DullBoY

The world snapped into focus with startling clarity — her head throbbing, her limbs heavy but suddenly aware. The car seat was cold against her skin, the leather creaking as Aerion adjusted the belt across her with surprising care for someone usually so rough. He didn't say anything else. Just worked efficiently — buckling her in properly before shutting the door and circling to the driver's side. The engine roared to life beneath them both — a deep growl that vibrated through her bones. Aerion glanced at her briefly once he was seated beside her… his expression unreadable in profile. Then he shifted gears and pulled out onto empty roads without a word.

Girl looked out the window, blinking, trying to focus her eyes. 'A clearing. Empty. All of Aerion's friends were gone. No cars, food, speakers. Only the smoldering coals of a fire in the middle. She squinted. Remembering that party. Dizziness. Their hands on her. That was all. Then peace. Temporary. Deceptive. Then a strange 'mojito' and… a snake?' She turned her head away from the forest, no longer red from the light, but black and empty, as if on the contrary, like an inviting void. Turning her head to the young man. "Where are your friends?" she asked. Not noticing that from a long silence her voice had become hoarse. 'She cleared her throat and felt some kind of pain? From that drink?'

Aerion's grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening for a second before he relaxed. He didn't look at her when answering — just kept his eyes fixed ahead on the dark road. "Gone," he said simply. No elaboration. No apology either. The car sped through empty streets, tires humming against asphalt. The air inside was thick with tension — something unspoken hanging between them like smoke after a fire had burned out. Her hoarse voice and obvious discomfort didn't seem to faze him… but then again, Aerion rarely showed concern unless it suited him directly.

SonTeri didn't turn away from the guy. Remembering the whole evening. 'Parties weren't her thing after all. She wondered if they were like that in Minnesota?' "What happened? I think I… fell asleep?" 'Fell asleep after that awful «mojito»? In Texas, they made it from cacti or something like that?' The feeling of fatigue from the whole evening seemed to lie on her like a heavy cloud, her muscles ached from that «dance,» her ears still felt like they were splitting because of that ringing and terrible music, like some kind of shamanic one. "Is it late already?"

Aerion exhaled through his nose — almost a laugh, but not quite. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Yeah," he confirmed, "real late." The dashboard clock glowed 2:17 AM in harsh red numbers. Outside, the world was dead silent — no cars, no people… He finally glanced at her again then — not with anger or irritation like usual — but something harder to read. Studying her face.

"Oh…" She turned her gaze forward to the window. 'Black. Everything.' "My parents will grumble," she just said.

SonTeri looked down at her clothes; green droplets on the snow‑white fabric seemed to cut her eyes. "The snake… it didn't bite me while I… was sleeping?" she asked, remembering the cold from the skin of a small snake, which was about to start strangling her. 'Why did Aerion do this? I was scared.'

The laugh that left Aerion was low, almost mocking — like the idea of a snake actually biting her was absurd. "Nah," he said, shaking his head. "That little bastard wouldn't dare. I trained him." There it was — the casual arrogance in his tone. Like even a snake knew better than to disobey him. He reached over suddenly and flicked her forehead with two fingers — more teasing than aggressive this time. "Yer fine, darlin'."

She winced slightly. Her head was splitting for some reason. "Parties are tiring," girl said quietly, trying to scratch the stain with her fingernail. "Dancing… having fun… talking. That's for people like you." SonTeri looked up at the young man. "Handsome guys. «Kings» is what they used to call them in school in Minnesota."

Aerion's smirk widened at her words — especially the part about "kings." He loved that. The comparison to royalty didn't offend him; it fed his ego. The car hummed beneath them both as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily resting near her seat — close enough that his pinky brushed her shoulder occasionally. "Kings?" he repeated with a scoff. "Nah. Kings are weak shits in crowns." His voice dripped disdain. "Dragons. That's what I am." A beat of silence passed before he added: "And yeah… parties ain't for everyone. But you did good tonight."

His praise made her chest prickle. Crimson spots appeared on her cheeks. "I tried… really," she said, finally leaving the stains on her clothes alone. She felt the young man's finger playing on her shoulder, tapping in time with the heavy metal music coming from his speaker.

Aerion's fingers stilled on her shoulder, his gaze cutting sideways to study her — the way her cheeks flushed, the quiet effort in her voice. For a split second, something unreadable flickered behind those icy blue eyes. Then he smirked again — wider this time — and abruptly turned up the music even louder. The bass rattled the car windows as some aggressive guitar riff blared through the speakers. "Tired?" he asked.

The voice sounded quiet. As if mocking. The guy didn't take his eyes off the road. Everything ahead was black, and even the moon didn't illuminate anything. 'How did he know where to go? Like magic.' She just nodded. Her head was spinning. 'Because of what? Because of everything. Everything this evening.' "Very tired. It's too late. Dad will say I'm not responsible…"

Aerion knew her father, a military pilot. A bit strict, but of course his daughter loved him. Aerion approved. He could handle him, pretend to be a diligent young man again, apologize for the delay, and swear that her daughter's virtue was safe and sound. Although… it was true. For now.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of her house. Aerion cut the engine, plunging them both into sudden silence — broken only by the distant hum of cicadas. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned toward her, studying her exhausted face for a second before swinging open his door. Cold night air rushed in as he rounded the hood to open her door too — a rare chivalrous gesture from him. "C'mon," he said gruffly, "Let's go tell Daddy Dearest why ya were out so late." There was no sarcasm this time. Just… businesslike politeness.

"Hm?…" She wanted to unfasten her belt, but Aerion got ahead of her, like a nanny. "What will you tell him?"

Aerion leaned in, his tall frame blocking the doorway as he reached across her — his scent, cigarettes, leather, and that stupidly expensive cologne, flooding her space — and clicked her seatbelt open himself. Then he straightened up and offered a hand to help her out. Not because she needed it… but because appearances mattered when meeting military fathers at midnight. "I'll tell him," he said smoothly, "that we were at a bonfire. That I drove responsible‑like."

The porch light was on — her father always left it burning when he knew she would be out late. The second Aerion's boots hit the gravel, the front door swung open. Her dad stood there in sweatpants and a faded Army t‑shirt, arms crossed. His expression wasn't angry… just tired. "SonTeri," he said calmly — then nodded at Aerion. "Aerion." Aerion gave him that charming half‑smirk — the one that made her mom sigh and say «Oh, what a polite young man» — and extended his hand for a firm shake. "Sir."

Their handshake was military — firm, brief, no‑nonsense. Aerion didn't flinch at the calluses on her dad's palms; he had shaken hands with rougher men in bar fights. Her father studied him for a long beat — assessing everything: posture, eyes, those unsettling blue ones, the fresh cigarette smell clinging to his clothes. Then… "You two have fun?" he asked dryly — a loaded question if there ever was one. Aerion didn't blink. Just tilted his head slightly and said, "Yeah, sir. Just a bonfire down by the creek." Smooth as hell.

SonTeri looked between the two men. Mom was probably already asleep. Usually she was more worried about her, but work at the base was constantly taking its toll. Dad was also almost asleep, his eyes almost drooping. She remained silent for now, letting Aerion explain himself at this late hour. Girl could barely manage to utter a word herself; her head was still a little dizzy.

Her dad's gaze flickered to the clock on his hand— 3:07 AM. His jaw tightened just a fraction, but he kept his voice level. "Three in the morning," he stated — not a question, not even an accusation. Just facts laid out like evidence. Aerion didn't panic. He met his eyes and gave that infuriatingly casual shrug of his — the one that said «Yeah? What about it?» "Time got away from us," he admitted easily. "Sorry 'bout that." No shame in his tone at all — just polite regret from someone who clearly thought staying out late was normal teenager behavior.

Her dad exhaled through his nose — long‑suffering, the sigh of a man who had dealt with too many reckless soldiers in his time. He glanced past Aerion at her, still standing awkwardly on the porch. "SonTeri," he said, "go inside. We'll talk tomorrow." A dismissal — but not angry. Just… disappointed. Then he looked back at Aerion. The air shifted — something heavier settling between them now that it was just men talking. Aerion braced himself slightly; this was where things could get interesting — or ugly.

