Chapter Twenty-one
F rustration gathered in my shoulders and pulled my arms taut as I stood in the middle of my makeshift studio. The dance was precise but missing its pulse. Flat, like dancing to a rhythm I couldn’t hear. With every breath, I felt the past claw at me, demanding a perfection I couldn’t give.
The door creaked.
I froze, my spine straightening, every nerve ending tingling with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. Footsteps, both quiet and measured. I didn’t turn, but I felt him. Anders. His hand found my shoulder, its touch steady and comforting, as if it belonged there. I moaned, leaning into his touch. My thoughts scattered like leaves caught in a gust. I should have pulled away, re-established the distance I once thought I needed. But he was warm, strong, and safe.
His breath was soft against my neck. "Feel it Summer," he murmured, the words a gentle command. Then he kissed the side of my throat, just below the ear, sending shivers racing through me like an electric current. My scent filled the room, cotton candy sweet and betraying every effort I'd made to stay controlled. His scent washed over me, the purity of a river flowing in every direction. It was too much, but I couldn't get enough.
"Close your eyes," he said, and I was surprised at how easily I obeyed.
I felt his fingers slide down my arms, intertwining with mine as he guided them into the position he’d seen me practice countless times. We stood there, suspended in a moment that felt more real than anything I'd created on my own. My pulse matched his, a strange duet I couldn't understand.
The move I’d struggled with became fluid as he swayed my body. “Let the music flow through you.”
I leaned back into his chest, arching into his touch. “Don't think about it,” Anders whispered, his lips brushing my temple.
The tightness in my shoulders softened, the tension bleeding away as I danced around him. My mind emptied of everything but the feeling of Anders with me, moving as though we were two halves of a whole. For the first time today, the dance felt true.
My thoughts drifted away as my body found its rhythm, riding a current that he created around us. It was new, terrifying, but more liberating than I’d expected. I could almost see the invisible ties connecting us, and weaving through my old defenses. “I’ve always danced alone,” I admitted, and he smiled.
“You’re not alone anymore, my love.” The softness of his voice washed over me, calming my soul. I wasn’t alone, I thought. Not now, and not ever again. The feeling was euphoric, as though for the first time in my life, I belonged.
The room spun in a blur of motion and emotion, Anders' touch guiding me to places I hadn't dared to visit. My limbs moved with an abandon I thought I’d lost, floating in his quiet certainty.
“Having someone else in my space feels...” I faltered, the words escaping me like startled birds, leaving only silence in their wake. I couldn’t find the end of the sentence. Or maybe I could, and it scared me too much to say. My instinct was to hold back, protect the fragile edges of my independence. But Anders’ steady presence melted that resistance, little by little, until it dripped away entirely.
He led me through the steps, a conversation without words. “What does it feel like, Summer?” he asked, voice rich with an understanding that made me want to reveal everything.
I closed my eyes, trusting him to keep me safe from falling. “I don’t know,” I said, barely convincing even myself. “Exposed. Like I’m losing... something.” I struggled to explain it, the sense of surrender that came with letting someone else in. I thought of all the years I’d kept my guard so carefully intact, convinced it was the only way to survive. But here, with Anders, the armor seemed more like a cage.
His fingers curled more firmly around my arm. I didn’t flinch. Couldn’t. The panic that had been rising ebbed, tethered to the warmth of his touch.
“What are you afraid of losing?” His voice was low, soothing. He waited, unhurried, the silence between us softer than any comfort I could name.
My voice grew steadier as we danced, finding its rhythm. “Myself,” I confessed, the word hanging in the air like the last note of a song. “But I think I’m finding something else.” I didn’t know what that meant, not yet. But I could feel it, just at the edges of who I thought I was. The admission shocked me, a stark honesty that was both frightening and exhilarating.
The movements became softer as I leaned into him. Each touch sent tremors through me, real and undeniable. Anders was a constant, an unfaltering presence that made the empty spaces inside me feel less hollow.
“We’re not meant to be alone,” he whispered, his breath warm on my skin. “Even when we think it’s safer.”
I heard the unspoken words behind his own. What he didn’t say was just as loud. Maybe louder. My eyes opened, meeting his, and I found something there I hadn’t expected. Acceptance. Of me, of my scars, of everything I wasn’t ready to believe about myself.
The dance shifted, becoming something alive and raw. Anders listened with more than his ears, with the entirety of his being, and it left me defenseless in the best possible way.
I spoke of my past; fragments I hadn’t intended to share. The fear of losing my parents, the terror of being alone, the way I’d run from every bond that tried to hold me. It poured out in an unexpected rush. Despite that, Anders was there, never pulling back, never giving less than everything.
He offered insights, words that resonated with truths I was only beginning to understand. “It’s okay to be cautious,” he told me, the strength of his voice matching the strength of his hold. “But don’t let it stop you from living.”
Living. I wasn’t sure I remembered how, but he made me want to try... they all did. I spoke of hope, quiet and tentative, a future I’d barely let myself imagine. He listened, nodding, never once dismissing the depth of what I felt.
The studio filled with our shared scent. It made the air thick, charged with possibility.
“Thank you,” I said, the words simple but carrying the weight of everything he’d given me. They felt like a beginning, the first step in a dance I wasn’t afraid of anymore.