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What else would she think?
Lyra is spinning some narrative, and the media is eating it up, thinking we’re back together. But what does Everly think?
I search for her in the arena, marching down the hall to her office even, but I can’t find her anywhere. She doesn’t answer when I call her. Or when I text. But as I’m stalking down the hall to the players’ lot on the way to my car, Asher catches up to me. “Lambert, Everly’s the one who told me to say that,” he tells me.
My brow knits. “The gossip hound thing?”
“Yeah. She saved the whole damn thing,” he says, clearly impressed with our publicist, then blunt as fuck with me as he adds, “Maybe you should…talk to her.”
“I should. I will,” I say, owning it. “Thanks, man.”
I really fucked this whole day up by doing…nothing. Which means it’s time to do something.
30
UPSIDE DOWN DAY
Everly
“When you’ve had a rough day at work…hang upside down.”
That’s what Kyla says to me when class ends that night. After I hightailed it out of the arena, I went straight to a pole class solo. I didn’t want to talk to my friends about what happened today. But that’s because I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to move.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask.
“A little,” she says with a smile. “But then again, I can kind of recognize the feeling. It was a rough day at the day job too.” She glances around the studio as most of the students shuffle out. I’m grabbing my water bottle as she asks, a little nervously, “Hey, any chance you can stick around to shoot some videos?”
“Of course,” I say immediately, since I’ve done that in the past for her as part of her efforts to promote the classes she teaches here.
“Thank you,” she says, flashing a grateful smile. “Marketing is nonstop these days. The Upside Down owner told me the landlord is upping the rent, so she’s marketing it even harder. Translation: I’m marketing it even harder.”
“I’m at your service then,” I say, happy to help. I like having something to do. I like being useful.
“Give me five minutes to straighten up so I don’t have to kick myself if I find a stray towel in a video,” she says as the last student waves goodbye. “You can climb or play on your phone or whatever.”
“Thanks,” I say, and I have zero interest in getting on my phone. I turned it off when I left work. I don’t really want to turn it back on. There’s a part of me that likes being unreachable right now.
No—there’s a part of me thatneedsit.
I spend so much of my life plugged in. Maybe too much.
As Kyla tidies the room, I return to the pole, wanting to keep moving. I already burned off my frustration in class. I’m not upset anymore. My job is handling problems, and I did it today. I’m proud of how I handled a complicated situation. I’m proud of how I took an event that was spiraling out of control and yanked it back into the orbit the team wanted.
So I savor one more moment on this chrome pole that has meant more to me than I ever expected. Or maybe I should have expected this connection. This pole has given me so much. It’s been a reconnection with friends. But also with Marie. We were supposed to do this together, and that was why it was so hard for me to start this class. But I know—I really know—she’d be proud of me. She’d have cheered me on when I walked through the studio door more than a year ago. She’d have been telling me Icould do it each time I came back. She always believed in me, more than anyone. Certainly more than my own parents. I was the same way with her, encouraging her to go to culinary school, to pursue her dreams to be a chef, to explore the world.
Grabbing the pole with my right hand—my stronger side—I do a one-armed spin. It’s a simple move—one of the first I learned. I fly right past the mirror, checking my form. Objectively, it’s good. But I can see the flaws. I’m not sure anyone else could. Because the flaws aren’t in the execution. They’re in my head. In my choices toonlydo certain tricks.
But is that a flaw? I remember Maeve’s words from the other day—do it at your own pace.
Maybe my workaround isn’t truly a cheat. Maybe it’s the life hack I’ve needed. But what if I didn’t need one?
That question echoes in my head as I shift to another trick, one I’ve been doing for a while—an outside leg hang. I do it at my own pace. Grabbing it with both hands, I kick up my legs into the air while dropping my head toward the floor. I hook my left leg around the pole, my ponytail spilling toward the mat while I hold on tight.
“Nice work!” Kyla shouts from the cubbies.
“Feels pretty good,” I say on a sharp breath, not breaking the hold. It feels great actually. It’s everything I needed tonight.
A reset.
