Page 24 of Elevator Pitch

I checkedPole dancingoff my list when Daya started attending classes with me earlier this year. I always wanted to try it, but since my body didn’t meet society’s beauty standards, I convinced myself I needed to lose weight before starting a class. That’s what kept me away from it, but I was wrong. Any body type can work a pole. I’ve never felt sexier or more confident about my curves than when I’m dancing. Plus, it’s another thing to get me out of the house, so my therapist is on board with it too.

I throw a few extra thick hair ties in my duffle bag and text Daya to let her know I’m leaving. We always meet at this shop around the corner from the dance studio to grab smoothies and catch up before class. It’s much needed since we’re too busy sweating and don’t get much time to talk in between routines.

I take the elevator to the garage and I think about my recent coffee shop visits with Greyson. I’ve been doing that experiment for a month, and it’s been excruciating, at least until he popped up. I can’t explain it, either. His presence soothed any qualms I had. Once he approaches me, my onlythoughts are not to embarrass myself in front of him, which I’m certain I do every time we have an interaction. I find that I’m not as anxious because I don’t notice anyone else once he joins me.

Greyson’s visits can’t be more than forty-five minutes, but they feel like so much longer. I’ve been prepping for an upcoming sprint cycle and couldn’t give him much attention, but he didn’t seem to mind. He keeps me company and makes an effort to get to know me. I’d say that makes the experiment successful.

He caught me off guard when he first approached my table. All those people in that café and amid it all, he foundme. I now know that he’s a detail-oriented man. He asks about my tattoos, and I’m not used to men noticing anything about me. These tattoos are my battle scars. An everlasting montage of music etched into my skin. I’ve gone on twelve dates this year, and not one of them asked about my tattoos. Greyson noticed three and promised togive them all his attention. I’m not sure what he meant by that, but I’ll admit I like the sound of it.

Daya is going to love these updates about the ‘hot neighbor,’ as she calls him. She’s more confident with men, and I’m hoping she can give me some advice on how not to embarrass myself whenever I’m around him. He’s appeared in a few of my dreams since we met, that’s all I’ll say about that. It’s a reprieve from my regular nightmares, so I’m not complaining, but he makes me flustered. He is the exact opposite of mySoulBlendmatches.I think if I went out with him, I’d enjoy myself for once. I could check some spicy tasks off my list. All of them if there’s any validity to his recent comments.

I hope to hear you calling me Grey soon.

I’m not deterred by anything ‘nasty.’ If anything, I’m more intrigued.

A part of me believes that I shouldn’t complicate things with Greyson because if something goes wrong, I still have to see him. On the other hand, he’s a beautiful, tolerable man who may beable to satisfy my needs…and I am running out of time to complete the list by my birthday.

Nope.

He’s my neighbor and that’s it.

My hot neighbor whose big arms I’ve dreamt about.

My hot neighbor whose big arms I’ve dreamt about picking me up and fu—that’s enough.

greyson

We’re leaving the dog park and walking through the neighborhood when my stomach starts rumbling.As we stroll down the street, Cliff starts sniffing the air excitedly.I let his nose lead the way, hoping there’s a food truck close by. To our surprise, there is. A smile stretches across my face when I spot the familiar logo,Aguilar’s—our favorite. I know the owners well, one being my best friend Elena, and her cousin, Marco. They love Clifford so much, they added a ‘puppy meal’ of mini tacos on the menu, just for him. I ignore my rumbling stomach as I place our usual order. Elena overhears my voice and peeks out the window with a wide grin.

“Gris?1! You have my boy?” she asks with raised eyebrows.

She hardly ever calls me Grey.

“I do,” I say with a chuckle.

As soon as he hears Elena’s voice, he whips his tail around excitedly.

“I’ll be out in a sec,” she says and holds one finger up.

She whispers something to her cousin Marco, who’s taking my order. I grab my wallet to pay, counting the bills and handing them through the window when he shakes his head.

He says, “We go through this every time you eat here. You are family and we don’t wantyour money.”

“How am I to support a small business if you refuse to let me pay?”

He clears his throat and discreetly points to the tip jar.

Marco is a smart man.

I stash the bills in the tip jar while Elena has her back turned, and he gives me a thumbs up.

She steps out of the truck and exclaims, “My boys!”

Of course, Cliff gets to her first, enjoying chin scratches and baby talk. Then she walks over and folds her arms around me, holding me in an embrace for a moment. She rubs her hand up and down my shoulder blade in a soothing way as if she knew I needed that.

She pulls back and looks me up and down, holding on to both of my shoulders. She’s so short that she’s craning her neck to get a good look at me.

“How are you feeling, Gris?”

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