Stripped Read online

  “You don’t know?” She pulls her shirt down. Her brown eyes look down at my lap. “Doesn’t feel that way. I think I know just what you want right now, Fallon.”

  I clear my throat and put a pillow over my crotch. My balls are tight and ache with the need to release. She sits up, crouches toward me like a mountain lion. Her hair falls over her shoulder and tickles my skin as she settles in beside me, her body long and languid.

  The last time I was this nervous around a girl, I was fourteen and about to lose my virginity to the sixteen-year-old babysitter. My heart was a loose screw ratcheting against my ribs, and I pressed the pillow against my erection. How is it that some moments in life seem to parallel each other?

  There’s something inexplicably sweet about Robyn right now. The rumpled hair, the sleepy squint of her eyes, the swollen pink of her lips.

  “I want more than I deserve to have,” I say.

  I don’t know where the words come from. Something deep within me has taken over. It’s like looking at her, being near her, I can’t lie, not even to myself.

  “Why would you say that?” She reaches out for me with delicate fingers. Hesitates. Then, rests her hand on my chest. I press my hand on top of hers, like trying to create an imprint of her touch right over my heart.

  “Have dinner with me,” I say.

  She looks away for a second, breaking our eye contact for the first time in minutes. I wonder what she’s thinking.

  “Dinner?” She repeats the word, like giving herself time to answer. It’s her turn to be nervous.

  “I figure, if neither of us knows what we want,” I say, brushing her full bottom lip with my thumb, “then we might as well eat while we figure it out. Though I can think of something else I’d rather eat.”

  “What’s stopping you from doing it now?” She looks at me defiantly.

  “Because I said I wanted more.”

  “Fallon—I’m not in a place where I can give you more. Neither are you. You said it yourself.”

  I laugh. “I never thought I’d have to talk someone into having dinner first.”

  “Yup. I’m a floozy like that,” she says sarcastically.

  I grab hold of her chin. This girl. This woman. This magnanimous, messy, gorgeous woman is anything but a floozy. I should know. I am one. And maybe I just recognize something broken in her.

  “I want to put all my cards on the table,” I tell her.

  “That’s a terrible way to play poker,” she says.

  “I’m reckless like that, I guess.”

  “So, what are your cards?” She brushes her hair over the side of her shoulder and it falls in waves, the clean, flowery scent filling every breath I take.

  “I’m leaving in a few months. Our show’s going down to Reno in the fall. And I want to get to know you in as much time as I have left here.”

  She grins with her straight white teeth. “There’s a room full of women in your apartment. Why not choose one of them?”

  “None of them have stolen my thong,” I say honestly. “Besides, they want the spectacle. I want someone who might see more in me.”

  “More than your Magic Mike life?” She traces a circle on my right pec. “I have my best friend’s wedding. And I’m applying to a second master’s program that begins in the fall.”

  “So, we’re both leaving in the fall,” I say. “There’s an idea.”

  “A summer fling?”

  “A summer something,” I say. “Why the frown?”

  “I’ve just never had an arrangement like this before. What, we date for the summer and then good-bye? Aren’t we setting ourselves up for disaster?”

  I shrug. “Not if we agree that it’ll be over when it’s supposed to be over. You just have to promise not to fall in love with me.”

  She slaps my chest. “You are so full of yourself.”

  “Yeah, but I think you like that about me.” I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her completely onto my lap. She wriggles playfully, and I lean my head back at the way my body reacts to her. She’s a hundred percent right. We’re setting ourselves up for disaster, but I don’t care. It’s better than having her for only one night.

  “Okay, we date exclusively until the end of summer, and then leave with no strings attached,” she says. “How do you want to seal the deal?”

  In her thin T-shirt, with her skin prickling into goose bumps under my touch, I have a few ideas in mind. But I remind myself to slow down. I want to do this right. I want more, and I want us both to remember it.

  “Deal,” I whisper, and kiss her.