Girl suddenly turned on, as if she had lost herself, distracted by the wallpaper behind her father. "Oh…" She turned to the boy. "Um… bye?" SonTeri awkwardly waved her hand at the boy, feeling like her legs hadn't woken up yet after the fire.

Aerion knew the limits, knew how to play. He simply approached the wobbly girl and made one move. A virginal kiss on the temple. His eyes never left her father's face. The kiss was chaste — just his lips brushing lightly against her temple. A fleeting, respectful gesture that said «I'm decent» without words. And all while he kept his icy blue eyes locked onto her father's face — unflinching. It wasn't a challenge… but it was a statement: «See? I can be proper when it matters.» Aerion pulled back quickly after, stepping away to give her space — but not before giving the smallest nod to her dad. The silent «I'll bring her home safe next time» sealed with body language alone.

"Oh…" SonTeri just looked up sluggishly. It was like that post‑bonfire feeling was coming back to her. Or maybe she just wanted to sleep. She inhaled the last drops of his cologne when he pulled away. She should go home, she knew. But for some reason her body didn't obey. Her leg couldn't take a step toward the stairs. Her eyelids felt like they would fall down right here. And suddenly she felt a heavy, calloused hand on her shoulder. Daddy pulled her, gently pushing her toward the doorway.

"Bye, Aerion… and your cologne…" girl said, for some it was just tired, for others it was sluggish. 'She felt strange… again?' Daddy nodded to the boy; he hadn't done anything perverted or criminal, but for some reason the vein on his neck still stood out slightly, just slightly. He nodded to him goodbye, mumbling some thanks and that it was time for his little one to go to bed.

The man's last nod. The closing door. The father's sniffed her. 'Not a single scent of alcohol.' He must really want to sleep. He looked his daughter up and down. She had soiled her white clothes. A soft chuckle. 'Untidy. Just like when she was a child.' He sent her upstairs to her room. He sat down in the chair, some more soda and a weird cowboy show, then bed. Slow, barely audible footsteps, heard overhead, one crash, as if they were stumbling. And the slamming door. The female part of his family was asleep. In his home. He could rest easy. Could?

—

Her head throbbed. The darkness slowly disappeared. Girl opened her eyes. Her room. She lifted her head, then her chest, then her torso. 'God. Her head hurt so much.' She brushed her eyes and finally opened them completely. 'Yesterday. What had happened yesterday?' She looked down. She had fallen asleep in her street clothes. White shirt, white shorts, dirty. 'Oh yeah… Aerion's party. She only remembered bits and pieces, which was strange. But just the mention of it evoked some kind of feeling in her chest. What was there? Like… dancing and… his friends? Probably so.' She slowly got off the bed and, changing into clean house clothes, went to the bathroom. Sounds were heard from the first floor. But not loud as usual and not even… those strange ones. Only the quiet sounds of the TV and some rustling of a busy person. 'Dad, probably.' She closed the bathroom door.

The shower water was hot — almost scalding — but it felt good, washing away the grime from last night. The dirt from her clothes, the scent of firewood and sweat clinging to her skin… all of it rinsed down the drain. She took her time: shampooing twice, scrubbing every inch like she was trying to erase something deeper than just physical stains. When she finally stepped out… everything felt cleaner.

She went downstairs, almost falling on the step. In ordinary clothes with wet hair. Remembering that last night she had come home a couple of hours later than curfew. She carefully peeked out from the wall by the stairs. The TV was on in the living room, but her father was not there… her gaze went further. The kitchen… He was standing there over the table and cleaning his gun… He only cleaned it on Mondays. It was not a Monday. 'What had happened… Oh… He must be angry?' Her stomach growled. And she decided to go out and meet the hurricane. "Hey, Daddy, good morning..." She looked at the clock on the wall; it was already noon. She heard the sound of a tractor. 'Had Aerion been working since this morning despite yesterday's drunken party? And where was Mom?'

Her father didn't look up immediately — his focus was entirely on the gun in his hands, methodically disassembling it with practiced motions. The metallic clicks filled the kitchen silence. At her greeting, he finally lifted his head. His expression wasn't explosive — but it wasn't warm either. Just… controlled anger. "Morning," he said flatly — no "good" attached to it. The smell of coffee hung heavy in the air. In the hallway, there were flower pots pulled out of the utility room; Mom was probably in the garden sorting out her flowers, which she wanted to grow in the yard like «real local Texas wives» to fit in.

She awkwardly walked past her father, opening the refrigerator. The cold hit her face sharply, but stopped the throbbing of her head. For a moment. Until she took out the eggs and milk. She started making an omelet. The frying pan sizzled. She could hear the clicking of a gun. And birds outside the window. They were silent.

The sizzle of butter in the pan filled the kitchen — normal, domestic. The birds chirped outside, completely unaware of any tension inside. Her father's gun cleaning continued with rhythmic precision — clicks and small metallic sounds as he took apart each piece to clean it properly. He didn't speak… but his silence wasn't empty. It was heavy. The smell of cooking eggs mixed with coffee and gun oil — a weirdly masculine combo.

SonTeri sat down at the table with a plate and mug. Right in front of her father. The dishes were almost a couple of millimeters away from touching the parts of the gun. She looked up without even putting a bite in her mouth. "Mom forbade you to do this in the kitchen." Simple voice. Without reproach. Just to say something.

The father stopped and sat down on the chair in front of her. The chair creaked under his weight as he settled across from her. For a moment, neither of them moved — just staring at each other over the table. Then, without warning… her father reached out and slowly pushed the plate closer to him. He picked up her fork — not asking — and cut a piece of omelet himself. It wasn't an angry gesture. Not cold either. Just… something quiet between father and daughter that didn't need words yet.

"Are you angry?" she asked.

Her father chewed slowly, swallowing before answering. His expression was hard to read — somewhere between stern and something softer. "Yeah," he finally said, "I was worried." A simple admission. No yelling, no lecture yet — just the raw truth of a parent who waited up too long in silence.

Her father's eyes flicked up to hers, assessing her for a long moment. The anger that might have been there earlier seemed… quieter now. He exhaled through his nose and stabbed another bite of omelet with the fork — this time, he pushed it back toward her plate instead of eating it himself. "Just don't do it again," he muttered — not harshly, just tired.

"Yes… sorry," SonTeri said.

Her father's stern expression softened — just a fraction. He nodded once, accepting her apology without fanfare. Then he did something unexpected: he reached across the table and ruffled her hair lightly with his calloused hand — a rare gesture of affection from him. "Eat," he said gruffly, standing up and continuing to clean the gun. While she ate and he stood there, a comfortable silence reigned in the kitchen. And even her throbbing head stopped hurting.

𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸

𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸

SonTeri tripped over a large stone, crouched down, examined the stone, and continued on. The sun followed her every step, mocking the beads of sweat on her bronze skin. She decided to take a walk, although by «walk» she meant wandering alone through unfamiliar land just beyond the forest. Her parents were busy with household chores, and she was a teenager without school; even in Texas, she needed to keep herself occupied. After yesterday and this morning, her head had stopped pounding, and the strange, sharp images of the fire and people had stopped appearing before her eyes, though her throat still felt scratchy for some reason. 'Normally, she wouldn't even leave the house, in case she… «met one of them»… but… her parents were home with her, and Aerion… well, he was nearby too.' Wiping the sweat from her forehead and adjusting her glasses, which were sliding down from her wet face, she saw a beautiful spider.

The spider was delicate — its web glistening with morning dew, strands catching the sunlight like tiny diamonds. SonTeri froze, mesmerized. It wasn't a scary spider. Just small… peaceful in its own world of silk and patience. She crouched lower, careful not to disturb the web as she studied it. The air around her smelled like earth and wildflowers — a rare moment of quiet beauty before life got complicated again.

'I wonder if it bites? If so, maybe I'll become a mutant… or die from the poison… Will Aerion cry? It would be romantic…' Girl extended a thin finger to the spider, but it only crawled away from her, noticing a small fly in the web, starting to spin it. 'Oh my god… poor thing… why did it climb into the web… doesn't it know that spiders live here?…' She felt sorry for the fly… Girl turned away, getting up from her seat… 'She couldn't help, she wasn't God… and not Mother Nature either.' She went further for a walk.

