Strip for Me

by Coffman, Georgia

  “You already like to buy enough gym clothes to wear a different outfit every day for two months, so you might as well get paid to wear it,” Emma said while we sat on the floor with our backs against the couch last night.

  I crunched on carrot sticks and answered with my mouth full. “That’s not exactly practical.”

  “Who said anything about being practical?”

  Instead of answering, I reached for a piece of celery.

  “Look, you’re going to have to face the facts.” She scooted around to face me. “You have to stop worrying about what your parents will say. It’s not going to help. And it’s certainly not going to make you happy.”

  I nodded, knowing she was right but afraid to admit it. Afraid to go after it because I didn’t think I was good enough or capable of doing something so unconventional, especially with my parents breathing down my neck.

  “Just think about it, okay?” Emma suggested as she went into her bedroom.

  I thought about it all night. I thought about it all morning. And I’m still thinking about it now as I drive home after my workout.

  I have so much on my mind that I want to tune it out, so I turn the radio on and lower my window, even though it’s hot as balls out here. LA in June during midday is brutal.

  But it feels good having the wind blow across my face, even if it is hot wind.

  When the guy on the radio asks listeners a question, I turn it up. “What one thing is absolutely crucial on the first date to make you want to go on a second? Call in with your answers.”

  I mull this over, but only one thing comes to mind—to make me feel comfortable.

  To be comfortable with someone and them think it’s sexy.

  And when I make that declaration to myself, all I can think about is Sebastian. The way he made me feel comfortable from the very first night we met. The way I couldn’t help but open up to him.

  Unlike the other guys I’ve ever gone out with, Sebastian listens intently, even when I don’t say anything particularly intriguing. And although he has a tendency to check me out—something he’s unapologetic about—he listens when I speak.

  My chest aches as I pull up to our apartment.

  I haven’t heard from him in over two weeks, and I miss him.

  I miss his kind eyes and easy smiles. Miss tracing his tattoo as we chatted about anything from favorite movies to life.

  I miss the way he made me feel.

  And I don’t know if I’ll ever find that again.

  But what’s more terrifying than that is the possibility that I might never see Sebastian again.

  “Again, I have to ask. Why do you do it if you hate it and don’t plan on doing anything useful with it?” Emma challenges with her hands on her hips in the middle of our kitchen. “What’s the point if you’re just going to complain about it the whole time?”

  My spoonful of yogurt halfway to my lips, I put it down and answer, “I don’t complain about it. I like yogurt.” I shove the spoonful in my mouth and offer a tight-lipped smile for added effect.

  She releases an exhausted breath. “You’re a child.”

  “Why do you care if I like yogurt or not?”

  “Because that’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.” She pins me with her glare. “Yet you always, always, deflect any time someone asks you a question you don’t want to answer.”

  “I don’t—” I stop myself, quickly realizing I was about to deflect again. To deny any aversion to being honest with my best friend. “Maybe I do sometimes…”

  More glaring.

  “Okay, a lot of times.” I set the godforsaken yogurt on the table.

  “You know what I’m asking,” she repeats. “Why do you keep up with a clean diet when you don’t like half the food? When no one’s forcing you to do it?”

  “I work out really hard, so I don’t want to mess it up by eating junk.” I stick my tongue out at her as I pick at the yogurt container.

  “Why do you work out really hard?”

  “Because it makes me feel… alive.” I pause and expect Emma to be surprised or have any reaction other than what she’s doing now. She’s watching me like I didn’t tell her something she already knows. “I used to do it because I liked the way it made me look, but then… I don’t know, something changed? It became more about my increased energy, self-esteem, and confidence. Like lifting weights and getting stronger makes me think I can do anything.”

  I shrug, on the verge of tears, because I’ve never told anyone that. Not Emma, Sebastian, or anyone. The gym has always been my time to strengthen my muscles and my mind.

  My time to shine, even if no one’s watching.

  Especially when no one’s watching, because it’s for me.

  Emma smiles, all her perfect teeth showing. “That. That is what your first post should be, with a picture of you at the gym. Not a cute staged one, but a real one. To encourage other women out there struggling with their diets and workouts, to tell them that you know what it feels like, but it’s so worth it once you push through. How inspiring, right?”

  “That’s the thing—I’m not inspiring. I don’t have anything to offer people.”

  “I thought we were making progress,” she mutters as she pulls me over to the couch. “Sit.”

  Confused, I take a seat opposite her. “Look, I appreciate your speech back there, but that’s why I haven’t committed to doing the Instagram thing. I don’t know what I could say to them. You, on the other hand, you could help them.”

  “Is this about Adam?” she asks as though she doesn’t hear me.

  “What? No. Where did that even come from?”

  “Kendall, it’s okay. You can talk to me.”

  “We broke up like three years ago. He’s never even crossed my mind.” The lie falls off my lips effortlessly.

  She gives me a sad smile but doesn’t stop digging. “He still has a hold on you.”

  The tears build, but I fight them back.

