The muscles along my rib cage ached as I stretched around the pole, hanging by one leg as I fought to reach back for the opposite foot. I spun slow and seductively to the melodic voice of H.E.R., inhaling deep and exhaling the same as I tried to match my movements to the beat.
Holding the inverted shape for a count of eight, I carefully released my foot, reaching up between my thighs for the chrome apparatus only to pull my chest up and re-center. I arched, letting my hair flow behind me, reveling in the full-body and mind escape only this could afford me.
It was shortly after Abby’s death that I attended my first pole class. I’d signed up mostly because I thought it matched my rebellious attitude at the time. It was one more way I could disappoint my family, one more way I could act out and be the screw up they all assumed I was.
But what I found inside that pole studio ended up being my saving grace.
It was a community of women empowering themselves, taking back what had been taken from them and re-inventing their souls from the inside out. These women were young, and they were old. They were all shapes, sizes, and colors. They were every corner of the feminine energy.
They were survivors.
It was the most supportive environment I’d ever been in, and more than that — it was the most physically and mentally challenging endeavor I’d ever taken on in my life.
When I was flowing, I couldn’t think about anything other than my breath, my points of contact with the pole, or my next move. There was no space in my brain for thinking about my sister, about the men who took her life and remained free, about my family’s demise once she was gone.
About how it was all my fault.
I knew nothing would change — not for the rest of my life. I would always be haunted by that one party, by that one seemingly innocent bit of peer pressure to con my sister into doing drugs with me. It was supposed to be a fun night, one we would laugh about as we grew older, one we’d tell our kids about when they teased us about not being any fun.
Back in our day…
Instead, it was the night she took her last breath.
And so, pole became more than just a way to exercise for me.
It became the only way to survive.
My breath sawed in and out of my chest once my bare feet touched the wood floor again, and I held onto the pole, heaving and standing still as my dizziness slowly began to fade. Once I felt okay, I strode over to the coffee table that I’d shoved out of the way and under our front bay window, snagging my water bottle off the top of it.
I chugged the cool liquid, mopping my forehead with a towel as I considered what trick sequence I wanted to try next. I was so deep in thought I almost didn’t notice the pair of green eyes watching me.
I felt them before I saw them.
It was a chemical buzz, humming right under the surface of my skin as I stood there in what was left of the fading sunlight coming through the window. I snapped out of the daze I so easily slipped into with pole, still breathing heavily as my gaze found Holden Moore.
He stood rooted in place on the sidewalk in front of the stairs that led up to his house, one large, stuffed paper bag in each arm. His lips were slightly parted, and even from across the street, I noted how his Adam’s apple bobbed hard in his throat as his eyes trailed the length of me.
In order to stick to the pole the way I needed to, I couldn’t wear much clothing. And so, I stood there in a black sports bra and black thong to match, and I didn’t bother to cover myself as those green irises carefully made their way back up to connect to mine.
Fire licked along my navel the longer he stared, the longer I held that gaze — just like it had in the training room the other day. There was something so unwaveringly cocky about how he stood, how he carried himself, how he pushed my buttons like he knew where every single one of them hid.
Something about him changed when he talked to me, it seemed. With everyone else on the team, he was calm, constant, severe — a leader, through and through. But with me, it was as if he saw a fleck of something covered by dirt, and he couldn’t help but scratch and scratch in the mission to uncover it.
It annoyed the ever-loving shit out of me that I was intrigued by that fact.
It annoyed me even more that I loved having his eyes on me.
“Ugh, what a creep.”
I jumped a little in surprise as Mary sidled up next to me, crossing her arms with distaste written in every feature as she shook her head and frowned at Holden.
“We need to invest in blackout curtains.”
I smirked, turning back to find Holden still staring. His gaze seemed stuck to me until it flicked to where Mary was beside me, and he chuckled, adjusting the bags in his arms and turning for the house. When I looked back at my roommate, it was just in time to see her tuck away the two middle fingers she was flipping him.
I nudged her. “Subtle.”
“I don’t care. He’s being a creep. They’re all creeps — that entire football team.”
I arched a brow. “You know I’m a part of that team, too, right? And my dad.”
Mary waved me off. “That’s different. I’m talking about the players. Emphasis on the word player. The whole lot of them thinks they run this campus and that every girl should just fall at their feet. They’re assholes,” she added. “The number one asshole being Leo Hernandez.”
I frowned. “Leo? He’s been sweet to me. A little flirtatious, maybe, but harmless.”
“Trust me. There’s nothing harmless about that stupid boy.”
Her face hardened, then her eyes flicked to mine, and when she saw me waiting with a lifted brow for further explanation, she sucked her teeth and swept her long blonde hair over one shoulder.
“Anyway. Want to smoke a joint and order a pizza, or are you going to strip for our neighbors all night?”
I winked. “Just trying to keep the block interesting. Pizza sounds good.”
“No joint?”
Mary was already pulling out her stash, the aroma of the flower hitting me as she unpacked it from what looked like a makeup bag.
