Page 14 of Strung Along

“I know nothing about small towns, but even so, I hate that she dealt with that. Do the people here still not like it?”

“Most people have warmed to the idea. But we have a very big elderly population, and, well . . . they can’t seem to differentiate what we do here and what goes on in a strip club. To them, they’re one and the same.”

I scrunch my nose. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know. We all know that. But Poppy has grown very protective of this space and what we do during class. Sometimes that can come off as mean or harsh to those who don’t know better.”

“I’m not one to judge. There’s nothing wrong with strong, driven women. You don’t have to worry about me taking anything the wrong way,” I assure her. The smile she gives me in return has my chest warming. Lifting my voice a little, I ask, “Are you ready to watch me make a complete fool out of myself?”

Poppy answers for her friend. “Show me what you got!”

With my head high and a lightness in my soul that hasn’t been around in weeks, I let Poppy boss me around.

An hour later,I’m sweating in places I didn’t know I could sweat and panting like I’ve just finished running a marathon. My legs and arms are jelly, not a lick of strength left in the muscles that I used today for the first time in years.

But even through the exhaustion and pain, I feel oddly good. Surprisingly strong, even. Not just physical strength, but the mental kind. My mind is clear, my chest light. I’m already counting down the days until the next class.

“Thank you, ladies! See you next week,” Poppy chimes, ushering the women out of the class.

Throughout the hour-long class, I’ve learned all their names, but not much more than that. There wasn’t the time for chitchat. It’s clear that this class is as freeing for them as it was for me. They were laser focused on what they were doing, and once Poppy brought the class to an end, there was a pep in their step so similar to the one in mine. A new determination in their eyes.

A chorus of goodbyes flood the studio, carried on the wind coming from the open door before it’s just the three of us. Bryce squirts water into her mouth and pats at her red cheeks. She’s flushed, sweat gleaming on her brow. Poppy looks similar but has a massive grin on her face.

“So? What do you think? Will you come back?” she asks me.

My reply is instant. “Absolutely. I feel really good, even though I’m like a limp noodle right now.”

“That means you did a good job.” She winks, fanning her chest with her shirt. “We usually go grab something to eat after class as a reward for kicking ass. Wanna come?”

I glance at Bryce for her approval, but she’s already nodding. Adjusting the strap of my too-light gym bag on my shoulder, I say, “I’d love to.”

Poppy rushes off to change out of her pole clothes, and Bryce jumps right in, asking me questions about myself. I don’t balk at the forwardness. Not when I want to get to know them just as well.

Something tells me that becoming their friend will be one of the better decisions I’ve made in my most recent years.

7

ANNALISE

“You’re tellingme that you found your boyfriend of three years cheating on yourbirthday?” Bryce gapes at me, dumbstruck at the information I’ve just dropped on them.

I might have only winced a handful of times while indulging them on all things Anna and Stewart when we got to the bakery an hour ago. Even that asshole’s name makes me feel ill. Like I’ve swallowed too much cheap tequila on an empty stomach.

“Fiancé, Bryce. Her fiancé!” Poppy corrects her, just as unimpressed as her best friend.

Bryce’s fingers jab into the squishy top of her croissant. “Your fiancé! That makes the betrayal even worse. How is it possible that you only ruined a few of his things? I would have killed him.”

“He loved his clothes more than he ever loved me. Clearly. This was better revenge than death,” I mutter.

Poppy twists her mouth, sweeping her eyes over the hustle and bustle of people entering and exiting the shop. Our table is tucked in the corner, a bit separate from the rest of the open space. The vibe of the place is incredibly cozy, somewhere you could spend hours working or thinking. It’s nice to have somewhere like this here. Back in Vancouver, there were amillion different coffee shops and cafes, but none of them made me feel this . . . at peace.

I frown. I’m aware enough of my own mind to realize that comparing Cherry Peak to Vancouver has become a crutch of sorts. A way to make my move not feel as scary. But in doing that, am I stalling my progress here? I don’t know if I’m going to ever go back, so why can’t I let go? The only person who matters to me in Vancouver is my mother. Is she enough to eventually pull me back?

The answer is obvious. If staying with her were enough, I wouldn’t have left.

“Have you gone on a date since? You know they say that the best way to move on is to let someone else screw you five ways to Sunday,” Poppy says.

“Nobody says it like that,” Bryce blurts, fighting off a laugh.

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