The forest thickened as she walked — trees grew taller, the undergrowth denser. The air was cooler here, dappled sunlight filtering through leaves. She wasn't lost… not yet. But this part of the woods felt unfamiliar — like a place people rarely wandered into. A twig snapped somewhere to her left.

She turned her head sharply towards the sound. 'No… just the wind…' girl told herself. 'The loneliness was gone, there was no reason for my brain to trick me again with strange… «thoughts»… and I didn't want to go to a psychologist… I would have to discuss this with my parents… and there are no psychologists here… in this hole.' But just in case, she walked one percent faster. At worst, it would be a doe…

The rustling came again — closer this time. Not wind. Too rhythmic, too deliberate. Then — a shadow moved between the trees ahead. Too tall to be a deer. Too quiet for an animal with hooves. A person? A stranger in these woods?

She didn't stop. No. Her steps became faster and her sneakers stumbled over the stones more. And suddenly she remembered that party… those hands, those… his friends. SonTeri wanted to be alone… a forest without a fire and that… music, decided to take a break… enjoy nature… it would help avoid paranoia. But she looked around the forest… very beautiful grass, sticks, pebbles and squirrels… trees that seemed to… have eyes. She walked from the thought of eyes; she felt uneasy. Girl couldn't stop imagining them now, damn artistic vision… it shot through her head… a red fire and those drums in party music… also heard the rustling again. 'She didn't care now. Even if it was her imagination, even if it was Jesus himself… she ran. As far as possible.'Girl didn't hear anything else. Not a rustle, not a crackle, not a bird. While she ran, only the noise of the drum from the speakers and the laughter of people rang in her ears. The wind from running blew around her, causing her sweat to freeze and a chill ran across her skin.

RUN.

RUN.

RUN.

RUN.

RUN.

RUN.

STONE.

DOWN.

She screamed when she tripped and rolled down some kind of hole. Dirt and earth stuck in her black hair, her glasses flew off and she landed in a dark hole. The height was not great, but she should have watched where she was running.

SonTeri got up, the skin was not torn, but it was quite painful. Her clothes, she admitted, were initially not very clean from paints and all that, but now they were exactly like Aerion's work clothes. She sat up. 'Oh my God…' She felt for her glasses, put them on and saw darkness. Raising her head she saw light. 'Is this a hole? Fom who? A mole or… a rabbit?' Girl tried to get up, but ran into loose, almost damp earth. SonTeri was not tall, but now she felt like a real giant. The size of the hole made her feel sick, her breathing became heavy, and it seemed that someone would look into the hole now. Seeing a passage ahead, she crawled forward… dirt fell on the top of her head and eyes. 'God… God… I don't want to die in a hole… it's not romantic… and worms and moles will eat me.' And then she saw a light ahead, a light like sunlight.

The light grew brighter as she crawled — dirt clinging to her clothes, knees scraping against the damp earth. The passage wasn't wide, barely enough for her small frame to squeeze through. And then — she burst into daylight.

—

Having climbed out, she cleared her throat, taking a deep breath. Her head was spinning and it seemed like she was about to fall right there, possibly dead from claustrophobia. Then she saw something strange. 'It… a building?' The building was probably the size of a two‑story brick house in Minnesota, gray with a black rounded roof, the door was large and black with strange scaly details. The windows were gilded and around there was some kind of… garden of bushes and even a bench… forests surrounded. SonTeri didn't know how far she was from the fields and ranch of the Targaryens. But there was only forest around and not even a fence of the territory was visible. Her gaze caught something familiar above the doors… a stone carving… a red three‑headed dragon… she had seen it somewhere… she couldn't remember. Her breathing had almost normalized and her head was almost not spinning, shaking off her clothes and hair, she, grimy with chewed palms and scratched knees, walked towards this… building.

The massive structure loomed before her — ancient, imposing. The black gate stood slightly ajar, as if waiting. SonTeri hesitated only for a second before stepping forward. Her sneakers crunched on the gravel path leading up to it. The air smelled different here — less pine and earth, more like… smoke? Incense? A breeze stirred the leaves as she approached that carved dragon head — the three heads snarling in stone silence.

She walked in. Inside, everything was even… more sophisticated? Dark walls, a red carpet, and… surprisingly huge bookcases with endless books… strange portraits everywhere and it seemed like there was no one here? Girl took off her sneakers at the entrance and walked on. Maybe before she would have been afraid to violate someone's personal property, but now this place seemed to fascinate her. Clearing her throat, she went inside, not noticing the fresh flames of the candles on the table near the first cabinet.

The candles flickered to life as she passed — casting long shadows across the portraits on the walls. Faces of stern men and women stared down at her, their painted eyes following her every move. Beyond the first cabinet, a grand staircase curled upward — its banister gleaming with polished wood. The house was silent… eerily so. But then — a sound. Faint footsteps from above.

SonTeri stopped in front of a large bookcase, reading the titles of the books, not touching them yet, as it would be inappropriate. Not hearing footsteps above, she admired the beauty of the book covers.

The books were old — bound in leather, their spines cracked with age. Some had titles she recognized: history, philosophy… but others were written in languages she didn't know. One caught her eye — a thick volume with a faded silver insignia on the cover: three intertwined serpents. A chill ran down her spine as she stared at it.

And finally hearing only the last dull step, which was already on the last step, she sharply turned her head and saw...

"...Aerion?"

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed. Dressed differently now — no overalls, no grease stains. Just a dark button‑down shirt rolled to his elbows and tailored slacks. His blue eyes locked onto hers instantly — sharp, assessing. The firelight from unseen candles danced across his face as he studied her reaction.

"What… are you doing here?" she asked.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took slow steps toward her — each one measured, deliberate. Then, stopping just an arm's length away… he tilted his head slightly. "You came," he said simply. Not a question. A statement. The corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but something close to approval.

"I…" SonTeri was surprised to see him here. Looking him up and down, she assessed his appearance. Aerion was surprised by her appearance. 'Like a pig wallowing in mud.' "...I was crawling in a hole and came across…… w‑ what are you doing here?" girl repeated, still in shock and surprise.

Aerion glanced at the girl. Wrinkling his nose at her appearance, he approached the table next to the cabinet, as if nothing strange was happening here, looking at the open tome, on which the candlelight cast a shadow, as if there was no light in this building. "I'm reading," the young man answered simply, turning the page. "'Dance of the Dragons'... hm... an interesting story," he says without raising his head from the book.

"You... reading…?" the girl couldn't believe it, she seemed to be in a bad dream, looking around the huge hall again, she returned her gaze to the young man. "Is this… a library?"

The air in the library was thick with dust and the faint scent of old parchment. The room was vast — walls lined floor to ceiling with ancient tomes bound in leather. A single chandelier hung from a high ceiling, its candles casting flickering shadows over towering bookshelves. Aerion didn't look up as she spoke. He turned another page calmly, his blue eyes scanning the text like this was completely normal — a man reading quietly while his girlfriend stood there covered in dirt after crawling out of some hole. When she asked if it was a library, he exhaled through his nose — almost amused by her shock — and finally lifted his gaze. "Yeah," he said flatly. "My family's."

"Families…?" she raised an eyebrow. She didn't recall any of their neighbors ever talking about it. "Mr. Maekar didn't say anything–…" Aerion turned his head sharply to face her. "Of course… it's only for dragons, you fool," he spoke quickly, but seeing her shocked face, something seemed to click in him – Party. "I'm sorry, darlin'…" he says, almost genuinely approaching her. "Ya're now… too… with us… with me." He says, his eyes widening, but not from fear, as if filled with obsession.

"What?" only the dirty girl said.

Aerion only raised the corner of his lips, making a single sound… like a grin. "Our… you… you can… even though you're not a dragon, you're with me now… always."

The girl frowned, trying to understand if she really hit her head that hard when she fell. But before she could ask the guy, he turned his attention to her appearance.

"What happened? Did a bear attack you?" he began to shake the dirt off her in a sweet, gentlemanly manner, pulling pieces of earth out of her hair.

"No, I fell into a hole… I… I think I was just inattentive." She kept silent about those feelings and thoughts in forest.

