I got into college. A small victory, perhaps, but to me it was very important. My parents, who never believed I had it in me, were stunned. Yet, their surprise quickly morphed into skepticism.
"English Literature?
" my mom had scoffed, her eyes scanning the acceptance letter. "
What are you going to do with that?
Write a poem for your cat?" Her next suggestion, delivered with a shrug and a casual, almost cruel pragmatism, was the final nail in the coffin:
"You know, honey, at least pole dancing makes money."
And that, bizarre as it sounds, is how I found myself in a pole dancing studio. I went because I had no idea what to do, because they were right-I hadn't thought that far ahead. I went because my family is... well, my family. And that's the most unbelievable part:
this story is true.
But the story changed the moment I walked into that class. He was there... Cedric, muscular, graceful... silent and watchful
. I never could have imagined
that from such a quiet beginning, a relationship would ignite between us so fiery and explosive, changing everything I thought I knew about my future. One thing though...
he hated me.