Page 150 of Hard Knot

I’ve missed this.

To be in the arms of a partner, knowing you’re safe and that their lead will match yours, no matter the routine. Improv or not, I feel the utmost confidence that James will follow my lead and execute it marvelously.

"Hide in plain sight. What have you done? My rabbit run. Caught in the headlights."

The music shifts, the haunting strings giving way to that pulsing beat, and the transition happens so smoothly it feels like magic. James spins me out just as Carter slides in, catching my hand and pulling me into the hip-hop sequence with fluid grace.

There's no hesitation, no stumble in the rhythm, even though his entry is completely by surprise. He’s in a completely different wardrobe, baggy black dance pants with white limited edition chrome heart chains that surely cost thousands while his tank is a white mesh that mimics mine but in a more masculine way, showing not only his six-pack and muscles but contouring him perfectly with the mix of the shadows and the spotlight as we move.

Carter's street style meshes perfectly with my fusion, his raw energy complementing the classical foundation James helped establish. We move together like we've been dancing as partners our whole lives, his strength supporting my more technical elements while adding his own flair.

"And I'm bigger now. And I'm bigger now. So say my name like I'm 10 feet tall. Bow your head like I'm royal."

James rejoins us for the grand finale, and suddenly I'm dancing between them, weaving classical ballet with hip-hop into something entirely new. James catches me in a grand jeté that sends me soaring, my legs splitting perfectly in the air before Carter's there to guide me into a freeze that would make any street dancer proud with the smooth transition.

The choreography becomes a conversation between three styles – James's pure classical training, Carter's raw street power, and my fusion of both.

We create something that shouldn't work but somehow does, something that makes the music feel more alive than ever. Ourchemistry is palpable now, that even I get lost in its magnetic orbit.

You’d never think this is all being improvised on the spot, with only me really knowing the moves but never trying it with two men and different dance styles.

"And every day that I get older. I guess my blood's running colder..."

The final sequence approaches and my heart thunders against my ribs.

James lifts me one last time, sending me into a series of fouettés en tournant that spin faster and faster. Each rotation is perfect, my spot never wavering as I whip through turn after turn.

As the music reaches its crescendo, I launch into that final, impossible combination – the one only Marina Collins had mastered before. But this time, I'm not alone. James and Carter move in perfect synchronization beneath me, their movements creating a foundation for my flight.

I land in that final pose, body perfectly balanced between classical grace and urban power, while James and Carter bow low on either side of me, their positions framing my defiance like darkness cradling a flame.

The silence that follows feels different this time.

Feels earned, like a reward.

When I finally dare to look up, the first thing I notice is that the judges at the table who had previously critiqued me are looking further back, at where Holmes is sitting. I’m surprised that he’s no longer alone as the entire row is filled.

A new set of judges in his midst.

Among them, most striking of all, is the woman with purple hair from the office – her presence is like a splash of color in a monochrome world.

Then, impossibly, applause breaks out.

Not the polite, measured kind, but real applause – the kind that comes from genuine appreciation rather than obligation. Richardson, looking both stunned and somewhat pleased, bows as the woman with purple hair has not only gotten up from her spot but is walking toward the stage. He offers her the microphone at her approach, and they share a look before she’s up on the stage and drawing everyone's attention.

"For those who don't know me," she says, her voice carrying easily across the now-silent hall, "I'm Violet Martinez, former student of Hard Knot Academy and current chair of the International Alliance of Contemporary Dance Excellence – or IACDE."

The gasps from the wings are almost comical.

Everyone knows Violet Martinez – the Omega who dared to break every rule in the book and emerged triumphant. Her purple hair and signature red lips have graced magazine covers and inspired countless others to challenge the status quo, but the tabloids always made it their mission to cover up her stories.

It’s been years since I heard about her, but then again, I was staying in the part of Knot Academy where access to gossip is even harder.

"Seven years ago, I stood on this very stage," she continues, her eyes finding mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "They told me then what they're probably still telling you now – that an Omega must know their place, must perform within acceptable boundaries."

A smile curves her crimson lips.

"Clearly, some of us never learned to stay within those lines."

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