy restaurants, but after the car and the flowers, I kind of expected . . . more?
I climb out of the car and head toward the restaurant, but Zach catches my wrist. "Where are you going?"
I point at the door. "Uh, to eat?"
He actually chuckles—a rare sound that does things to my insides—and tugs me in a different direction. We enter through a side door and climb a set of stairs, my confusion growing with each step until we reach another door with a sign that reads "Aerial Loft."
"Zach. . . " My voice cracks as he opens the door, revealing a beautiful studio space. Silks in various colors hang from the ceiling, along with lyra hoops and poles. The walls are lined with mirrors, and the hardwood floors gleam under the soft lighting.
Tears prick as memories flood back—not to the sex clubs or private shows—but to the pure joy of flying, of being completely free, of forgetting everything else exists. For those precious moments in the air, I wasn't someone's fantasy or commodity.
I was just . . . me.
"Welcome." A woman with silver-streaked dark hair appears from a back room, her smile warm and genuine. "I'm Danica. You must be Merci."
I shake her hand, still trying to wrap my head around the fact there's a whole-ass aerial studio hidden above a TGI Friday's. "This is . . . I mean, holy shit . . . it’s amazing."
"Thank you." Danica beams, gesturing at the space like a proud parent. "Built this place from scratch. Startedwith a fitness pole dancing class, and it just grew from there."
Fitnesspole dancing?
I eye the gleaming poles mounted near the mirrors. Never thought people would be into it as a form of exercise. But it tracks. Core, arms, legs—it hits everything.
And fuck, if it doesn’t take real strength to make it look effortless.
"Zach came by a few days ago, asked to rent out the space for a private session." Danica's eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles. "Hadn't seen him since he was small. His mother and I used to teach together before. . . " She trails off, and something passes between them I can't read.
I turn to face Zach, who stands near the door, hands shoved in his pockets, watching me with that intense, unblinking stare that used to creep me out but now just makes my heart race. Without thinking, I launch myself at him, and he easily catches me. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him hard.
A few seconds later, someone clears their throat.
Right.
We have an audience.
Zach sets me down, and I turn forward, my cheeks burning.
"Well," Danica says, clapping her hands together. "Shall we get started?"
“Fuck, yeah.”
I follow her to the silks, my heart racing as I run my hand over the fabric. We start with basic stretches—splits, backbends, and shoulder work. My muscles protest a bit, reminding me it's been two months since I've done this. But it feels like coming home.
When she gives me the go-ahead, I grip the silk and pull myself up. Holy shit, my arms are shaking already. I wrap the fabric around my foot, creating that first secure loop, then push up. My shoulders and core are screaming as I haul myself higher. But once I'm up here, suspended in the air, everything else just . . . fades away.
I twist the silk around my waist, then let my body fall backward. The world inverts, blood rushing to my head, and a laugh bursts out of me. God, I missed this feeling.
This absolute freedom.
Zach’s watching me. His eyes are intense, tracking every move. Well, if he wants to stare. . . I grip the fabric tight and unwind into a controlled drop. My body cuts through the air before I catch myself five feet from the floor. The sudden stop makes my abs clench, and my arms burn, but fuck if it isn't worth it for the way his breath catches.
That's right, baby. Just wait until you see what else I can do.
I push back up, arms shaking from a bit of fatigue, then climb a few feet higher. After securing the silk around my thighs, I transition into a split, making sure my lines are extra pretty as I extend my legs wider, showing off just how flexible I can be.
"Beautiful extension," Danica praises. "Want to work on some combinations?"