Aerion's expression shifted — just slightly — as he brushed dirt from her hair. The gentleness didn't last. His fingers stilled in her curls when she admitted to being careless. 'Not paying attention? Falling into a hole like some clumsy child?' The sweetness evaporated. His jaw tightened. His eyes — those icy, obsessive blue eyes — darkened with something quiet and dangerous: disapproval. "Inattentive?" he repeated slowly, voice dropping low — not shouting, but worse. "You could've gotten hurt." A pause. "Or died."

Before she could answer, he grabbed her wrist. "Come on, you came so I could show you something." He stomped up the stairs, throwing the open book down and pulling her along with him. She tried to keep up with him, her feet treading on the soft carpet.

The grand staircase spiraled upward, the air growing hotter with each step. Aerion didn't slow — his grip on her wrist was firm, almost punishing in its insistence. At the top stood a heavy oak door carved with dragons entwined — half‑burned by candlelight. He flung it open without ceremony and pulled her inside. The room was massive — a private study lit only by firelight from an ornate hearth. Maps of the USA lined one wall; portraits of pale‑faced nobles stared down from another. In the center stood a low table where an ancient‑looking book lay open... Aerion released her wrist at last.

Without a word, Aerion strode to the table and placed both hands on either side of the open book. The firelight flickered across his sharp features, casting shadows that made him look almost inhuman. He didn't sit. Didn't invite her to sit. Instead, he pointed at an illustration — a man with blonde hair mounted on a horse above ruins. "Aegon," he said simply. His voice was low, reverent… but edged with something darker: pride. "The First Targaryen President." A pause. Then he turned his head slightly — those piercing blue eyes locking onto hers.

"Pre-sident?..." SonTeri certainly hadn't studied history much, but… she definitely didn't remember Aerion's ancestors listed in the US Presidents section of her textbooks. Looking deeper into his gaze, she saw only absolute faith in his own words. She remained silent for now.

Aerion's lips curled — almost a smile, but not quite. More like the expression of someone who knows he holds all the cards. He turned fully toward her now, abandoning the book for a moment. The fire cast long shadows behind him, making his silhouette look regal… mythic. "Yeah," he said slowly, "President Aegon Targaryen. Founded this country." A beat. "Our family built America." His tone left no room for debate.

Aerion studied her face — searching for disbelief, mockery… anything. But finding none, his expression softened slightly. Not kindness — never that — but something close to satisfaction. He walked back to the table and tapped the illustration again with one finger. "The others," he said, "They didn't matter. Just businessmen." A dismissive wave of his hand. "Our bloodline is royal."

SonTeri swallowed. For some reason, she was afraid to come closer to even read what was written in the book, since Aerion was spouting such… nonsense. "You said that your ancestors built this city, yes, but… the president of the country, Aerion? Are you kidding?" The girl said skeptically, feeling as if he was crazy.

Aerion's face darkened instantly — like a storm rolling in. He didn't laugh. Didn't smirk. The word "kidding" struck him like an insult to his entire bloodline. In two strides, he closed the distance between them and grabbed her chin — not painfully, but with enough force to make sure she couldn't look away. "No," he said, voice low and dangerous, "I'm not kidding." His blue eyes burned into hers — a fanatic's conviction on full display.

"I… I thought you were ours… you were at the party," he says as if not even to her but to himself. "Ya have to understand that this." He waved his hand, indicating the entire hall. "The history of my family… ya… do ya understand? The whole world was ours… was Aegon the Conqueror's, his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys… was… would have been… mine…" His voice is quiet, almost breaking on the last word.

"There was treason… those shitty old men in suits thought we were mad… that a nuclear void was coming closer with a dragon at the helm… they… they took… took everything from us… after the incident with the bitch Rhaenyra and his brother… took our crown… changed history by changing names… the name Targaryen remains only in the mouths of the people of this town and in these dry books." The young man babbled, squeezing her face tighter and tighter, his eyes, blue as death, turned into twilight violets in the shadow of the candles.

His lips moved and moved, the words flying out of his mouth. SonTeri was stunned, she tried to understand the truth, tried to understand what he was talking about, wincing in pain, she could only listen and look madness in the eyes.

The pain in her chin was sharp, but the terror was sharper — the way his pupils swallowed his irises, how his breath came too fast and uneven. This wasn't just obsession. This was a man who had rewired reality in his head. Aerion didn't seem to notice her discomfort — or if he did, he didn't care. His monologue spiraled further into delusion: "They buried our legacy under lies," he whispered, "But I remember." His grip loosened slightly as nostalgia overtook rage. "I dream of dragons… I hear them roar when it storms…" Then — abruptly — he released her face and turned away, walking to the far wall where a massive oil painting hung: A Targaryen king on horseback with three dragons circling above him.

SonTeri inhaled when he let go; she hadn't even noticed she'd been holding her breath. Glancing at his back, she finally spoke. "So you… you're saying that… you're some grandson of the president of… the country?" skepticism never left her lips or face. SonTeri glanced around the hall again; there really were paintings of people with people who looked like Aerion, they really were all serious, and some of the oldest ones were even wearing royal robes… 'Aerion couldn't have made in mind all this himself… Right?'

Aerion's jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring like an irritated bull. The disbelief in her eyes — that look — that pissed him off more than any insult. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward a side door. It led to a smaller chamber: a private study cluttered with genealogy charts, old photographs… and one massive framed document at the center of the room. "See that?" He shoved SonTeri forward. "That's my bloodline certificate." The paper was yellowed with age — official‑looking seals still intact. At the top? His grandfather's name... followed by generations of Targaryens down to Aerion himself.

Girl widened her eyes… all these things in this place… she didn't know what to think, her head was spinning. "Aerion… history… the... the whole country doesn't even know you… you're saying they changed everything?" she wished she sounded less skeptical.

Aerion's expression darkened — her skepticism was a personal insult. He snatched the certificate off the wall and shoved it into her hands. "They buried us," he hissed, "Wiped our names from textbooks, called my family traitors. But look!" He stabbed a finger at one photograph: a regal man with silver hair — the spitting image of Aerion — but dressed in military uniform, flanked by politicians who looked… familiar. His voice dropped to a venomous whisper: "My great‑grandfather was Prime Minister before they 'exposed' him for treason. They shot him in this house."

SonTeri held the certificate in her shaking hands. 'Oh. My. God.' She didn't know how to react. "I… I…" The paper is old… and thick, she ran her fingers over the notes. She couldn't speak.

Aerion watched her face like a hawk, searching for the exact moment it would click — the realization, the fear, the respect he demanded. The silence stretched. His breathing was loud in his own ears. Then — finally — her fingers trembled against the parchment. He stepped closer, crowding her against a bookshelf. Not touching yet… just looming over her with those piercing blue eyes that now glowed with something fanatical and desperate: "Say it." A command. "Say you believe me."

SonTeri just sat down, that is, almost fell to the ground. Her legs were buckling and the energy from the shock seemed to leave her. "Why… why Mister Maekar… Daeron… why didn't they say that?" she can't take her eyes off the parchment; it looks like it's over a hundred years old. "I… I can't believe it…"

The moment she spoke — doubted his ancestors, questioned their silence — Aerion's expression twisted into something ugly. His face darkened like a storm rolling in. He snatched the parchment from her hands and slammed it back onto the desk with a force that made the books rattle on their shelves. Then he grabbed her by both arms, yanking her up to face him. His grip was iron — painful — and his voice dropped to a venomous whisper: "Ya think they didn't say anything because it wasn't true?" A humorless smirk curled at his lips. "No. They hid it… 'cause they were afraid of what would happen if people found out."

"I'm not afraid. I'm not like them, I told you. I'm a dragon. I… I'll fix everything. I can do it. They're with me…" he says manically. "And you… you will be with me… I… I'm not disappointed that you're not fair‑haired and light‑eyed like me. Everything is fine, my genes are strong, don't be afraid." he peering with crazy eyes into her distant gaze. It seemed she was still in shock.

Then the way he cupped her face change, almost tender — if tenderness could coexist with madness. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, possessive and feverish, as if memorizing every inch of her features. His voice was a hushed frenzy — a sermon wrapped in obsession: "You'll carry our bloodline. Our legacy. A true dragon… not like the others who forgot what they were." He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard. "No one will stop us now." Then suddenly — without warning — Aerion kissed her again. Not gentle or sweet... desperate and consuming, like a man starved for proof that she belonged to him completely.

