Page 34 of Dance Omega Dance

Maddie squeezed my hand. "That’s what you need," she said. "Someone who knows how to laugh. Someone who doesn’t care what the world expects."

I shook my head. But... she was right, and it scared me.

"He’s intense, Maddie. Not like Blake. He knows how to get what he wants." I blinked, vision clearing. "And he wants me. They all do."

"And you?" Her brows raised.

My eyes found hers, and the truth came with them. "I like him. Heck, I like them all. They’re my scent matches. When I’m around them, I can almost taste them, feel them everywhere on me. It’s like an addiction, and they’re my drug of choice." The words escaped, and I knew I couldn’t get them back.

We both blew on our drinks. Hers was black, smooth, and strong. Mine had candy bits melting on the surface, colors slipping and hiding beneath whipped cream.

"Anders," she said. Not a question.

"Anders," I repeated. A statement. A fact. The undeniable thing I’d been trying to deny.

We both drank again, sips this time, more careful.

"He’s so understanding," I said, hating the tremor in my voice. "He looks at me and knows what I’m feeling. Like I can’t hide anything."

"And?"

"He said they should respect my choice. That I get to decide." I wanted to believe that more than anything.

Maddie’s hair bounced around her face. Her curls had found a way free, wild as ever, haloing her in warm tones. "It’s a good thing, you know," she said, "when they make you feel this way. It means you’re alive."

My laugh was shaky, more like a sigh that forgot itself on the way out. "Or it means I’m going to explode."

"You’re stronger than that," she said. Her eyes narrowed playfully; the challenge clear. "Summer, you stopped running the moment you moved into Shaker City.”

“How can you say that, though? I was a hermit. I never went anywhere.”

“That doesn’t mean you were running.” She smiled. “That means you had gone through something traumatic and were fearful of it happening again.” I nodded, taking another sip. “Maybe your scent-matched therapist could help you out with that?”

I pursed my lips. Maybe he could. Maybe if I told them all, they all could. Would it be so bad if I were honest with them? But what if that put them in danger?

My voice wavered, split in two, and barely mended. "I was going to be different," I said. "I came here to be on my own. To prove I didn’t need anyone."

She watched me through the mess of words, waited for them to settle, waited for me to catch my breath.

"I don’t think I can do it," I said, as if saying it meant defeat.

"You’re afraid to love them."

I shivered at the word, the weight of it heavier than the empty mug in my hands.

Maddie stood, leaning across the table. "I think," she said, and I knew it would matter, "you’re only afraid of yourself."

We were alone in our corner of the world. The clatter of dishes and voices filled the spaces between her words, but nothing could fill the space inside me.

She was wrong about that, though. It wasn’t me. It was the past.

"I’m scared, Maddie."

"I know you are," she said. "But I know you too." Her hands came back to the center of the table, open. "You don’t have to decide now. Just let it happen. Let yourself feel." She gestured at the empty mug in front of me. "Want another?"

I nodded, unsure if she meant the hot chocolate or the feeling. Unsure if it mattered.

"Whipped cream on top," she said, and we both knew she meant it as a promise, a way of making everything seem easier, lighter, bearable.

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