's P.

. It was my last year in college. I had to pass the eight exams with the complex pre-board test and two thesis de

one, most especially my dreams for my family. They were my inspirations on each passing day. They were

air. But after all, I chose to be optimistic. Everything would change depending on how you viewed

e, Diane. You can do it! Y

d to be a working student. Earning money was my topmost priority, and that was the reason why I had to study and work at th

ather left us—I was only twelve by then. Ever since our father died, Mom had gotten ill, and she would sometimes become bedridden. Somehow, I w

y night job that apart from helping me to provide for my siblings

or their sake, I was willing to sacrifice and do everything. I could get tired, but giving up should never be included

to see my face. They could only watch me while dancing on the stage, but they did not have the authority to to

e contract before I became a dancer here. I should not be also included in the girls who lured themselv

ve. Not all club dancers were paid to go and fuck with customers. I wasn't counted in those go-all-the-way dancers

to spend millions of tips, I still ignored them. Someone once approached me and offered me a golden pair of necklac

avid customer to talk to me, and

heard Martina shouted at

epers, other dancers here were such a mess when it came to their dresses and shoes. A variety of glittering clothes, sandals, and boxes of

my identity. That Martina who called me? Her real name was Maria Bettina, and she was the only one wh

name here should be Claire. Sometimes, I would just ignore her and laugh at her secretly, but there was one time that

losing her cheap face powder, she would like to make it a bigger one. Aside from me, she would also bully the

her dull hair full of bleach, breakage, and split ends. Also, Martina liked Leandro ever since—

to the stage. I seemed to be doing a fashion show ramp while the

ut I always ended up snubbing them since that was what they could just d

dancing, and a silver cropped-top sleeveless, I positioned myself in the middle of the stage and began to sway in a piece of seductive mus

n seemed to be always harmonizing with it. This was one of the main reasons why most customers liked me. Pole danci

y heart, I did not even fall into one of them. Not eve

businessman of this generation. At his age, he was undeni

Leandro to your family and friends. He was the type of guy who was unquestionably good-looking—someone who seemed to

I didn't like him. I j

to like someone just beca

en he opened his mouth to boast about the things he already achieved in life. What I didn't like the most was concei

being a friend. There was no such thing as an incredible spark and a strange leap over the chest. There were no butterflies in the stom

people say that you would automatically feel when you laid eyes on that special someone. M

ed my position above the pole took a little while longer. I carefully slid down, conditione

grabbed my right wrist and quickly pulled me into the darker side that was less v