Proxima Centauri

"So wait, just ten random words?" Phoebe incredulously asked.

"Well, two sets of five, but basically, yeah," Sara corrected. "Turner knows all of them, but he's not allowed to tell anyone."

Turner's face blushed a deep red. Sara and Phoebe had not taken him up on the offer to continue the date at the karaoke bar, mostly due to Sara wishing not to explain a maniac who can wield magic, inflict transformations on other people, and host a sexually charged competition while people belted out power ballads. She could also feel herself getting more aroused by the minute as she was around Turner, and hoped that the cool air outside would help calm her.

"And who's this Emma girl again?" Phoebe wondered out loud.

"She's, well...what exactly is she to you?" Sara turned to Turner.

"Someone I knew in high school," Turner offhandedly remarked, trying to not talk about his experience on the show with his sister. "I suppose I was her mentor in a way?"

"And how did this happen to her?" Phoebe pressed.

"Another one of Kendra's transformations," Sara chuckled darkly. "C'mon, try to keep up."

Phoebe shook her head slowly. “I leave you alone for one night and suddenly you've in a magical hotel for weeks, run by a woman who hands out personality rewrites like Oprah."

They reached the entrance, the doors parting smoothly as they always did. The interior lighting washed over them in warm golds and reds, the air thick with the faint scent of perfume and something sweeter underneath.

Phoebe slowed. “Okay,” she muttered. “This place officially has some decorum.”

“Yeah,” Turner said quietly. “That’s one word for it.”

They took the elevator up in awkward silence. Sara stood between them, hands clasped in front of her, acutely aware of how close Turner was behind her. Every time the elevator shifted, she felt it; a subtle pull, an unwanted spike of heat that made her press her thighs together just a little tighter. She prayed Phoebe didn’t notice.

The doors slid open onto the penthouse floor.

Becca’s voice drifted out first, clearly talking to herself as she cleaned up something in the kitchen. “...I’m telling you, if Kendra pulls something again tonight, I swear...”

She stopped mid-sentence when she looked up. Her eyes locked onto Phoebe. Everything froze. Becca’s gaze snapped to Sara, then Turner, then back to Phoebe. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her shoulders stiffened, and a very particular kind of panic flashed across her face.

"Phoebe?" she croaked out, voice having lost all of the prior gusto behind it.

Phoebe blinked. “Hi?”

“Oh,” Becca breathed. “Oh no.”

Turner raised both hands instinctively. “Okay, before anyone panics—”

“Fucking Kendra,” Becca interrupted, dread already creeping into her voice. “This is Kendra, isn’t it? She brought someone else. She’s expanding the cast.”

“What?” Phoebe said at the same time Sara blurted, “No!”

“Oh my god,” Becca whispered. “She’s totally going to make you a contestant.”

“I am not...” Phoebe started.

“...because that’s exactly how this works,” Becca interrupted, pacing around the room like a detective uncovering a twist in a case. “She's brought in emotionally significant people. His ex. His best friend. His coworker. Yours truly.” Her eyes flicked sharply to Turner. “I thought she wasn't gonna do this. I thought this would be a step too far for her to bring a family member on here.”

"If it helps, I wasn't brought here my by own volition," Phoebe offered.

"None of us were!" Becca exclaimed, stopping in her tracks.

Sara stepped forward quickly, instinctively slipping into reassurance mode before she could stop herself. “Phoebe, it’s okay. Really. Kendra didn’t bring you here to hurt anyone.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she felt it—her voice catching, softening, taking on that warmth she couldn’t quite control anymore. The air around them seemed to thicken. Phoebe's face turned thirty different shades of red as she clenched her thighs together, eyes raising to Sara in horror.

“Sara—” she started, then stopped, eyes widening as something unfamiliar curled low in her stomach. She shifted her weight, discomfort flashing across her face before she **** herself still. “What the hell was that?”

Sara froze. She hadn’t meant to do it. She’d just… reacted. Stepped in. Reassured. The way she always did. Except now, reassurance wasn’t just reassurance anymore.