  There’s a knock on the door, and the creak of rusted hinges. Ricky stands at Robyn’s threshold, a stupid grin on his face.

  “Apologies. Door was open,” he says, winking at Robyn. “You must be the neighbor I’ve heard so much about.”

  “I’m Robyn.” She gets up to shake his hand. I want to tell her she shouldn’t shake his hand because she doesn’t know where it’s been in the last couple of hours. But Ricky ignores her hand and grips her into a bear hug that sends her into a fit of giggles. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

  “I was looking for you to ask where you keep your TP, and to ask whether or not you were attached to that lamp in the living room.”

  I groan and look back at Robyn. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  My heart gives a pleasant squeeze when she winks. “Try to keep it down. I have work in the morning.”

  Then I grab Yaz, and follow Ricky down to my apartment, where nothing—not the empty bottles or shattered lamps or feathers drifting in the air or naked bodies in my living room—can put a damper on the memory of Robyn’s lips on mine.

  8

  Slide

  ROBYN

  “You’re in a good mood,” Lily tells me Monday afternoon. “Is that the Goo Goo Dolls?”

  Too late, I realize I’ve been cleaning my chalkboard and humming at the same time. I dust my hands together, white powder clinging to my black dress.

  “Hey!” I say, my voice breaking. It’s the first time I’ve seen her all day. I don’t want to say she’s avoiding me, but she didn’t wait for me in the teachers’ lounge for our morning coffee. Then again, it was her bachelorette party weekend. After getting a handful of hours of sleep Saturday night, I drank a pot of coffee, raised $300 at the bake sale, and barely stayed awake for brunch with Lily and the bachelorettes. I was the first one to leave, and even though Lily was disappointed, she didn’t say a word. “I didn’t think you’d be here today. Didn’t Sophia take everyone out for dinner?”

  “No rest for the wicked,” she says, offering me one of the two lattes in her hands. I grimace at myself. Monday is my day to get our lunchtime lattes.

  “I’m so sorry, I slept, like, thirteen hours last night,” I say. “Why are you friends with me?”

  “Do you really want to pull at that thread, babe?” she asks, a tiny laugh at the edge of her words.

  I shake my head and close the door to my classroom. We have half an hour left on lunch before our students run back here for the second half of the day. If this were a football game, I’d be losing to them. My lesson plans this week are so half-assed, I should hand in my resignation. It’s a wonder that my students all love reading. I can just assign them my favorite books. Right now, I have them reading The Witch of Blackbird Pond and tying that to the Puritan part of American history.

  Lily pulls up a seat beside my desk. She thumbs through the book at the top of the stack. “You’ve always loved this book.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I lost the copy I had when I was little. But these new covers are great. Lily, I’m sorry I ran out Saturday night. And then yesterday, between the sale and not sleeping, I was just not my usual self.”

  “I’m not even sure what your usual self is these days, to be honest,” she says. “I’ve seen you drink half a bottle of whiskey without blowing chunks, so what really happened on Saturday?”

  “Do you remember the first guy who started dancing for yo
u?” I hold the latte between my hands. Blow on the steam to cool it before taking a sip.

  “Yeah?” She looks at me with a side-eye, unable to stop a bright blush from creeping up her cheeks.

  “That was my mystery neighbor.”

  She slaps her hand over her mouth. “Shut up.”

  So I tell her everything. Retracing the moment Fallon and I met to our deal later Saturday night. When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t completely sure if this weekend was all a dream until I woke to a sweet text from Fallon wishing me a good day at work.

  I watch Lily’s face shift from shock to awe to sheer amusement.

  “So, basically, a temporary arrangement?” she says.

  “Basically.” I take a drink from my latte, still too hot, and scald my tongue.

  Lily is trying her hardest to keep a straight face. I can tell when she’s holding something back. She puckers her lips, like she’s sucking on a sour candy. Like now.

  “What?” I ask.

  She looks over her shoulder at the door. The halls are still clear, but Principal Lukas walks past and waves at us, and we wave back.

  “It’s just—are you sure that’s what you want?”

