“Okay, hit me with it,” he says, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
I smirk and tell him. “Jesse by Joshua Kadison.”
He pauses, and then bursts out laughing. “That is not your favourite song.”
I gasp. “Yes it is! It’s a classic.”
He smiles now, a confident smug smile. “Looks like we’re going on that date.”
What? No way in hell he listens to that. He scrolls down on his iPod and plays the song. Well, shit.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night,” he says, and I visibly cringe.
“I have to work tomorrow night. How about the night after?” I ask, wringing my hands.
“Sounds good to me,” he says. “So where do you work?” he asks after a few moments of silence. Why did I mention work? Sometimes, I talk without thinking.
“Oh, just a bar,” I say, flicking my hand out. Like it’s no big deal.
“What bar? I like bars,” he says, as he slowly draws my hand into his.
“Why, are you going to stalk me?” I tease, trying to divert the question. I stare down at our entwined hands and wonder how the hell this happened. I am trying to appear standoffish, bitchy even, but Grayson still seems eager to get to know me. Why? It makes me slightly suspicious, because I can’t understand why he’s so interested in me. There are so many beautiful girls around, and I know it wouldn’t be hard for him to get their attention.
“No,” he says, “I think I do enough of that at uni.”
“True,” I reply, teasing.
He holds his hand to his heart dramatically. “Are you saying you don’t enjoy my company?”
“You’re okay,” I say, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly. Grayson flashes me a crooked smile and releases his hand from mine. I feel a pang of disappointment, until he reaches up and takes a long lock of my hair, pulling gently.
“You have the most beautiful hair,” he mumbles. “It’s so blond; it’s almost white.”
“Th- thank you,” I stutter. He smiles, and we continue to listen to music in silence, our bodies grazing. I feel so aware of my arm touching his, of every slight movement. I close my eyes, feeling more relaxed than I have in a long time.
“Don’t fall asleep. We have to get back,” he says, gently pulling out the earphone.
I open my eyes and sit up straight. “I could have slept nicely.”
“Me too,” he adds. We stare at each other for a few intense seconds, before he stands up and holds his hand out to help me up. I offer my hand, and he pulls me up until I’m standing. “Let me walk you to your next class?”
“Okay,” I say.
“And Paris?”
“Yes?” I ask quietly.
“Can I have your phone number?” he asks, dimples popping.
“Ummm, okay.”
His grin bursts forth, and I like it.
Too much.
Why can’t I control myself around him?
*****
The following night, I head into work. Growing up, never in my wildest dreams did I think I would end up stripping for a living, but here I am. My parents died in a car crash when I was thirteen. My mother’s younger sister, Veronica, took me, my sister, and my brother in, and I hated living under her roof. She never liked us, and at the time, I had no idea why she wanted us living with her. I thought that she must have felt obligated, because it was either we go live with her or be put in foster care. I realised soon it was because of the money my parents left us. As our guardian, Veronica was in charge of our money. I haven’t seen a cent of it. When my brother Brody turned eighteen, he took my sister London and me and moved us in with him. Veronica didn’t want to let us go, but somehow, Brody worked out a deal with her. I’m pretty sure it involved paying her a lump sum of money each month.
Brody never spoke about it with me. We moved back into our family home, which had been rented out all that time. Brody paid for all the bills, until London and I were old enough to work part-time jobs to help out. Everything was going okay until Brody met Elizabeth. They were married within six months, and London and I both left the month after that. Elizabeth made it clear we weren’t welcome. I’m not sure if Brody knew the extent of her bitchiness. How someone as kind as my brother could end up with a witch like her, I will never know. London and I never really got on, even as kids, and without Brody there to hold us together, we went our separate ways.
I had moved into a tiny one-bedroom apartment, started uni, and worked at a supermarket to make ends meet. Money was really tight, and I was struggling. I met a guy at uni, and we started to date. Everything was going fine, until it wasn’t. Mark turned out to be a total douchebag. I wanted to finish my degree so I could get a good job, and I needed extra money desperately. Toxic is a well-known strip club, with several different locations. Toxic girls are known to be beautiful, stacked, and talented. They don’t accept just anyone to work at the clubs, and that’s just me stating facts, not being egotistical. With my long white blond hair, big blue eyes and double d’s, let’s just say they welcomed me with open arms. When Brody found out where I worked, he cut me out. He said he never wanted to see me again. I’m sure Elizabeth put him up to it, but either way, I gave him what he wished for.
I haven’t spoken to him since. It hurt then and it still hurts now, but life goes on.
After six months of working, studying, and saving, I left Melbourne and moved to Perth. My manager at Toxic made sure I already had a job when I arrived. Different state, same shitty occupation. I transferred universities, found an apartment, and here I am. I may be a stripper for now, but I know I’m going places. I’m going to get my degree, work my ass off, and be proud that I achieved something all on my own. I’m going to be a history teacher. Someone with a respectable job, doing something that she loves. I want to be that person so badly it almost hurts. I will be that person.