Page 23 of Dance Omega Dance

I sat up, taking in the guest room in the light of day. Simple furnishings that screamed nest with their undeniable luxuriousness, with high-end finishes and plush fabrics. The kind of room I could never afford on a dancer's salary. Sunlight streamed through gauzy curtains, casting the space in a warm glow that felt at odds with the turmoil in my heart.

Swinging my legs out of bed, I winced as my leg screeched in protest. Every muscle ached from yesterday's exertions, the fear, and adrenaline taking their toll. I padded to the en-suite bathroom, marveling at the gleaming tiles and fluffy towels. In my shoebox apartment, the bathroom had been little more than a closet with a leaking showerhead. This felt like another world entirely.

On the counter, I found a new toothbrush still in its packaging, a tube of toothpaste, and an array of high-end toiletries. Bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a soft-bristledhairbrush, a luxurious body wash that smelled of vanilla and amber. Each item was a small, thoughtful gesture, a quiet acknowledgment of my needs. I felt an unexpected lump in my throat, moved by the care of these strangers.

I stepped into the bathroom, washed, brushed my teeth, and used the moisturizer they had supplied me with for my face.

When I finally emerged, I found a stack of new clothes and makeup waiting for me. Soft t-shirts, tracksuit bottoms, leggings, and even a few dresses that would show off my curves. Underneath, there were a few packs of new underwear in my size. They must have gone out early this morning to get these, I realized with a pang. The fit was perfect, hugging my curves without being constricting. It felt like a small miracle, being clean and dressed in something other than the leotards and tights that made up my usual wardrobe.

Underneath the clothes, I found a handwritten note.

"Summer..."it read,"...we thought you might need a few things. Once you're ready, we'd like to take you shopping in the next town over, so you can pick out some clothes and essentials for yourself. No pressure, just let us know when you're up for it. Blake, Anders, & Zach."

“P.s. There is a new mobile phone on charge by your bed for you. We have pre-programmed our numbers into it.”

I gasped. Why? Why would they buy all of this? How could I ever pay them back? With the theater in tatters, my chance of being the star of the show was zero to none... and it wasn’t like I had a lot of money in my savings.

I traced my finger over the words, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest. Gratitude for their thoughtfulness. Worry about accepting more from them than I could ever repay. Fear that this temporary safe harbor could give way at any moment to the brutal realities of the world outside. But also a tentative flicker of something else. Something warm and fragile, a seedling justunfurling in the depths of my heart. The beginning of trust, maybe. Or the slightest possibility that I wasn't as alone as I had always believed.

Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders as I met my gaze in the foggy mirror. I couldn't control what happened next, couldn't predict the twists and turns my life would take. But I could control my next step. And for now, that step would be to walk out of this room, to face the three alphas who had opened their home to me. I didn't know if I could trust them, not really. But I could try to trust myself, to listen to my instincts, and take things one moment at a time. It was all I had, but maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.

AFTER BREAKFAST, ANDERSpulled me into him, his hands covering my eyes. I felt my heart lurch with a wild rush of fear and something else, something I refused to name. His touch was gentle yet firm as he guided me through the penthouse, his body a solid presence at my back. I stumbled, disoriented by the sudden darkness, but his hold never wavered.

"Trust me," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. I could hear the smile in his voice, tinged with a hint of nervous anticipation. I didn't reply, my throat tight with tension as I allowed him to lead me forward, my steps hesitant on the unfamiliar path.

The muffled sounds of the penthouse faded away as we walked, replaced by the hollow echo of hardwood beneath my feet. Anders finally came to a stop, his hands still covering myeyes as he stood behind me. I could sense the others nearby, an electric crackle in the air that raised the hairs on my arms.

"Welcome to your new dance studio," Anders announced, removing his hands and grinning.

I blinked against the sudden brightness, my eyes adjusting to take in the large room before me. Sunlight poured through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow across the polished hardwood floors. The far wall was dominated by a massive mirror, reflecting my expression of wide-eyed shock. A ballet barre stretched along one side of the room, a silent invitation. I squealed, maybe a little too loudly! I could dance, pirouette, move, and be free again.

For a long moment, I couldn't find my voice, couldn’t speak the words of gratitude. My mind was struggling to process the impossible sight before me. I turned to Anders, searching his face for some sign that this was a cruel joke, a twisted game. But his brown eyes held only warmth.

"Blake mentioned that you were a ballerina," he explained softly, glancing over to where the dark-haired alpha stood watching, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "We thought you deserved a space to practice, to do what you love."

My gaze flickered to Blake, and he smiled.

The studio was a study in contrasts; gleaming hardwood and soaring windows spoke of refined elegance, while the haphazard arrangement of equipment hinted at a rushed, almost makeshift setup.

A mismatched collection of chairs and benches lined the walls, as if they'd been gathered from various rooms in the penthouse. In one corner, a small table held a haphazard assortment of water bottles, towels, and a portable speaker.

But despite the hurried, imperfect nature of it all, the room hummed with the unmistakable energy of possibility, of a space created with deliberate care and attention to my needs.

Slowly, I turned back to face the three alphas, my lips curving into a tremendous smile. "Thank you," I said, my voice rough with emotion. "This is... I don't know what to say. Thank you."

Anders' face broke into a delighted grin, his relief palpable. Behind him, Zach leaned against the doorframe, a softer, more pleased version of his usual smirk playing about his lips as he watched me. Even Blake's serious expression seemed to soften, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips.

For a fleeting, fragile moment, I allowed myself to bask in the glow of their shared satisfaction, the unfamiliar warmth of being seen, considered, and cared for. My smile grew a little wider, a little more genuine, as I met Anders' gaze.

Their eyes were too much. Too present. The weight of them settled on my shoulders like a spotlight, burning through the thin fabric of my composure. I turned away before they could see the cracks forming, walking toward the barre like it might anchor me.

My fingers skimmed the polished smooth wood, both cool and familiar. A muscle in my wrist twitched as my memory stirred. My mind began to drift, repeating steps in my mind. Plié. Arabesque. The sweep of music, the rhythm of breath, the clean ache of movement. For a moment, I could almost feel it again, the joy, the clarity, the way dancing used to make the world disappear. I sighed.

Anders stepped forward and placed his hand over mine on the barre. “I know your shoes were damaged. But, well, Zach found a shop, near his gym, on the outer edge of the city.” I nodded. “It is still intact. So, we phoned them, and they’re expecting you for a fitting tomorrow.”

My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped. “Really?”

He nodded, and laughed when I flung my arms around him. “Thank you! Thank you! This. This all means so much!”

---