  “I see it in your eyes a lot.” She shifts in her position on the couch, her nose twitching as she tries to find the right words. “How much he not only hurt you, but he took something so valuable from you. Your spirit. Your light. Your drive. He made you feel like you weren’t good enough.”

  A solid tear falls down my cheek. More tears fall with every word she emphasizes. Every word reaches my soul and cuts through me with the truth.

  Because they’re all true.

  Adam broke me.

  He broke any ambition, confidence, any spirit I ever had with every insult he threw at me.

  I nod as she takes my hand, and I speak through my tears. “You’re right. About everything. As always.” I roll my eyes with a smile. I gulp, looking around the room for relief. Something to make these confessions easier. My shoulders deflate, and I decide that I’ve been silent enough. That I need to get it all out there. “You know, he used to ‘borrow’ money from me all the time. He’d get angry if I refused, so it got to the point where I just started giving any allowance my parents gave me straight to him. I told myself he needed it more than I did, anyway, since he couldn’t find a job—or so he told me.” I wipe at more tears that fall. “I always made excuses for him, for everything. I was so wrapped up in him, you know? I would do anything for him, and somewhere along the way, I lost sight of myself because of it.”

  She squeezes my hand.

  “I never told anyone or talked about any of what made him so toxic. I never dealt with any of it, just carried it around with me all this time.”

  “Well,” she hands me my phone with Instagram already pulled up, “now’s a good time to start. It’s time you stop focusing on your flaws—on what Adam or your family thinks of you—and embracing them as your strengths. It’s time you really move on.”

  With shaky hands, I take the phone like it’s a bomb. I’m scared of it. I’m scared of what I’m about to do.

  But I’m also excited in the same way I was scared, like riding a roller coaster for the
first time. The dips and turns were terrifying, but the feeling of flying and the adrenaline coursing through me were, above all else, freeing.

  The excitement builds as I start typing, the energy pulsing through me like I drank an extra shot of espresso.

  I’m finally going to do it. To use my Instagram for more than posts of my food and drinks with the girls.

  And I know exactly what I’ll write. I take Emma’s advice to write something honest and real, even if it might not be attractive in the general sense.

  As I inhale deeply and type, erasing and rewriting to get it just right for what I want to say, I slowly realize I’m more than okay with that because it’s real.

  And real is beautiful in its own way.

  Chapter 52

  Sebastian

  I gather my bag out of my locker and stretch my back. I need to stretch more and get the kinks out to stay loose for future shows.

  I’ve gotten into a good routine the last couple weeks—wake up, work out, eat, and practice. I’ve started going to the gym twice a day most days, and my muscles have been tighter than ever with the extra exercise.

  I stretch my arms over my head as the music still rings in my ears, joined by the slamming of my locker door.

  “We need to talk,” Ty says, holding his hand on the locker like he’s about to shove me into it and steal my lunch money.

  Leo follows behind him, his hair sticking out on the sides. He tried to tame it with gel, but the dances don’t exactly call for tame.

  Jordan and another guy I don’t recognize snicker as they pass us, but I flip them off. “Might want to keep walking, amateurs.”

  They hold their hands up in innocence, an innocence I once had myself. One that’s mixed with arrogance. I was just like them, before I was pummeled to the ground by life itself.

  But life around you continues like the subway. It doesn’t stop for anything or anyone. We just have to hop on and ride it to the end.

  “What’s up?” I say, rubbing my chest, too nervous to look them directly in the eyes. I stare down at the cracked floor, my shadow darkening the space around me from the dim light.

  Ty steps aside to let Leo grasp my shoulder and do his thing. He’s done this a lot. He’s more like a Godfather figure to all of us, steering us one way or another.

  Which means he thinks I need steering.

  That there’s something wrong with me.

  He sits us on the wooden bench by my locker, the thing looking like it belongs in a middle school gym. And right now, the way Leo pins me down with his hand and stare, I feel like I’m about to get scolded like I’m in middle school too.

  Although I don’t know what I’ve done.

  My dance? Did I miss a step?

  I even danced with girls, picking different ones every night. Ones without blond hair or shapely legs.

  Just the opposite. Brunettes. Redheads. Anyone else to make me forget the time I picked a blond and it changed my life.

  “You’re miserable!” Ty exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, exasperated like he’s tired of holding this outburst in.

  Leo grinds his narrow jaw before turning toward Ty behind him. “What the fuck? I told you to be cool and let me do the talking.”

  Ty’s eyes bulge and refuse to look at me. With his arms still out, his tank unable to contain his muscles, he waits for Leo to continue.

  My lips form a tight smile, not liking where this is going.

  Leo turns back to me. “What he means is… we’ve noticed lately that you aren’t yourself.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?” I try to stand. “Very funny, now fuck off.”

  He pins me down again, his eyes softening in apology and determination. “You need to hear this.” He searches for the words, his gaze never leaving mine even though I try to look anywhere but at him.

  The paint peeling off the black walls leaves the white underneath to show. The pattern almost resembles a constellation, white stars against a dark night. Like the night I met Kendall, when we walked underneath the stars, our hands brushing. Nervous. Excited.

  A tease for the possibilities to come.