“I—I’m sorry,” Sara blurted, immediately flustered. “I didn’t mean to— I mean, I wasn’t trying to—”

Phoebe looked from Sara to Turner, then back to Sara, her expression somewhere between mortified and deeply confused. “Why,” she said slowly, “did your voice just make my brain short-circuit?”

Sara’s cheeks burned. “That’s… one of the transformations,” she admitted, shrinking in on herself. “When I’m trying to comfort someone, it kind of…does things.”

“That wasn't just, does things,” Phoebe sarcastically stated with air quotes and all. "What, what was that?"

“A sharp spike of arousal,” Becca answered bluntly. “Sometimes, she can even make people orgasm. Usually unintentionally. Trust me, you’re not special.”

“That is not reassuring,” Phoebe snapped, then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth as if she might spark it herself, eyes widening again as she braced for impact but nothing came. “Okay. Nope. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

Sara took an instinctive step back, mortified as she began to spiral. “I’m so sorry. I swear I wasn’t trying to...”

"Nope, I'm gonna stop you right there," Turner stopped Sara from letting out another word that may cross the threshold into reassuring.

“I know, Sara,” Phoebe said quickly. “I know you. If you were trying to do anything, you’d already be apologizing and crying at the same time.”

Becca folded her arms, continuing to study Phoebe as she pondered Kendra's motives. “It fades,” she said. “Just…Sara, don’t do the gentle-voice thing again. At least with Phoebe in here. When it's you and Turner, go at it, I know how the two of you...”

Sara nodded rapidly, mostly to cut off Becca from revealing more about her relationship with Turner. “I won’t. I promise.”

Phoebe took a slow breath, visibly forcing herself to reset. “Okay. Fine. Magical hotel. Personality rewrites. Whatever that was. I can deal with that. I think.”

Becca glanced between the three of them, then sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I don’t want to scare you off,” she said, voice lowering into something more practical. “But calm is a learned behavior here. You either adapt… or you spiral. I chose adapt.”

Phoebe let out a humorless laugh. “You adapted to your boyfriend being the emotional sun that an entire alternate dimension orbits around?”

“Pretty much,” Becca replied. “And before you ask, no, it wasn’t easy. Yes, I screamed. Yes, I cried. Yes, I threatened Kendra at least twice. She essentially laughed in my face both times.”

Turner winced. “She really did.”

Phoebe looked at him sharply. “And you’re just okay with all of this?”

Turner hesitated, then shrugged in that careful, overly-honest way he had. “Okay isn’t the right word. But I’m trying to do right by everyone involved. We'd staged a rebellion before, back in...well, it's not worth getting into it. Point is, we're kinda stuck here, whether we like it or not. Despite all of the problems underlying everything here, it truly is a great vacation away from real life, so I'm just trying to make the best of it.”

Sara shifted again, now leaning against Turner out of exhaustion. He brought an arm around her shoulders to hold her stable, acting more as that grounding presence that she needed more than ever with her best friend being brought here.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Phoebe mused quietly, nodding toward Sara. “You seemed to have a stronger-than-usual reaction to being around here than most people. What's up with that?”

Sara swallowed. “When I’m around Turner? Yeah, more magic that kinda ramps up on its own.” She **** a small, embarrassed smile. “I promise I’m not thinking anything inappropriate. It just… happens.”

Becca arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, nothing inappropriate.”

Sara groaned softly. “Becca.”

Becca held up both hands, standing her ground. “I’m just saying. If the hotel were grading denial, you’d get a participation ribbon.”

Sara nodded, mortified and grateful all at once. She straightened, easing out of Turner’s side just enough to give herself space, though the separation made her oddly restless. The penthouse seemed warmer than before. Or maybe that was just her.

Becca glanced toward the hallway, then back to Phoebe. “You hungry? Kendra’s food budget is absurd. Like, suspiciously good.”

Phoebe blinked. “You’re offering me snacks after telling me I might get magically horny if my friend says something nice?”

“No sense trying to cope on an empty stomach,” Becca replied lightly.

Phoebe snorted despite herself. “Okay. Fine. Dinner.”

