“Of course you do,” Matty muttered, but the color in his cheeks had finally started to fade.
I caught Soren’s eye across the room and gave him a small, grateful nod. He tipped his head back at me, just as subtle.
The room shifted again, lighter now, buzzing with anticipation instead of secondhand mortification. I settled back into my stretch and let myself enjoy the show, grateful that—for once—the focus wasn’t on my ass, thighs, or whatever fanfiction version of my teammates the internet had cooked up today.
There’d be plenty of time to read those later.
Probably in the tub.
Bella
As far as I was concerned, there were three things that could make even the shittiest day ten times better—a warm and fluffy blanket straight out of the dryer, a plate of biscuits and gravy, specifically from the diner just outside of town, which, in my opinion, had perfected the gravy to biscuits ratio, and a long, grueling pole workout.
Pole wasn’t chaos; it was structure. Sequences I could learn and repeat, progress I could track, sensations that made sense.
Plus, it came with one hell of a playlist.
I wiped the sweat from my face and clicked forward to the next song, smiling when Banks and Doechii blared through my Bluetooth speaker. The bass settled into my bones almost immediately.
I stepped up to the pole and started with a simple fireman spin, gripping high and letting my body circle the cool metal once, twice, thighs slapping softly as I swung around each time.
From there, I climbed.
I was suddenly grateful that Nessa and Dani had convinced me to invest in a slightly more expensive, but wholly more supportive sports bra during our last shopping trip. This thing was worth its weight in gold, holding my breasts tight and secure as I pulled myself up the pole.
God, that burned . . . in the best way possible.
The full-length mirror across the room caught it all—taut, dimpled legs, soft curves, sweat-slicked skin flushed with effort.
It made me feel sexy.Beautiful.
And not because anyone was watching, but rather because I was strong. Focused. Because my body was doing exactly what I asked of it. It had taken me years to appreciate my body for what it was—powerful. And pole dancing had a lot to do with that.
Unlike the rest of the world, which generally didn’t take kindly to women taking up space—physically or emotionally—pole encouraged it. Rewarded it, even. The extra weight gave me the momentum I needed to complete every move.
I shifted my weight into a pole sit, pausing just long enough to feel it. From there, I slid down slowly, engaging every muscle to control the descent before letting gravity do the rest.
I moved into a chair spin next, tightening my core.
This was my favorite part—the precision. Toes pointed, grip adjusted down to the millimeter, exact timing. There was no room for self-consciousness or spiraling thoughts, not when you were spinning on a metal pole four feet off the floor. It was the kind of concentration that my brain could perfectly digest.
I had just lowered myself to the base for a body roll when the overhead lights flickered.
And then again.
The third time, everything went dark.
“Seriously?”
Mother Nature had the shittiest timing. I couldn’t help but feel irrationally offended on behalf of my playlist.
I shook off the thought and shoved my feet into the sandals beside the door. Nessa should be home from work by now, and assuming she and Jared had lost power too, we could at least commiserate together.
Or swap candles. Or both.
I stepped outside, pulled the door shut behind me out of habit, and felt my stomach drop instantly.
“No, no, no.”
