Page 57 of Wreck Me

But why would they be carrying scaffolding poles out of the building instead of into it?

It doesn’t make sense.

I nudge open the door to the pole dancing fitness class and my jaw hits the floor.

It wasn't scaffolding they were carrying.

It was our poles.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask a guy wearing a luminous yellow jacket and a frown.

‘Health and safety. Poles have to be removed,’ he says in a monotone voice.

‘What do you mean health and safety?’ I fold my arms across my chest. ‘They’ve been fine for the last four years. Why now?’ Even as the words leave my lips, I know the answer.

‘Someone made a complaint. Not only are the poles a health hazard, but they’re an inappropriate form of fitness for an establishment of this calibre.’ The man drawls out the word calibre like he actually means bullshit.

James Beckett.

A memory of our conversation at the club replays in my head.

‘You dance at college?’

He wouldn't.

Would he?

I glance around as the last pole is carried out of the building.

He just did.

I pull out my phone and type a text before I can overthink it.

How could you?

Three dots appear immediately.

Working off steam elsewhere is cheating.

Taking away my only other outlet is cheating. You’re incorrigible.

No, I’m insatiable. It’s different.

Maybe I’ll take up running.

You can run… but you can’t hide, sweetheart ; )

I find Tim outside the gym. His lips twitch like he’s holding back a laugh. The bastard is in on it. And I thought we’d sort of become friends.

Hysteria rises in my chest, but truly there’s nothing funny about it.

It’s frustrating that I can’t dance, but there’s also a part of me deep down that’s oddly flattered that a man like James would go to such lengths to prevent me releasing my tension elsewhere.

No man ever cared for me before. Let alone a man who could have any woman in the world.

‘You ready to go home, Miss Fitzgerald?’ Tim opens the back door for me.

‘I guess so, seeing as there’s not a lot else I can do,’ I huff as I slide into the backseat.