As Becca disappeared into the kitchen, Phoebe turned her attention back to Sara, her expression softening. “Hey,” she said quietly. “You okay?”

Sara hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Just… embarrassed. I didn’t want your first impression of this place to be… that.”

Phoebe gave a small, crooked smile. “Sara, my first impression of this place was you vanishing into thin air. ‘That’ barely cracks the top five.”

Sara let out a breathy laugh, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.

Turner watched them both, relief flickering across his face. “I really am glad you’re here, Phoebe. Even if it’s weird.”

Phoebe shot him a look. “It's incredibly weird. But I’d rather be confused in person than panicking alone.”

Becca returned with a bowl of something that smelled suspiciously like cinnamon and sugar. She set it on the coffee table with a flourish. “Peace offering.”

Phoebe eyed it. “You poison this?”

“Only emotionally,” Becca retorted.

Phoebe took a bite anyway. “…Okay, that’s unfairly good.”

The four of them settled into an uneasy but functional quiet. Sara curled her fingers into Turner's side, trying to steady herself as the evening finally began to slow.

Becca sprawled out with practiced ease, one leg draped over the armrest. “Alright,” she said between bites, “ground rules for tonight. Phoebe gets my bed, I'll share with Turner and Sara. We don't need to discuss the show because you look exhausted. And Turner...”

“Yes?” he asked warily.

“You sleep. Actually sleep. If I sense even a hint of nonsense, I will personally shove you off the balcony.”

Phoebe blinked. “I like her.”

“She grows on you,” Sara said, smiling.”

Phoebe glanced around again, taking in the room more carefully this time. “So this is really where you’ve been living,” she said quietly. “For weeks.”

Sara nodded. “Yeah. It stops feeling fake after a while. Or… maybe you just stop questioning it.”

A brief silence followed, not awkward this time—just thoughtful. Phoebe leaned back, arms folded loosely. “I still don’t like that you were taken without a choice,” she said. “But… I can tell you’re not trapped. Not like I was afraid you might be.”

Sara’s chest tightened. “I’m not,” she said softly. “Confused, yes. Overstimulated, constantly. But not trapped.”

Turner’s arm tightened around her shoulders just a little, instinctive.

Phoebe clocked it—and this time, didn’t comment.

“So,” she said instead, wiping cinnamon sugar from her fingers on a napkin, “this is the part where I pretend this is a normal overnight stay, right?”

Sara shifted again, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off an invisible weight, but leaning closer into Turner all the same. The adrenaline from the last hour was finally draining, leaving behind a tired, buzzing ache. She glanced up at Turner, catching him watching her with quiet concern.

“You okay?” he murmured, careful to keep his voice neutral.

She nodded, then hesitated. “I think so. Just… a lot of feelings stacked on top of each other.”

Phoebe arched a brow. “That’s one way to put it.”

Sara smiled weakly. “I know this is overwhelming. If you want, I can… keep some distance tonight. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Phoebe studied her for a long moment. Then she sighed. “Sara, you disappearing into another dimension was uncomfortable. Everything after that is just… bonus chaos.” She paused. “Just don’t accidentally mind-melt me again, okay?”

“Deal,” Sara said quickly, relieved.

Becca pushed herself to her feet and stretched, arms over her head. “Alright. I’m calling it. Long day, interdimensional drama, surprise guest star—my social battery is fried.”

Turner nodded. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

Phoebe drifted to the other bed that Becca had indicated.

“…This bed is nicer than my apartment,” she muttered.

“Kendra does hospitality like she does everything else,” Becca replied. “Excessively.”

Sara’s throat tightened. She stepped forward and hugged Phoebe before she could overthink it. “If things get too weird, just tell me, okay?.”

Phoebe returned it, squeezing a little tighter than expected. “Okay.”

When Phoebe had settled into the bed across the room, Sara, Becca, and Turner moved toward their own space, the penthouse suddenly feeling both impossibly large and claustrophobically small. Becca collapsed onto the mattress with a dramatic sigh, stretching across the covers. Turner lowered himself beside her, careful to leave space, his arm brushing just slightly against Sara’s ass as he settled.