  Now she’s gone, and the white spots on the wall just resemble bullet holes.

  “Hear us out before you doze off.” Leo drags my attention back to him. “This is what I’m talking about. Your lack of focus, energy, everything. I don’t think we’ve heard you laugh in two weeks.”

  “I laughed yesterday at three oh three p.m. I wrote it down for you.”

  “Cute.” Leo frowns at my attempt to be sarcastic.

  Ty sits behind us, so we turn toward him. “He’s right, Seb. When you dance, we can tell you’re just going through the motions without fire, without anything. You used to love to dance! Now we get asked when The Walking Dead joined Naked Heat.”

  I rub my calloused hands together, picking at them, unsure of what to say. I’ve been throwing myself into Naked Heat, the only thing I have going for me in my life. And now they’re telling me I suck at it?

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  Leo levels with me. “That’s right. You used to love it. You were young and needed the money. You enjoyed it then, but you’ve been done with this phase of your life for a while. Long before Kendall. And not even because you think Joelle made you quit. You’ve just been fighting it, and we want to know why. What’re you afraid of?”

  Ty leans forward with his elbows on his knees, his black hat turned backward. “Is it because of us? You think we wouldn’t be okay without you?”

  “Quite the opposite,” I whisper. “You guys are all I have.”

  Ty and Leo exchange glances. They know I haven’t spoken with my mom since Joelle’s wedding, and they know we’ve never been on good terms even before that. I haven’t spoken to Kendall, either, although Ty’s caught me stalking her Instagram on occasion.

  She posts pictures of the beach with Emma, but today she posted the picture she sent me weeks ago. The one where she’s making a duck face, her sweaty face glistening.

  The one where she looks free.

  And the caption underneath was the most honest, most beautiful thing I’ve seen her post on social media:

  Things are changing around here, Instagram family! I haven’t always been honest on here. But I’m going to start, first with this post. This is what I look like when I go to the gym. Sweaty armpits, hair a mess, exhausted. I’m not ashamed of it because it just shows I work hard! And while we tend to think about fitness as a way to look good—that’s how it was for me too, at first—I have found that it’s much more than that. It makes me FEEL good. It makes me physically, emotionally, and mentally STRONGER. I feel beautiful for once, when I never have before, sweaty armpits and all. So from now on, I’ll be posting more about my workouts and diet to encourage you all to take that leap into working out for a better YOU. Better mind, body, and spirit. We’re living in the age of the strong woman. Let’s join in together! #strongwomen #femaleempowerment #inthistogether #strongeryou

  I read the long post so many times that I have it memorized like it’s the equivalent of a Bible verse to a Christian.

  I’m so proud of her. I know it must’ve been difficult to get out of her comfort zone like that. To post a picture that wasn’t staged, perfect, and pristine.

  And then to write her heart out? Amazing.

  She’s gorgeous, inside and out, and it kills me.

  Kills me that she’s doing so well without me. That I’m reading about the change in her life on social media like the rest of the world.

  Over the last couple weeks, I’ve begun to accept that she was serious, that what we had was only good sex and nothing more. No shared connection that only comes around once in a lifetime.

  And it pisses me off every time I think about it.

  Ty looks away, his jaw working back and forth. But Leo leans forward, a hand gripping my shoulder. “Sebastian, you know we’ll always be here for you. Just because you don’t dance with us doesn’t mean we can’t or won’
t be friends. You left before, and we still hung out, talked, everything like we do since you’ve been back.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “No. It was better,” Ty says, his back turned slightly to us.

  “Ouch, dickhead. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Ty and Leo exchange glances again.

  Looking between them, I ask, “Am I missing the Morse code or something? Blink more slowly so I can catch up.” My blood boils at their shared language. This is what I’m talking about. If I leave, I’m cast out. I’d have to miss out on their experiences, having to find out about it all through Facebook or their website. Like we’re strangers.

  Leo speaks up. “It was different, but what Ty means is that you were happier. You were happier running the hotel because that was your dream. Naked Heat isn’t your dream. It’s why you left in the first place. Not because of Joelle, your mom, or the fucking Easter bunny. You left because this was always temporary for you. It’s time you embrace your dream.”

  I fight the lump in my throat.

  I love Naked Heat, but being in a suit and tie—not a suit with snaps on the side for easy stripping but a real one—handling numbers and putting together proposals, it gave me a whole new perspective. A new world that I enjoyed being part of.

  I got a taste of that stable life, and I left because I was scared.

  Having Leo and Ty come to me, to set me free, helps relieve the stress I feel for leaving. I know I’ll still have them no matter where I go.

  “And we’re going to help you do it right this time. No uncle, no magic fairy dust. Just pure determination and hard work,” Leo says while Ty nods. “We’re going to be with you every step of the way, starting with your first meeting at the bank and possible investors. Your first meeting is Monday morning at eight.”

  “Wait, what?” My brain has a hard time processing that I’m quitting a job I’ve had since I was nineteen, but investors? Banks? Meetings? “Monday is three days away. This is too fast. I wouldn’t know what to say to them.”