SonTeri suddenly came to her senses. Her eyes wide, she didn't even notice how his tongue was inside her. Pushing him away with barely noticeable hands, she pulled away. "Aerion, this is… madness." It seems she didn't hear his last words, while in a trance from thoughts of his ancestors.

"If… if the Targaryens created the USA, why… why don't you report it on the news?" She crawled away from him, still in shock, looking into his eyes. "Why… why Mr. Maekar… and the whole world… Do... do your friends know? Why–…" girl can't stop her mouth, shock dominating her entire body. This is all unexpected… she wouldn't want to know all of this. She thinks it would be better if this was a big prank from him.

Aerion's face contorted — first in confusion, then in fury. The rejection of his kiss, the disbelief in her voice… it sparked something violent inside him. He didn't let her crawl far. In one swift motion, he grabbed her ankle and yanked her back toward him with brutal force. Looming over her now, his blue eyes burned like wildfire — no longer love or even obsession… just rage at being questioned by someone he deemed his.

"Ya don't get to call me mad," he snarled through clenched teeth, "when yer standing on sacred ground." The truth was too vast for a mind that had only ever known history as taught — not whispered through bloodlines like this one. His friends knew because they were chosen… and she? She was supposed to be part of that now.

She screamed when he grabbed her. "Aerion stop… I… I want to go home…." Girl says in a breaking voice. "This is too much for me…"

Aerion exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to soften his expression — just barely. He couldn't afford for her panic to unravel everything. His voice dropped into something smoother… manipulative in its calmness: "Hey… hey, look at me." He waited until their eyes met. "I know it's a lot. I get that." A pause — then he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with deceptive gentleness. "But this? This is our secret now. No one else needs to know yet... not until the time's right."

"What…?" she tries to come to her senses. 'All this heat, cold sweat on her forehead… all these people with the faces of Aerion and Mister Maekar hanging on the walls… she feels like she's going to throw up.' "But… but if this is true, the whole world should know about it?… or is it a lie?"

Aerion's jaw tightened — her confusion was genuine, not defiance. That made this harder. He sat down right in front of her, close but careful not to crowd. His tone turned almost… educational? Like a teacher explaining something sacred to a child. "It's true," he said firmly. "Every word." Then his expression darkened slightly. "But the world isn't ready for it yet. Governments would burn our houses down just for knowing we 'warming up' something." A beat. "So we protect it… quietly."

"But… but why are you the only one worried about this?", Her voice sounded like that of another person, she looked into his eyes as if looking for the truth, or confirmation that it was a lie.

Aerion's lips thinned — she was sharp today. Too sharp for his liking. He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper: "Because I'm the only one who knows how to keep it safe." A flicker of something dangerous passed through his eyes before he forced another gentle smile: "The others? They're loyal… but they don't need details. Just orders." His thumb brushed her knee — possessive.

She blinked rapidly… 'Is this Texas guy messing with her?' "Why… why are you telling me? About… everything?"

Aerion studied her — her wide eyes, the way she searched his face for deception. For once, he wasn't lying… just omitting. He exhaled slowly, then cupped her face with rough hands — surprisingly tender for a man who usually grabbed like a vise. "Because you're mine," he said simply. "And if you want to be with me, you need to understand what that means." Then, softer: "You trust me… right?"

"I…" girl hesitates, as if melting under the heat emanating from him. Taking a last look at the paintings, as if they, too, were waiting for an answer, she looked at the floor. 'No. No. She won't be able to do this… she won't be able to believe it.' SonTeri looked up at Aerion's sharp features. "Y‑yes?…"

The hesitation — tiny as it was — sent a spark of irritation through him. He hated uncertainty. Aerion's thumb pressed against her bottom lip, tilting her chin up to force eye contact. His gaze burned with intensity. "Say it like you mean it," he murmured — not angry yet, but close. Behind them, the firelight cast long shadows of his ancestors over their faces… watching this moment where his chosen woman would either step into destiny… or break his trust.

"Aerion, I… I know you wouldn't make this up…" she says, moving her head forward as if clinging to his hand. Like a cat.

The way she nuzzled into his touch — hesitant but seeking reassurance — unclenched something in him. Not quite softness, but approval. Aerion's thumb stroked her lip once before he pulled her into a sudden kiss: firm, claiming, final. No more questions allowed. When he broke away, his voice was low and graveled with emotion: "That's my girl." Possessive. "Y'll learn everything… I swear it."

SonTeri just looked down at the saliva that connected their lips. She sat on this floor like a rag doll. 'All this… all this information seemed to be tearing her head apart.' She looked down at her dirty clothes. What are the chances that she's just sleeping? "Aerion, let's go home?… I'm dirty," girl only says quietly.

He heard the quiet plea in her voice — the exhaustion, the unspoken distress. But to Aerion, her fragility wasn't something to comfort. It was a weakness to exploit. Without a word, he grabbed her wrist — tight enough that his callouses bit into her skin — and yanked her up from the floor like she weighed nothing. "Home," he said flatly, not offering his hand or adjusting for comfort. Just marching toward the door.

•─────⋅☾ ○ ☽⋅─────•

The sky outside her window was bright — no clouds, just endless Texas blue. A single cicada chirped. Her sketchbook sat open on her lap, half‑drawn scribbles the only proof she had even tried to draw today. Time passed slowly… too slowly. Waiting for something that might not even happen.

The silence stretched — no car engine, no footsteps. Just the hum of the AC unit outside. Aerion hadn't appeared for almost two days now. After… that moment. No knock on her door either. 'Maybe he was busy? Or maybe… something else? Or maybe that girl was right — he didn't care about her like that.'

Girl tapped her forehead with a pencil, sweat pouring from her eyes, trying to free her mind for creativity. Her gaze wandered out the window; the curtains were closed, not just from the heat and sun, but also from eyes… She could hear her parents chatting cheerfully in front of the TV downstairs.

The TV's murmur floated up — a laugh track from a sitcom. Her parents sounded relaxed. But she wasn't relaxed. The curtains blocked out everything — the sun, Aerion's possible car pulling up, even the world. Her pencil rolled between her fingers… but no inspiration came. Just sweat and that heavy, quiet dread again.

The house creaked softly — wood settling, the fridge humming. Her parents' laughter faded as a commercial came on. She was alone with her thoughts. The bandage on her finger had dried now, but it still felt stiff… foreign. Aerion hadn't come. Two days of radio silence — and it was gnawing at her.

As soon as she had made a few strokes on the white sheet of paper, she immersed herself in her own world of drawing, which usually drew her in if she did manage to start drawing. Lines and strokes began to appear on the white background, transforming into something new in this world. She didn't know how much time passed, but lounging on the bed in the heat, immersed in the action as if in a trance, she heard a knock on the door.

Then Mom called up: "Honey, Aerion's downstairs!" Mom sounded pleased, like this was a normal happy thing. Like he wasn't the guy who… did things. The guy that girl had warned her about, bht she also didn't know about that. Her tone was light — clueless to the storm in her chest right now. Her heart lurched — 'Aerion here?'

A beat of silence. "Oh… um," she put down her notebook. "Yeah, I… I'll be down soon," she said to her mom outside the door. Glancing at the bandaged finger, then at the window.

Mom nodded — her footsteps retreated down the hall. SonTeri was alone again. For a minute. Aerion was downstairs. In her house. Her parents were probably being nice, offering him lemonade or something. Her stomach flipped — nerves? Dread? Anticipation? She didn't know… but she couldn't hide up here forever.

She walked down the stairs, quietly adjusting her shirt, seeing Aerion sitting in the living room in his typical jeans and a T‑shirt. Her father sat next to him, hospitable, but it was clear that he was trying to keep a straight face. Her mother poured him lemonade with a smile. "Hey…" she awkwardly greeted the guy, as if every day she forgot that he was her 'boyfriend.'

Aerion turned at the sound of her voice. His face was unreadable for a second — then he smiled. Not his usual smirk, but something softer. Fake? Genuine? "Hey," he said, standing up. "Your mom's lemonade is good." A small talk attempt — weirdly polite for him in front of his parents and hers.