  This is what I need. Real talk from my best friend. Then why does it make me feel like I might throw up?

  “Look,” I say, “I like him. He likes me. We’re both consenting adults. I don’t know what I want from my life. You of all people must see how much of a mess I’ve been lately.”

  “But you can change that,” Lily says. “You can put yourself out there again. Dave has a ton of single college friends coming in for the wedding. You have options.”

  “Wait, this isn’t an options issue. I didn’t agree to this with Fallon because I’m out of options.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It’s just that if the two of you are so unsure of what you want from the future, maybe you’re actually enabling each other.”

  “Or,” I say, trying not to get angry, “maybe we just both need something that’s no-strings-attached.”

  “You’re both going to be exclusive for, what, a handful of months and then walk away from each other?”

  Your best friend is supposed to be a mirror to yourself. They’re there to be a sounding board, to listen and tell you when you’re being an ass. So why is Lily’s tone bothering me so much?

  “How is it different from a regular relationship that ends after a week or a month or a year?” I ask. “This way, we’re setting a timeline. It’s like organized dating. I’ve never been the clingy one.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks.

  “It means that I’ve never been the clingy one in any of my relationships. Remember Jake? I had to change my number because he couldn’t let it go. And we were together for five months. That’s like so much open-mouth chewing.”

  Lily sits back and studies the steam rising out of her latte. “It just seems like a setup for heartbreak for you. I mean, is he going to be your plus one for the wedding? Wouldn’t that be weird?”

  The judgment in her words bothers me more than it should, and I regret the hurt I caused Fallon with mine.

  “If you’re worried about me bringing my stripper boyfriend to your wedding, you can rest assured. I’m going stag as planned.”

  “Now he’s your boyfriend? Robyn, that’s not what I meant and you know it!”

  “I don’t want to fight. I want you to be happy for me. Who knows, it might end sooner. It might burn out. I just don’t see anything wrong with it right now.”

  Lily watches me for a long time. Her jaw ripples when she bites down on her teeth. She wants to say more, but she isn’t letting herself. “Fine. It still doesn’t excuse you from leaving my bachelorette party like that.”

  I breathe a little easier. “I know and I’m sorry. But Sophia’s doing a great job.”

  Lily chuckles. “She’s special. Easily the most high-maintenance person I’ve ever met. But she loves this stuff.”

  “I’m sorry I’m letting you down.”

  “As long as you’re there, I’ll be happy. I know you’re going through a lot. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait for you in the parking lot for the last dress fitting. Though I should’ve waited before having all that champagne this weekend.” She pats her stomach on her way out.

  The bell finally rings, and I let go of a relieved sigh.

  My phone buzzes. Fallon’s name brings a flutter to the pit of my stomach. Tomorrow night, 8PM?

  And I type back: Yes.

  FALLON

  Practice is a disaster. Vinny and Wonderboy Suave can’t keep time, and I can’t stop the annoyance from my voice when I blow the whistle and yell, “Again.”

  “Come on, Fal,” Ricky says, squeezing water onto his face. We’re in a rented dance studio in Long Island City close to our venue. Ricky likes to block everything out in a studio before moving onto the main stage. It’s smaller than what we’re used to, but it’s newly renovated, and we also share it with a local theater company and a ballerina school. Though we have to book the latest hours.

  I grab hold of the barre and stretch out my quads. I can see all their irritated glares in the mirror.

  “I know everyone’s tired, but we’re only on our first week of the show,” I say.

  Ricky’s choreographed every set we’ve ever done. He’s been training for Broadway since he was in diapers. He had a run on Rent when he was eighteen, and was on the Rock of Ages tour in the UK for a season, but left it all to start Mayhem City and has been doing it ever since.

  “Honeys don’t give a flying fuck if I miss a mark,” Vinny says.

  “I hope that’s true considering you and Frank aren’t even trying,” I say.

