“Sure.”
We spend the next hour working on drops, climbs, and poses. By the end, my purple hoodie is stuck to my skin, my arms feel like jelly, and my thighs are definitely going to have fabric burn. But holy fuck was it worth it.
After my final descent, I flop onto the mat, sprawling out like a sweaty starfish.
Zach walks over and hands me a towel. "Ready to go?"
I take it and pat some of the sweat off. Once I’m done, I grab his hand and he helps me to my feet. Getting up on my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek. "Thank you. This was perfect."
He nods, and I swear, the corner of his mouth twitches. "I wanted to give you something . . . meaningful."
And fuck if he didn't nail it.
This is, hands down, the best date ever.
Because in the past sixty minutes, I reclaimed a piece of myself. Yeah, I learned aerial arts for sex work, butsomewhere between the pole dancing and private shows, I fell in love with the artistry, and it became something more. Something that's woven into the fabric of who I am, regardless of how I got here.
Looking at Zach, seeing how he planned this, remembering how he watched me like I was something precious . . . Maybe we're both finding pieces of ourselves we thought we'd lost.
And maybe we can help each other put them back together.
Chapter 23
Merci
The key Eli swiped from Viktor works perfectly, which is a fucking relief because breaking into my stepbrother's dorm through the window would've been way less sexy than I planned. Plus, his room is about three stories up, and while I may like hanging from silks, I’m definitely not about that parkour life.
I slip inside, closing the door behind me. The common area is spotless, everything in its place—no stray laundry, no empty takeout containers, not even a random sock flung in a corner. It’s annoyingly perfect, like a catalog photo for dorm living.
A Titans sweatshirt is draped over the back of a chair, a #1 on the sleeve. My eyes narrow, lips pressing into a thin line. I still can’t get over the fact Zach and Viktor are roommates. Not that I'm jealous or anything.
Okay, maybe I am. Sue me.
But I’m still trying to get past the fact that they fucked and it’s not easy.
Pushing my jealousy issues aside—I did promise Zach I’d work on them—I head toward the bedrooms. There’s a reason I broke in there, and it’s called payback.
Zach left me high and dry after our perfect date because someone told him sex would "taint the memory" or some shit.
Like seriously? Who even says that?
Though watching him try to explain it had been kind of adorable, all serious-faced while clearly frustrated by his own restraint.
My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket, grinning when I see the message.
Eli: Zach’s heading your way. Operation Cockblock is a go.
Perfect.
My roommate is turning out to be quite the little co-conspirator. Who knew he had such a devious side?
Tucking my phone back into the pocket of my skinny jeans, I enter Zach's room, closing the door slightly, even though I hate it. But I doubt my stepbrother would want there to be an audience for what I'm about to do.
The soft thud of my backpack hitting the floor fills my ears as I take in the room. Everything in here screams Zach. Each book is perfectly aligned on the desk, the bed’s meticulously made, even the faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air.
It’s not warm or cozy, more like a carefully curated display. As if this is the one place he can keep from unraveling.
I crouch and unzip my bag, pulling out the collar I’ve been holding onto for weeks. The leather feels supple under my fingertips.