Sara hesitated for a moment at the foot of the bed, glancing at Turner. The closeness still made her pulse spike in ways she couldn’t fully control. She swallowed, forcing herself to take a slow, deliberate breath, and eased down next to him—but just enough to sit on the edge of the mattress, careful not to cause any skin-to-skin contact for the time being. She swung her legs over, felt Turner's legs against her own, and sighed as she resigned herself to whatever happened.

Becca, sprawled across the other side of the bed, raised her eyebrow. “You two are cute when you’re trying not to explode all over each other,” she whispered lazily, though her tone was half teasing, half warning.

"I'm not trying to..." Sara protested weakly.

Becca tilted her head, observing them like a hawk. “Yeah, I see it. That’s why I’m making sure you don't."

Sara exhaled, closing her eyes for a brief moment. For the first time in what felt like weeks, she could let herself just… be. Safe, with Turner beside her, and Phoebe not panicking on the other bed.

"I almost broke your sister," she apologetically mumbled as she rolled over to lay on top of him.

He smiled faintly as his left arm found the small of her back. “You didn’t. And… thank you. For trying to protect her.”

Sara pressed herself a little closer to Turner, letting her body find the familiar comfort she craved, though still careful not to push the boundary of skin-to-skin contact too far. Turner's hand remained steady, draped lightly across her waist. His calm, measured breathing was contagious, and slowly, the spike of tension running through her started to dull, replaced by the steady warmth of being close to someone she trusted implicitly.

“You know,” she whispered, eyes half-lidded, “this… isn’t so bad. Just… being here. Like this. Safe.”

Turner’s hand rubbed lightly against the small of her back. “Yeah. Safe’s good,” he murmured.

"Alright, this is getting a little too much," Becca added. "Quit hogging my boyfriend."

Sara grabbed onto Turner's right side, turning herself around as she nuzzled her face into his other shoulder, playfully sticking out her tongue at Becca as she did so.

Turner’s expression shifted subtly, eyes flicking from Becca to Sara and back, an almost imperceptible tension in his jaw. “Uh… Sara,” he said slowly, “you—”

Sara ignored him, grinning mischievously. “Oh, relax, you. Phoebe's probably asleep right now, and I'm just making sure I don't lose you. You know you love me.” She lightly kissed Turner as she gave Becca a look that bordered on smug, then wiggled a little closer to Turner, effectively sandwiching him between herself and Becca.

Turner’s hand tightened just slightly on her back, trying to anchor both of them without upsetting the delicate balance. He let out a soft, controlled sigh. “Sara, careful,” he murmured, tone calm but firm.

Becca froze for a heartbeat, acutely aware of how close Sara had pulled Turner toward her. Her body reacted instantly, warmth creeping low, pulse hammering. She pressed her thighs together, which had the unintended consequence of pressing herself tighter against Turner.

Becca’s grin widened. “Hmm. Not fine. Definitely not fine.” She nudged Turner lightly with her hip, teasing, “You’re making me all flustered, you know that?”

Turner cleared his throat, trying to sound unbothered, though he felt the almost unbearable weight of having both Sara and Becca close at the same time. “I’m just… sitting,” he said evenly, carefully. “Not doing anything.”

Sara's gaze flicked to him, then down to their intertwined positions on the edge of the bed. Her pulse thumped in her ears as the warmth between them became more pronounced. She let out a shaky breath, shifting onto her side and pressing her back slightly against him, trying to let some comfort in without crossing the line that she was clearly testing.

Turner cleared his throat again, careful, measured. “Sara, maybe… ease up a little? Phoebe...” he glanced at her, voice low, “...is right over there.”

Sara's grin softened slightly, and she finally eased back, giving Turner a little space while still keeping a casual hold on his other arm. “Fine,” she said, though her smirk suggested she was far from defeated. “I'll behave for tonight.”

"Thank you," Becca said as she rolled a little bit onto Turner.

For the first time that evening, Sara let herself rest.