I swallowed, heart ticking up a notch at the sight, at the fact that it was close enough I could make out the resin sticking to the light green and orange bud.
But a flash of my father’s face twisted in grief hit me next, and I blinked, knocking away all temptation with that one simple gesture.
“Just pizza for me.”
The following week, my father announced the depth chart for the team, and everyone was in a tizzy.
Although football wasn’t my life the way it was his, I knew as his daughter that college football chart day was big, not just at our campus, but every campus around the nation. Reporters would offer full coverage of the charts for each university, and thus would begin the predictions for which match ups would prove the best ones of the season.
Of course, this particular day held more weight than ever — because he was the new coach.
And he’d shaken things up.
I didn’t have to look to know there were surprises, that players used to starting found themselves slated in the number two or even three spots. There was a raucous energy among the team as we all filed into the cafeteria after practice, and when I filled my tray and turned to find a seat, it felt like every set of eyes was lasered in on me.
“Hey, why don’t you sit with us today?”
I blinked at the soft, sweet voice, and found myself looking down to find Giana Jones to my left. She held a tray of her own, her curly hair framing her smile like a halo as she beamed up at me.
“I’m Giana,” she said when I didn’t answer. “I know we haven’t had much time together yet, but I’m the Public Relations Assistant Coordinator. I’ll probably be hounding you for an interview soon,” she added with a laugh. “So, let me at least sit with you at lunch first.”
I tried my best to smile back, nodding toward the room in a silent answer for her to lead the way. If I was being honest, I’d planned on taking my tray back to the training room and eating next to the ice baths.
But again, I felt the weight of my father’s expectation, the pressure of the hope he held onto that this move would be good for me. He wanted nothing more than for me to find friends, to find purpose, to be okay.
I’d rather fake that I could do those things than admit to him that I never could.
I followed Giana through the crowd, ignoring the stares from players as I did. I couldn’t tell if they were angry with me, like I had an influence over my father’s decision, or if they were intrigued by me.
I knew that game well — the one where they took bets on who could get the coach’s daughter in their bed before anyone else.
But this wasn’t my first rodeo. If any of them actually thought they stood a chance, they’d end up disappointed in the end.
Giana slid into a seat at a table in the middle of the room, patting the one next to her for me to take. It was right across from Riley Novo, the only female on the team. She beamed just as brightly as Giana when she noted me.
“Hey, Julep. How’s it going?”
“Peachy,” I answered flatly.
Riley and Giana shared a look as if they were having a silent conversation.
“Don’t worry about all this,” Riley said, waving her hand at the tables around us. “Some of the team is bent up over their poor performance at camp that was reflected in the chart today.”
She said that last part louder, which earned her some disgruntled murmurs from her teammates. But she just smiled, cutting into her chicken and popping a piece in her mouth.
Giana snickered.
“How’s it going so far?” Riley asked next. “Anyone I need to set straight?”
The tension in my shoulders eased a bit as I unwrapped my silverware. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“That’s what we figured,” Giana interjected. “We saw it the first day you walked in during spring training. You’re used to this circus just as much as we are.”
“What made you get into training anyway?” Riley asked between bites. “Are you an athlete, too?”
“Does pole dancing count?”
Riley coughed a little as Giana’s eyes doubled, and I waited for it — the judgment, the instant awkwardness that I was met with most of the time when I let that little fun fact slip.
“Um, hell yeah, it counts!” Giana said, surprising me with a light smack across my bicep. “I want to learn! I mean, I’ll probably fall on my face trying but hey, I’m game.”
I smiled — at least, as close to it as my lips could get nowadays.
“I need to build my upper body strength,” she added.
“Lifting books to your face every night doesn’t count?” Riley quipped.
Giana stuck her tongue out.
“I bet you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” I said.
“She is,” a deep voice interjected, and then Clay Johnson swept in and kissed Giana’s blushing cheek before taking the seat on the other side of her.
“You don’t even know what you’re encouraging,” she shot back.
“Enlighten me.”
“Julep is a pole dancer, and she’s going to teach me.”
One of Clay’s dark brows shot up, and he assessed me with an appreciative smile. “This sounds like a great deal for all parties involved.”
I snorted. “It’s not as sexy as you think — especially in the beginning. A lot of bruises.”
“I didn’t see any bruises.”
I went stiff at the familiar voice, keeping my eyes on my food as a large, warm body filled the seat next to me.
“Then again, not the best view from across the street. Maybe you should invite me inside next time.”
I turned to find Holden wearing that stupid smirk he loved to don so much, the dimple in his left cheek defined.
“Or maybe I should invest in blackout curtains and a security team, stalker,” I replied sweetly.
“Who stalked who first?”
I rolled my eyes, just as Riley knocked on the table between us. “Um, can we get a little context here?”
“Julep lives across the street from The Pit,” Holden explained.
“No way!” Giana gushed, squeezing my forearm. “You have to come out after the first game. Win or lose, The Pit is always the place to be.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Sounds like it.”
