Page 27 of Dance Omega Dance

His voice vibrated through my bones. “There’s not enough baggage in the world that could ever scare me off, Summer Rayne. You’re mine. Always and forever.”

The third interruption came the next day, as I was cooling down from my practice. Anders entered the room, his presence filling the space, making the air feel thicker, harder to breathe. "You haven't eaten breakfast," he stated, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.

I sighed, turning to face him. "I'm not hungry, Anders," I said, my voice weary. My stomach rumbled, giving me away. Damn, I was hungry. Starving. But I’d decided that I had to keep my distance from them. Protect them. I couldn’t get attached. Instead, I needed time to think. Think about whether to run or hide again. To decide what came next. Who came next? I couldn’t wait around for Kage to hurl me over his grimy shoulder and take me away caveman style. I needed a plan... and the only way I could come up with one was if I cleared my mind. Dance was the only way I knew how to do that.

He took a step closer, his scent wrapping around me, making my pulse quicken. "You need to eat, Summer. You can't keep pushing yourself like this without fuel," he said, his voice firm but gentle.

I looked up at him, getting lost in the swirl of his deep brown eyes, and I felt a flutter in my stomach, a traitorous warmth that spread through my body

"Fine," I muttered. Anything to get him to leave, to give me space to breathe.

He left the room, and I sank to the floor, my back against the mirror, my breaths coming in quick gasps. I hated this, hated the way they all made me feel so out of control. I hated the way my body responded to them, the way their scents made my pulse quicken and my breath catch. I hated the way they made me feel safe and protected, even when they smothered me with their attention.

I took a moment to collect myself, then stood up and left the dance studio. I found Anders sitting in the kitchen. His sandy blonde hair was slightly tousled, as he looked up and met me with a gentle smile. He had a cup of tea steaming in front of him, and he pushed a plate of toast and marmalade toward me. How did he know I liked that? I frowned. Then, he pushed over another cup towards me without a word. The scent of the tea, a soothing chamomile, mingled with his scent of a flowing river, creating an atmosphere of calm and tranquility. I hesitated for a moment, then sat down across from him, the tension in my shoulders easing as I took my tea.

"How was your practice?" Anders asked, his voice calm and measured. He took a sip of his tea, his movements graceful and unhurried.

I wrapped my hands around the warm cup, letting the heat seep into my skin. "It was good," I said, my voice soft. I took a sip, the tea's warmth spreading through me, grounding me.

Anders nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "You dance beautifully, Summer. There's a lot of emotion in your movements," he said, his voice thoughtful.

I looked down at my tea, a small smile playing on my lips. "Dance has always been my way of expressing myself," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Anders leaned back in his chair, his posture open and inviting. "How long have you been dancing?" he asked, his tone genuine and interested.

I paused, my fingers tracing the rim of my cup. "Since I was a little girl," I said, my voice distant as memories flooded back. "My parents enrolled me in ballet classes when I was five. They said I was a natural."

Anders smiled, his eyes warm and encouraging. "I can see that. You have a grace about you, even when you're not dancing," he said, his voice soft.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, and I looked away, my hair falling over my face like a curtain. "I've always loved it," I said, my voice barely audible. "It's the one thing that's always been mine, you know? Something no one can take away from me."

Anders nodded, his expression understanding. "I can relate to that," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Being a therapist, I've seen how important it is for people to have something that's just theirs, something that grounds them."

I looked up at him, my green eyes meeting his brown ones. "What's yours?" I asked, my voice soft but curious.

Anders smiled, his eyes taking on a distant look. "Helping people," he said simply. "Seeing someone come into my office broken and lost, and then watching them leave with a sense of hope and direction... there's nothing quite like it."

I took another sip of my tea, my mind racing. I had never thought about it that way, had never considered that helping others could be a grounding force. "That must be rewarding," I said, my voice thoughtful.

Anders nodded, his smile warm. "It is. But it's also challenging. Sometimes people aren't ready to be helped, andthat's okay too. It's all about meeting them where they are, not where I think they should be."

I felt a lump form in my throat, and looked away. Anders' words resonated deep within me, touching a part of me I kept hidden, sometimes even from myself.

Over the next few days, our conversations became a daily ritual. I would emerge from the dance studio, my body tired but my spirit renewed, and Anders would be there, a cup of tea waiting for me, with two slices of toast and marmalade. We would sit and talk, our conversations flowing easily, naturally. I found myself looking forward to these moments, opening up to Anders in a way I never had with anyone else.

"What does dance mean to you, Summer?" Anders asked one day, his voice soft and thoughtful.

I paused, my cup halfway to my lips, as I considered his question. "It's... everything," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's my joy, my pain, my triumph, my defeat, and the one thing that's always been there for me, no matter what."

Anders nodded, his eyes warm and understanding. "That's beautiful," he said, his voice soft. "And it's clear to see, in every movement, in every step. You pour your soul into your dance, and it's breathtaking to watch."

My cheeks reddened, and I hid behind my soft, flowing hair.

As the days turned into weeks, I grew more and more attached to Anders. His presence was a calming force in my life, a steady rock in the storm of my emotions. I sought him out, looking forward to our conversations, our shared cups of tea. But even as I felt myself drawn to him, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease, the sense that I was getting too close, too fast.

I would sit across from him, my body relaxed and my shoulders loose. I’d feel a sense of contentment, of peace. But then, out of nowhere, my heart would race, my palms wouldsweat, and I would feel a surge of panic, a desperate need to run, to hide, to protect myself.

Looking at Anders, at his warm brown eyes, his gentle smile, I would feel a war raging within me, a battle between my heart and my head, between my desire for connection and my fear of vulnerability. And I didn't know which side would win. Didn't know which side I wanted to win. All I knew was that Anders was becoming important to me, and that scared me more than anything else.

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