My phone buzzed, and I reached for it. A text from Flynn.
“What’s got you frowning?” Ash asked.
“Nothing,” I muttered as I opened the message. It was a picture of Flynn’s closet—a section of it had been cleared for me. My frown melted into a smile.
“Now you’re smiling.”
I sighed and showed her the photo. “He’s wants to share his closet with me.”
She shook her head. “Never would’ve believed it. A man like Campbell making room for hisgirlfriend’sclothes.”
“I don’t feel like his girlfriend.”
“What do you feel like?”
“Not sure,” I said. “He’s intensely private and closed off. He doesn’t trust, but…I don’t know. I feel like we’re really building something here. Is that stupid? Naïve? I mean, look at how we met.”
“You have to get over that,” she said gently. “That was Andrew’s doing. And like you said, Flynn could’ve behaved differently. I think it’s okay to trust yourself.”
“I’m so limited in my experiences, Ash. But he doesn’t make me feel that way.”
“So, it’s easy? Between you two?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s easy. I mean, we’re two different people with different ways of doing things, but we always find a way to work it out, I guess. I don’t know.”
It was all so complicated, what I had with Flynn. “I think I shouldn’t focus so much on our past. It doesn’t do any good. I need to look to the future. Speaking of which…I think I’m going to go back to my old job.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “But not until next semester. I’m going to take a few months off, let things settle. My life lately has been nothing but upheaval.”
The money I’d made working in Flynn’s club for the past few months would more than support me during my time off.
“That will be a big change for you,” Ash said.
“I have a feeling it’s not going to be the last big change I see.”
I walked into The Rex with every intention of heading up to Flynn’s penthouse suite to wait for him. I wanted to put the distance behind us and move forward. But Alia and Shawna waylaid me and before I could escape, they dragged me into the club and sat me down at a table.
“You’re not quitting dancing,” Shawna said, tossing long brown hair over her shoulder.
“I’m not?” I asked in confusion.
Alia shook her head, her dark almond-shaped eyes gleaming. “Nope. We won’t let you.”
“But—”
“We don’t care that you’re sleeping with the boss,” Shawna said.
“I thought we went through all this the other day,” I protested.
“We’ve had a meeting,” Alia said, “With the other dancers and the cocktail waitresses. We like you. You’re fun and you enjoy dancing. So no. I won’t let you quit dancing. Quit waitressing if you want. That I get.”
“Yeah, you’re performing tonight,” Shawna said. “So let’s get you back to the dressing room and in costume.”
They tugged me along, not giving me a chance to protest or fight. Not that I really wanted to. I enjoyed performing. It gave me something, fed a part of me I hadn’t known was hungry.
When the club was in full swing, I took the stage. Blinded by the lights, I saw nothing, no one. I moved through my routine with assurance and pride. When I finished, the crowd whistled and cheered as I gathered my discarded costume pieces. I blew the audience a kiss and waltzed off stage and into the dressing room.