That earned me a laugh from Riley. “Aside from the fact that it looks and smells like a bachelor pad, it actually is pretty fun.”
“Hey! Not every part is like a bachelor pad,” Holden defended.
“Yeah, yeah, we all love and appreciate your pretty garden,” someone said as they rounded the table, grinding a knuckle into Holden’s head as they passed. Leo Hernandez plopped down in the seat on one side of Riley with a grin just as Zeke Collins took the one on the other side of her.
And suddenly, I felt surrounded.
“You should come over sometime though,” Leo added once he was seated. “And bring that roommate of yours.”
“You mean the one who hates you?”
Leo smirked, shrugging. “They all say they hate me, but words are cheap.”
He winked at me, and I let out an incredulous breath of a laugh before picking at the broccoli on my plate.
Zeke threw his arm around Riley, whispering something into her neck that made her blush and made me feel uncomfortable for having witnessed it.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” Holden said in a low voice, nodding toward where Zeke and Riley were huddled together. “Although, I’d take this over the shit show they were their freshman season.”
“Isn’t it weird,” I asked. “Two teammates dating?”
He shrugged, shoveling a huge mound of rice into his mouth. Once he swallowed, he said, “Not really any of my business. As long as they do their job on the field, I don’t care what’s going on off it.”
“So very captain of you.”
Holden winked, and I fought the urge to give him another roll of my eyes.
“What about you?” I asked, waving the end of my fork toward the back corner table. “Which one of the cheerleaders is yours?”
“Oh no,” Leo interjected, standing up enough to clap Holden hard on the shoulder. “Cap doesn’t date.”
“Wilson is his one true love,” Clay added.
I gave them both a look of disbelief. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
“They tell no lies,” Riley said. “QB1 doesn’t have time for a girlfriend.”
“He makes time for the important part of a relationship, though,” Zeke added with a wink.
I caught Holden just in time to see him giving Zeke a warning glare, and Riley smacked Zeke across the chest.
“Ah — so that’s the move, huh? Pull a cheerleader into your bed, make her think she has a chance, only to break her heart?”
Holden angled himself toward me, one elbow on the table as he leaned in and invaded my space. His scent overpowered anything else, a combination of his spicy body wash and the musk still hanging on from practice.
“Is this your not-so-subtle way of asking if I have a girlfriend, Julep Lee? Because I can save you the detective work and tell you that I don’t.”
I scoffed. “Like I care.”
“Seems like you might.”
“Seems like they might need to order new helmets to fit your big head.”
Leo coughed to cover his laugh, nudging Riley who was having that silent conversation with Giana across the table again.
Holden ignored all of it, only leaning in even more, his breath warm on my lips. “Some of us are going out tonight to celebrate chart before the real work of the season starts. You should come.”
“Since when are you going out?” Leo asked with a scoff.
“Since now,” Holden answered without looking away from me. I didn’t think it was possible for him to lean in any closer without it being a kiss, but he managed, and I resisted the urge to back down. “That is, if Julep joins us.”
My next inhale came harder than the one before it, burning in a way I was unfamiliar with as those sea green eyes danced.
“You keep forgetting who I am,” I said, hoping my voice was louder to him than it was over the roaring in my ears.
“I know exactly who you are.”
That made me scoff. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“So, let’s change that.”
He shot the words back at me so quickly that the table went quiet, everyone pretending to eat when I knew damned well they were all tuned in to what I would say back.
I narrowed my eyes, rolling my lips together before I pressed just a fraction of an inch into the slight space that still existed between us. I opened my mouth, ready to fire back even though I didn’t have anything locked and loaded.
But before I could, a deep voice rumbled through the room.
“Moore.”
It was like a rubber band snapping, how my father’s voice made every player sit at attention. They straightened their backs, aligned their shoulders, and kept their eyes on their food.
Everyone except for Holden, who jumped back from me like I was on fire before standing like a fucking soldier.
“Sir,” he answered.
Dad ambled over to the table slowly, a tray of food in his hands as his eyes surveyed the scene. He looked at the table of players, at Giana, at me, and lastly, at Holden — at where he was in proximity to me.
There was no verbal response, just a head tilt from my father toward the door. He walked out without checking to see if Holden followed — which he did, without so much as a look behind at me or anyone else.
When they were gone, Leo let out a fizz of a laugh that set the rest of the table at ease.
“Poor Cap,” Zeke said, shaking his head. “Can’t catch a break this season.”
Embarrassment heated my neck as eyes slowly drifted to me, and I cleared my throat, forcing the best smile I could before I grabbed my tray and stood.
“I better get back,” was all I quietly offered before I was jetting toward the trash cans to dump my barely touched lunch.
Giana and Riley chased me down, stopping me before I could leave.
“You really should come out tonight,” Giana said. “We could use another girl in the troupe with all this…” She waved a hand. “Masculine energy floating around.”
I glanced behind them at where the players watched me, then to the door my father had led Holden out of, and my chest tightened.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I… I can’t tonight.”
And then before either of them could argue, I bolted.