  “Yeah,” Wonderboy echoes. They’re identical twins, so when they’re quiet, it’s like seeing the most annoying double. But Frank, aka Wonderboy, has a slightly higher pitch in his voice than Vinny. “They just want to see a bunch of dudes get naked.”

  “Yo, Zac, chill,” Ricky tells me. He’s the only person, other than my father, to call me by my first name. “We’ve been rehearsing nonstop. I think we’ve done pretty good so far. Sold out twice a day. We’ve got that reviewer from Stars Night Out coming this weekend and everything.”

  Vinny goes over to the iPhone plugged in and searches through the songs. “Whose old-man music is this?”

  The other guys laugh or try to hide their smiles behind closed fists.

  I walk over to Vinny and snatch my phone from his hand. “Funny.”

  “Come on, lads,” Lucky Kris says, shoving his clothes into his pack. “It’s been a long-ass day and I’m ready to hit the showers. If you guys want to have it out, then come with me to the ring.”

  Ricky walks up and down the studio with his fingers tented in that way of his when he gets a new idea. “Or, it could be a new set we can work on. Robes and gloves are easy enough to put together. Yes. I see it. Darla, get over here.”

  Darla, our publicist and basically our housemother, looks up from her phone. She has nonstop coverage of “behind the scenes” photos and clips for all our social media pages. Honestly, I expect the woman to have eight hands with all the work she manages to get done. Her walk is the tick-tock of a clock running an hour ahead of schedule, sculpted by the finest surgeons in California. She’s beautiful in a carefully crafted way. When she talks, we listen. When she asks us to act natural, we do it. When she puts us in ridiculous outfits for promotional photo shoots, we say yes. She’s the best parts of Kim Kardashian with a Jersey attitude.

  “Fallon, baby, look at me.” She presses her hands on my shoulders. In six-inch heels, she’s almost my height. “I want you to go to yoga with me. You’re more wound up than my first husband on our wedding night, and you know what happened to him?”

  I look around the room, slightly terrified.

  “You killed him?” Wond
erboy whispers.

  Darla turns her sharp cat eyes on him. “I divorced him a week later. Just promise. It’s around the corner from your new place. Saturday nine a.m.”

  Ricky scoffs. “I think he’ll be less uptight after his date with 6A.”

  Darla pouts, then pinches my chin, and one of her clawlike nails digs into it. But I don’t dare wriggle out of her grip. “You waste no time, do you, baby?”

  “Don’t start, all right?” I mutter to Ricky, once Darla slaps my ass and struts away.

  “Is this the same girl that had you weepy last week?” Aiden asks, bending forward to stretch his calves.

  “Oh, shit,” Vinny jokes, “are you finally losing your virginity?”

  “Please,” I say. “I’ve been pounding pussy since you were in diapers.”

  Wonderboy points a finger at his brother and hollers. “Ohhhhh, he got you, boyyy.”

  “You’re the same age,” Lucky Kris says, rolling his eyes.

  Vinny plugs in his own phone, changing the song to trap rap. “Whatever. I got a hot date tonight.”

  “Tell your mom I said hi,” I say, and dump the rest of my water over my sweaty head.

  Vinny’s eyes light up, and he turns to me like I’m a big red cape and he’s going to run at me with his horns out.

  “Yooo, chill,” Aiden says, ringing his arms around Vinny’s to hold him back.

  “I’ll see you ladies later.” I swing my pack over my shoulder. I wink at the twins and that makes them angrier.

  “Save it for the boxing set,” Ricky shouts at them.

  When I walk out, Aiden runs out and catches me before I cross the street. “Yo, Fal. Wait up.”

  I turn and look at him. His hair somehow manages to stay in that David Beckham puff that he always wears. I swear he puts industrial-strength glue in that thing.

  “What’s up with you?” he asks.

  “I told you guys. We need to be tighter. The sets are off.”

  “I mean, you’re riding the new guys too hard. If they quit, we can’t replace them like that.”

  “Please. There’s tons of them.”

  “But we voted. Just—You never treated me like that. You don’t even talk like that.”