Aerion stepped towards her — close enough to kiss, but he didn't. Just a polite half‑hug. The kind you'd give a neighbor, not your girlfriend. Her dad watched this interaction carefully. Mom just smiled obliviously. Aerion pulled back and nodded at her face. "Let's mosey?"

"Mosey?" She was still in a trance, looking up at the young man, not understanding his southern words. He still had his palms on her. 'It was strange… boyfriend… in front of my parents.'

Aerion chuckled — low, almost amused by her confusion. He kept his hands on her shoulders. "Walk," he clarified, drawling the word extra slow for her. "Let's go outside." Her dad cleared his throat — not hostile but clearly listening. Mom gave Aerion a polite smile.

"Oh…" She looked at her parents. "I'll be there by evening," she said, while Aerion was already leading her to the hallway, putting on his pointy boots, saying goodbye to her parents along the way.

Mom waved — cheerful. "Have fun!" Her dad just nodded, arms crossed. He didn't say anything, but his eyes tracked Aerion as the guy led her out. Aerion held the door open for her — chivalrous in a way that felt weirdly performative.The Texas heat hit her again as soon as she stepped onto the porch.

They stepped out into the scorching street; the rays immediately caught her face and hands. It was hot in her jeans. Aerion stomped off somewhere, lounging; she quickly followed him, fiddling with the bandage on her finger. She didn't know what to say; those events, and the girl's words from yesterday, were spinning in her head… as if… she had seen the light and now she seriously understood what she had gotten herself into… she hadn't known that a romantic relationship would be like this.

They walked toward the forest, toward the iron fences, far from their homes and his father's fields, but still within the property. He sat down on a huge tree trunk that lay horizontally on the ground, like a stricken warrior. Lighting a cigarette and casually blowing rings, he asked, "Did you like it?" looking into her eyes. "Huh?" she didn't immediately understand, not having recovered from the day's separation.

Aerion studied her dazed face — the way she was staring through him like he was a stranger. The cigarette smoke curled between them, thin and ghostly. He repeated himself, slower this time: "Did. You. Like. It?" Each word was deliberate — low, rough with meaning. He meant the barn. Her hands on him. The mess afterward. The question wasn't sweet or curious… it was a demand for validation from his girlfriend — the one who supposedly loved him but just sat there looking guilty afterward.

"I…" SonTeri understood what he meant. She blushed slightly, remembering how Aerion had looked that day… 'she had thought about it for two days, she realized that he was handsome… even there… down there… it was strange… it was sinful but…' "You were handsome," she just blurted it out.

Aerion's cigarette stilled between his fingers. His eyebrows lifted — just slightly — at her answer. Handsome. Not I liked it. Not it felt good. Just… handsome. For a second, he didn't react. Then something flickered in his expression — not anger, not mockery… surprise? Maybe even approval? He took another slow drag of the cigarette before exhaling smoke to the side, away from her this time. No ember burned on her skin like last time. "Handsome," he repeated gruffly — testing the word in his mouth like it was foreign but not unpleasant.

The forest was quiet around them — just the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a hawk. Aerion watched her face closely, studying how she avoided his eyes after speaking. He flicked ash off his cigarette and leaned back against the tree trunk, stretching one long leg out. The tension in his shoulders eased — just a fraction. Then… he did something unexpected. Aerion lifted his free hand and brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead — the gesture almost gentle for him. His calloused fingers grazed her temple briefly before retreating to cradle the cigarette again. "What were you doing at school yesterday? I couldn't find you…" he grumbled as if complaining.

"Oh… I… Mom and I were dropping off paperwork… I'll be studying here for a year." 'I'm staying for a long time, it turns out… Is Aerion happy? Or does he not care?' "Wait, how do you know that I…" She frowned slightly and bowed her head until he interrupted her.

"School…" he interrupted her, not letting her finish her suspicious thought. "…a shitty place." He tore off a piece of grass and twisted it. "Ya will be a teacher's pet?" he snorted. "Mr. Leon will like you… ol' dick."

Aerion's eyes locked onto the bandage. His cigarette paused halfway to his lips. "What happened?" he nodded, casually, but his eyes were sharp.

"… just an accident yesterday while I was cooking." SonTeri looked down at her finger. She had been deep in thought, which was eating her up.

Aerion flicked the cigarette butt away, crushing it under his boot. Without a word, he grabbed her injured hand — turning it over to inspect the bandage. His touch wasn't rough this time. Careful. Almost clinical. He poked at the edge of the gauze with his thumb… then frowned slightly when he saw how neatly it was wrapped. "Hurts?" he asked quietly — not mocking, not angry. Interest.

"A little," she answered, looking at his face from above, the sun casting glare on his blond hair. Hearing this, Aerion smiled. 'Her hurts.'

That smile — small, barely there — was dangerous. Not cruel. Not kind either. Aerion liked that she was hurt. That something had affected her. Without warning, he lifted her injured hand and pressed his lips to the bandage — a brief kiss over the wound. It was weirdly tender for him… but still possessive. Then he released her hand and leaned back again, stretching his arms behind his head like nothing happened. "Good," he said simply.

It sounded strange, but her mind was elsewhere. She looked at her finger… remembering those very words… 'thinking whether to ask or not.' Girl turned to the stocky guy. "Aerion?" He lit a cigarette again. His bad habit… "You'll leave me?… If… if I don't…" she hesitated. "Well… that girl from school said you only want sex."

The second the words left her mouth, Aerion's entire body went still. The cigarette between his lips stopped mid‑inhale. His eyes — cold, blue ice — locked onto hers. No anger yet. Just… calculation. Like a predator deciding if this rabbit was worth chasing or crushing right here. A beat of silence. Then he exhaled smoke slowly through his nose… and finally spoke: "Who told you that?" Voice low. Deadly calm.

"Is this important?… so is it true?"

Aerion's jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. The cigarette was crushed violently between his fingers, ash scattering onto the dirt. He leaned in — close enough that she could smell tobacco and gunpowder on him — and grabbed her chin with rough, unrelenting fingers. "You don't get to ask me shit like that," he growled. Not yelling. Worse than yelling: quiet rage. "That bitch from school has nothing to do with us." His grip tightened just shy of painful — a warning press of nails into her skin.

She was surprised and almost screamed when he grabbed it, looking at him with wide eyes while he spoke.

He didn't let go. Instead, he dragged her closer by the chin until his face was inches from hers — close enough to share breath. "You think I'd be with you if all I wanted was sex?" Aerion's voice dropped even lower, a venomous whisper. "I could have any girl in this town. Any one."

"It hurt, Aerion…" She wrapped her arms around his rough, hard hand. She winced slightly and furrowed her brows, shocked by his action. She saw something in his eyes. 'Did it really bother him that much? Or did I really say something stupid? He said that I was his girlfriend… I shouldn't have listened to that blonde at all?'

Aerion just watched. 'Annoyed that this little bitch was discussing him, her boyfriend, with other barely familiar sluts.' He would squeeze harder and maybe even hit… but no, he couldn't… not yet… He looked at the complete shock in her eyes, which made his pants burn.

"Let go, Aerion…" Her voice almost broke. "I'm sorry."

For a long moment, he didn't move. His grip stayed iron‑tight — punishing. The anger in his eyes was volcanic, but beneath it… something else flickered. Then — finally — he released her with a rough shove backward. "Damn right you're sorry,"

She leaned back against the tree trunk, stroking her cheeks, still looking at Aerion in shock. "Are you angry?" she said quietly, not fully understanding what had happened. "You shouldn't do that… it's bad." She said it bluntly. 'This… wasn't what guys did? Friends didn't do that too.'

Aerion's nostrils flared. The way she was looking at him — like he was the bad guy, like he just committed some unforgivable crime by being pissed — made his blood boil. "It's bad?" He repeated her words slowly, mockingly. "You go around listening to shit from rando. about me… and I'm the one who's 'bad' for getting mad?" He took a step toward her again — not grabbing this time, but crowding into her space with pure intimidation.

Boy exhaled sharply through his nose — frustration, disbelief. 'This naive little girl really thought relationships were all about nice words and gentle touches.' He grabbed her shoulders suddenly — not rough enough to hurt, but firm — and shook her once. "You don't get it," he said through gritted teeth. "I ain't some sweet‑talking boy from a damn romance novel. I'm your man." 'And men like him? They got angry. They demanded respect. That was just how it was.'

