epilogue
Remi
Three Months Later
“FANTASTIC CLASS, EVERYONE!” I TURN the music down, then give my last students of the day a little round of applause. They’re all red-faced and sweaty, but they’re smiling, and no one pulled a rotator cuff, so I consider it a successful class.
The students wipe down their poles, then toss the rags into the laundry basket in the corner before going to the cubbies by the door to grab their clothes and shoes. I dab my forehead with a towel, then make small talk and laugh with the students until the last one departs.
“Bye, Remi!” the woman calls out before the door to the pole studio can close behind her. “See you next week!”
I haven’t gotten used to that yet—everyone knowing me as Remi instead of Mirage.
Now alone in the studio, I turn to look at myself in one of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, which cover the whole back wall. And past the messy hair and flushed cheeks, I see me looking back. No more mask. No more armor. Just me.
My phone starts to ring, and I jog across the studio to grab it from the front desk. Immediately, I smile.
“Hey, Ri,” I say as I answer.
“I hate biology,” Riley groans into the phone, making me laugh as I lean against the desk. “Can I please just drop out and start dancing?”
“Ha, ha. You’re really not funny,” I say. “And you’re not going to school for bio anyway. Just buckle down and pass the class so you can move on to the stuff that you’re actually interested in.”
In the background, I can hear Riley’s feet slapping across the pavement, and I know she’s walking back to her dorm after her last class of the day.
She always calls me on her walk back, and her voice keeps me company as I start my end-of-day tasks: sweeping and mopping the floors, putting away the previous day’s laundry before starting a new load, and turning the Open sign on the front door to Closed.
“Hey, can Linds and I come over this weekend? I need to finish that Monopoly game with Seb. You didn’t put it away again, did you?”
Now I’m the one who groans. “That was once,” I say, exasperated.
I had no idea how serious the two of them were about Monopoly until I put away their half-finished game.
I was tired of it sitting on the kitchen table.
But they threw a temper tantrum the likes of which would rival any two-year-old, and I definitely learned my lesson.
Except now, they play in Seb’s music room instead of the kitchen, and it keeps all of us happy.
“But yeah, you can both come over. We’ll get pizza.”
“Yay! Okay, I’m back in my room now. Gotta get ready to go to the dining hall. But we’ll see you Friday.”
“Okay. Tell Linds hi for me.”
“Remi says hi,” Riley says.
“Hi, Big Sis!” Riley’s roommate yells in the background, muffled through the phone.
I smile. “See you Friday. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The phone clicks off, and as I lower it to the desk, I hear the front door chime.
Shit, I forgot to lock it.
I turn around, preparing to tell whoever it is that we’re closed for the day.
But the guy standing there has dimples, a ball cap, and a big bag of greasy takeout held in one hand.
“Thought my favorite person might be hungry.” Seb holds the bag up, and I’m across the studio and snatching it from him in three seconds flat.
“Starving.” I press up onto my toes to kiss him, and I can smell the fresh autumn air clinging to his hoodie.
There’s a small seating area set up in the corner, for students who are filling out waivers or waiting for their class to begin, and I flop onto one of the couches, then start to pull the takeout containers out of the bag. And tonight, Seb got us curry.
I almost moan at the spicy smell of the red curry paste.
“Have I told you how much I love you?” I ask him, already reaching for one of the containers of white rice.
He lets out a laugh as he comes to join me on the couch, the cushion dipping under his weight. “Are you sure it’s me you love, or is it just the food?”
I think on that for a minute, then say with conviction, “It’s both.”
He laughs again, smiling in that way that still takes my breath away. “That’s fair.”
Seb pulls his containers out, and we eat our curry together as the sun sets outside the studio, the days ending earlier and earlier as we move deeper into autumn.
The studio lights cast the space in a soft pink glow, and it makes it feel even more cozy and intimate as evening drapes itself over the city.
We finish our curry, and then I scoot myself into Seb’s lap, my knees on either side of his hips, my arms draped around his neck.
“Riley and Linds are coming over this weekend. Ri wants to finish that Monopoly game.”
“Sweet. I’m about to crush both of them.” He gives me a sideways smile, and I roll my eyes.
“You guys and your board games, I swear.”
“You should play with us next time.”
I shake my head. “Nope. You all get way too competitive. Last time I won, Ri didn’t speak to me for a week.”
He nods, probably remembering the drama that ensued when I last beat her.
For a moment, everything around me goes quiet, slowing down. I look at Seb, at the way the pink lighting illuminates his face, at the dark shadow clinging to his jaw. Then I turn to look at the studio. My studio.
Mirage.
I wanted to pay homage to the name, even if I don’t go by it anymore. So now the name belongs to the studio and not the woman dancing inside it.
“You ready to go home, or you need help finishing up?” Seb asks, his hands resting gently on my hips.
“I think I’m gonna stay for a while,” I say. “I feel like dancing.”
He looks over my shoulder at the pink-lit studio, and his lips lift on one side. “You feel like teaching one more student today?”
One of my brows arches. “I thought you swore off pole after last time?” I squeeze his shoulder—the one I had to massage after that first pole lesson I gave him. It was sore for weeks after that.
“I’ve been hitting shoulder day hard in the gym.” Tightening his hands around my hips, he hefts me off him, then removes his hat and hoodie, tossing them both onto the couch. “I’m ready for round two.” He flexes his biceps at me, and I can’t help but smile.
“Fine. But if you hurt your shoulder again, don’t cry to me about it.”
He starts stretching his arms out, and his dimples make an appearance when he smiles. “No promises.”
I laugh to myself as I go to the sound system to pick a song. And as Daughter’s “Burn It Down” starts to play and I turn to look at my studio, I’m overcome with a feeling of rightness, of having created something for myself that brings me, and hopefully others, such immense joy.
I’m so glad I decided to be brave. But I’ll never forget what Vegas—and Caliber—did for me.
“Like this?” Seb asks, already reaching for a pole. I can tell from way over here that his muscles aren’t activated right, and in about five seconds, he’s going to reinjure that shoulder. Then he’ll have to explain to the guys that he can’t play their next show because he hurt his arm pole dancing.
Imagining the looks on their faces makes me laugh.
“No,” I tell him. “Definitely not like that.” With a smile and a shake of my head, I go to show Seb how to spin without taking his whole arm off.
The End
Thank You for Reading!
Thank you so much for reading Seb and Remi’s story. I hope you enjoyed it (and hopefully ate some good snacks while you were reading, because this book definitely made me hungry while I was writing it).
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