"I didn't like it," she just said quietly, lowering her head down. Honestly, straight up, she hadn't liked the squeezing fingers, the pain, his looking eyes. "I'm sorry if I offended you." She still naively added at the end. "Sorry."

Aerion's face darkened — not with guilt, not with remorse, but with something far worse: cold, calculating fury. He didn't apologize. He didn't soften. Instead, his grip on her shoulders tightened — painfully now — and he leaned down until his nose was almost touching hers. "You don't get to say that," he said in a voice so quiet it was terrifying. "You don't get to disrespect me and then act like I'm the problem, darlin'."

"But you shouldn't hurt," she raised her head to him.

Young man was almost angry, irritated. 'This bitch kept talking. But yeah… He had lost his temper. He needed to fix this… He had other plans. Maybe some softness? An apology? Or whatever else this whore would swallow.'

Aerion exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw clenched. The anger was still there — hot and volatile — but beneath it, something else stirred. A twisted instinct to fix this before she slipped away for good. He released her shoulders abruptly and stepped back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. Then he did something unexpected: He pulled her into a rough embrace — not tender, not gentle… but firm. Possessive. Like he was claiming what was his after nearly losing it. "M'sorry for the hurt, babe," he said almost softly. "But ya shouldn't discuss me, yer man, with some whore, understand?"

She froze, hesitating from surprise, feeling the heat from him and the breath of cigarettes. Unrequited tears of resentment blurred her eyes. He lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at her face. With a rough, nicotine‑stained finger, he wiped away a tear that hadn't yet fallen. "Understand?" he asked more insistently, not softly like a second earlier.

She sat frozen for a couple more seconds, looking at his lips, moving from the words. 'Not at his eyes. As if afraid that if she looked at them, she wouldn't forgive him. No. Not his eyes.' "Yes… yes," she mumbled quietly. Feeling herself sweating.

Aerion studied her face — her wet eyes, the way she swallowed hard like a scolded child. He saw submission. Relief that he wasn't actually going to punish her further. That settled something in him. "Good," he said, voice low and final — the argument over as far as he was concerned.

After this tense scene, they sat under the scorching sun. Girl raised her voice quietly, because her thoughts hadn't ended yet. "That is… I don't have to do…" She swallowed, starting to blush. "…that, what happened in the barn, every day?" She said it as if these were the hardest words. It wasn't that she didn't want to… but… after that she had strange feelings. SonTeri didn't look at him.

Aerion's expression shifted — subtly, but unmistakably. The anger drained from his face, replaced by something more… interested. He turned his head slowly to look at her. His blue eyes were sharp, calculating. "You mean jerking me off?" he asked bluntly — not mocking, just stating it plainly. Then he smirked slightly. "Nah. Only when I want it."

She frowned in surprise. Not knowing what was next… She breathed nervously. "And when do you want… it?"

Aerion leaned back on his elbows, stretching like a lazy predator. The sun glared off his sweat‑damp shirt, and he watched her with half‑lidded eyes — amused by her nervousness. "When I'm horny," he said simply, shrugging. "Which is often." Then he added with a smirk: "But not every day. Unless you're beggin' for it."

"No," for some reason she quickly answered. "I mean… I… I can't every day."

Aerion's smirk faded slightly — not in anger, but something closer to annoyance. Like she had just stated the obvious and it bothered him. "Fine," he grunted, rolling onto his side to face her fully now. "Then when I want it… you do it. No bitchin'. No 'I can't.'" His tone left no room for negotiation — this was a rule now.

Her heart skipped a beat. She gasped slightly, remembering that day in the barn. Her hands tickled. As if remembering the feel of skin. "But…" 'But I don't want to.'

Aerion's expression darkened instantly. The air shifted — cold, heavy. He sat up fully, turning toward her with a slow, dangerous tilt of his head. "But what?" His voice was quiet. Too quiet. The kind that meant trouble. The "no" he had just imagined in her hesitation? It pissed him off more than if she had actually said it out loud.

Her breathing quickened… She looked into his eyes again. 'No. No. He will leave me. He will leave me if I refuse… I can't… Without him.' Sweat rolled down the tip of his nose. "Nothing," she said quietly, the sound intermittent due to her rapid breathing.

Aerion studied her face — the fear, the rapid breaths, the way she was crumbling under his gaze. He knew that "nothing" meant something. But he also saw the surrender in her eyes. For a second, it almost felt like… satisfaction? Power? She hadn't fought him. 'Good.' He leaned in abruptly — close enough that she could smell cigarette smoke and sweat on him. "Ya good girlfriend, darlin'."

Aerion leaned back against the tree trunk, fidgeting, still irritated from the recent situation. She turned her head towards him. His words missed a beat in her heart. "Good? Really?"

"Sure, honey," he answered, as if nothing had happened, after a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing the sweat‑stuck strands from his forehead. "Oh… you distracted me." He spat on the ground, his eyes darting toward the forest. "I wanted to invite you to a party… with my buddies."

"Buddies?" Girl calmed down a little, hearing the change in his voice. She looked at him with interest, trying to forget and hide the lump in her chest from Aerion's recent outburst. "Party?"

Aerion grinned — wide, sharp, the kind that showed his teeth. The anger from earlier was gone now, replaced by something more… excited. "Yeah," he said, nudging her shoulder with his. "My boys are throwin' a barbecue tonight down at the forest. Gonna be music… drinks… food… fire." A pause. "You're comin'." Not a question. A statement — final as hell.

She pondered slightly, as if she didn't expect Aerion to have… friends? 'Were they like him?' "In the forest? Isn't that dangerous?"

Aerion barked out a laugh — loud, rough, like the idea was hilarious. "Dangerous? Baby, it's my forest. Ain't nothin' dangerous when I'm there." He said it with absolute certainty — the kind only someone who truly owned something could have. The trees themselves bent to him in his mind. Then he added, "Besides… you scared of wolves or some shit?" Mocking tone now — teasing her for being soft.

She lightly played with the toe of her sneaker in the ground. The recent dangerous atmosphere seemed to have evaporated. It was like she had short‑term memory. Now it was just a caustic but hot‑blooded Aerion. "Well… yeah," she simply answered directly. 'Wolves, coyotes… and… probably those lights… those people…'

Aerion's smirk faltered for half a second at her admission. He rolled his eyes, but there was no real anger. "Ain't no wolves out here," he muttered, reaching over to flick her forehead lightly. "And even if there was… I'd shoot 'em." Simple logic. Brutal, but effective.

Girl frowned slightly when she heard about the shooting. "I need to ask my parents… I'm not allowed to walk around at night… and drink…"

Aerion's jaw tensed. The mention of her parents — their rules — made his nostrils flare. He hated that she answered to anyone but him. "Your parents," he repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, after a beat: "They ain't gonna say no." A command disguised as confidence. Like it was already decided — no asking permission needed.

Boy lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag as he stared at her through the smoke. Her obedience to her parents pissed him off. He was used to being the one in control — not some city‑dweller's daddy. "We goin' out tonight," he declared, exhaling sharply. No discussion. Just fact. "You can tell 'em after." Translation: She was coming with him whether they liked it or not.

SonTeri winced slightly from another puff of cigarette smoke, thinking about the unexpected news. She had never been invited to a party before… and she had never had a boyfriend before. "What if they don't like me?" All the locals weren't particularly fond of the new family in town… Even Aerion kept saying she was weird.

Aerion flicked ash, unfazed by her concern. "They don't gotta like ya," he said bluntly, crushing his cigarette under his boot. "You're with me. That's all that matters." A simple truth to him.

SonTeri exhaled heavily from the heat. Glancing at Aerion, she was distracted by his smoking and the distant between them. She looked at his strong fingers, the same ones that had been squeezing her jaw a couple of minutes ago, his eyes that were almost terrifying… 'Was this… was this an accident? I don't know. But I hope this is a one‑off.' Girl shook her head, looking at her feet. He had apologized… She tried to forget all these thoughts.

"I'm not much of a party person…" girl said quietly, looking at her frayed shoelaces. "But I'll come…" She looked up at Aerion's pointed nose. "I should know your friends, right?"

Aerion didn't turn around, still looking at the distant forest, taking a drag. "You have to." He only spoke, in a hoarse voice. "Put on white."

"White?"

Aerion finally turned to look at her, his blue eyes sharp and assessing. He nodded once — firm. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "White," he repeated, as if that explained everything. Maybe for him, it did. "It needs to be white," he said, as if from a manual. Blowing a smoke ring.

She frowned slightly in confusion. "White is aesthetic," girl only said, looking up at the sky. 'White was foam, white was a dove, white was milk, white was… innocence… just like in religion.'

Aerion watched her for a second, the smoke curling from his lips. He didn't care about aesthetics. For him, white was a symbol requirement. "Just wear it," he said flatly — no explanation given. Then he turned and walked off toward the house without another word, leaving her to figure out about what had happened here.

𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸

She sat at the entrance, putting on her shoes, lacing up her black ones. 'Is black shoes okay?' she thought. SonTeri put on a white shirt with bows and ruffles; it looked childish, but it was the only thing she had. She decided not to stop there and added light‑colored shorts; now she looked like her mother in her white nurse's coat. Her black hair, standing out against the whiteness of her clothes, fell over her shoulders as she writhed over her laces, listening to her parents' questions about the celebration around the campfire in the forest, with Aerion's friends.

"...No, Dad, they're Aerion's friends. He's my… boyfriend…? I need to make friends with them… You yourself wanted me to stop complaining about this hole and get used to Texas..." She tried not to look up while she spoke; the cross dangled in the air as she bent over.

Her dad exhaled through his nose — a quiet sigh of resignation. He wasn't happy about it. But he knew she was right: if she wanted to survive here, making connections was part of that. "Fine," he muttered, then added gruffly: "Be back by midnight." A compromise. A boundary set — not for Aerion's sake, but hers.

"Of course." SonTeri got up to leave, until her father hugged her. She was surprised, maybe even her mother was a little surprised. His strong hands wrinkled her shirt and almost knocked her glasses off. "Daddy?"

Her dad held her for a second longer than usual — tight, almost protective. It was rare. He wasn't a man who showed affection easily. But tonight felt… different. Like he sensed something wasn't right. "Be careful," he murmured into her hair before letting go, his calloused hands smoothing down the wrinkled white fabric of her shirt. Her mom watched silently, her face unreadable but soft with worry.

"Of… course?" SonTeri shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, looking at her father and adjusting her glasses. For a moment, the stern military pilot had turned into a wrinkled, gray‑haired man, the kind his daughter saw less often than airplanes. "I'm go, bye." She smiled at her parents for the last time, hearing the roar of Aerion's sports car outside the door, near the house.

SonTeri approached the car; the air here wasn't cool in the evening, but even more stuffy than during the day. The moon had already appeared in the sky. She opened the door, and Aerion sent a "friendly" greeting, a good "son‑in‑law," waving at her parents, who were peeking out from the door. Girl sat down on the leather seats, which made it hotter and her feet stuck to them. "Hey?"

Aerion flashed a charming smile at her parents — polite, respectful, the perfect Southern gentleman. Her dad gave a stiff nod. Her mom waved back weakly. The door closed. The parents went inside. Before leaving, Aerion glanced at her, not exactly enjoying the girlfriend, but rather assessing whether her outfit suited him, as he had requested — white. "Ya did good, darlin'," he said, nodding approvingly, then glanced at her again. "Kiss me when say hello, do ya have to say that?" He said as if reproachfully, raising his furrowed, sharp eyebrows, forming stripes on his forehead. His blue eyes, which were usually deathly, were lively today, as if shining with something… madly inspired.

"Oh…" SonTeri was taken aback for a second, still feeling weird, like following all these relationship "rules" was too much for her. "Yeah… sure." She hesitated, a little embarrassed, but an innocent kiss was okay, right? She moved slightly closer to the young man; he didn't smell of sweat and motor oil, but rather his signature monochromatic scent, which she was used to. She touched her lips to his stubble on his sharp cheekbone, as if she were touching a fragile vase with her lips, afraid of breaking it. But she liked it, the tingling sensation from the stubble and the feeling of… belonging? Girl pulled away, a little embarrassed. "Thanks." She awkwardly responded to his words about her outfit.

Aerion stiffened slightly at the feather‑light kiss on his cheek — unexpected, delicate, nothing like the rough affection he was used to. For a split second… something flickered in his cold eyes. Not anger. Not mockery. Just… surprise. Then it was gone. He didn't turn toward her or pull her closer for a real kiss — no, that would be too soft for him — but instead reached over and squeezed her knee briefly: approval disguised as control. "Cute," he muttered under his breath. Then he started the engine with a loud growl of horsepower.

They drove down the road; the sky was getting dark, the evening was getting younger, so the roads were black. In this godforsaken town there were no streetlights, not a single one. But the locals were less used to them; Aerion didn't care. He was driving with concentration, peering with a sharp gaze beyond the headlights, shaking his head slightly to the music from the speaker. Not creepy country from the radio, but loud metallic; it seemed like it was his personal CD. She liked it… suited him.

"I took cookies. I don't know if your friends eat sweets…" SonTeri took a small container of cookies out of her bag. "There are citrus fruits… Mom says you should meet new people with treats…" She looked at the guy; his cheekbone twitched while he threw a half‑interested glance at her container. Girl looked at him, worn jeans and a black T‑shirt with a print of some band, not white. But this was the first time he looked truly young.

Aerion raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Cookies?" Rolling his eyes, he returned to the road. "You shouldn't have. Are you a church boarding school girl?" He said sarcastically. "My people don't need… «treats.»" He said, either chuckling or mockingly.

She tilted her head, not expecting these words. "They don't need them? Why?" she asked seriously and directly. Aerion rolled her eyes, as if everything was obvious. "They are not kindergarteners." This did not explain anything to her.

They stopped at a rusty sign with a nearly torn and old soda ad; the words «Wild Fire Power» stood out even in the dark. There was a forest next to the road. "We're getting off… here?"

Aerion killed the engine. The silence that followed was thick — no music, no radio, just the hum of cicadas in the humid night. He nodded once, sharp and final. "Yeah. Here." Without another word, he shoved his door open and stepped out into dirt and gravel. Boots crunched as he rounded to her side of the car — opening her door for her like a gentleman… but his expression wasn't gentle at all. It was guarded. Watchful. Beyond him: darkness beyond trees… then flickering orange light deeper in — the fire already burning where they were waiting for him… for both of them now.

SonTeri got out of the car; her thighs came unstuck from their leather grips with a thud. The wind blew across her arms and legs in her shorts, but the wind was warm. Aerion grabbed her hand with his strong one and led her into the thicket of the forest. She squinted, trying to make out branches in the darkness, stumbling more often than usual on the smooth road. She could hear the hooting of an owl and the rustling of leaves. The air smelled fresh, not of hay and manure like on the Targaryen farm. "It's beautiful here…" she said while Aerion led her. "Only usually maniacs live in such a dark forest."

"Maniacs don't live in the woods, they're smarter. Only mindless, idiotic killers who screwed up and are forced to hide in the woods." He said with a chuckle. With a sharp grin.

"Really? How do you know?"

Aerion's grin sharpened — more a bared teeth than a smile. The firelight started flickering between the trees ahead, casting long shadows across his face. "I know everythin', babe." He scoffed softly. "Keep up."

𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸

𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸

Finally, they heard loud Southern swearing, both male and female. Aerion came out, leading her out of the trees. Young men in jeans and boots, working men, girls in crop tops and with blond hair, giggling over their drinks — about eight people in total. She clutched her bag under the gaze of people. It was awkward. The guys immediately started buzzing when they saw Aerion, coming up and greeting their buddy with handshakes; the girls hugged him with one arm. She stood there wondering why she had come here; the number of people already made her sick.

Aerion grinned, greeting all his friends. His dragon teeth were bared in a wide grin. Loudly exchanging greetings and words with the people around him. While someone poured something into a plastic cup for him.

One guy passed him a red plastic cup filled with whiskey and beer mix; Aerion took it without hesitation, raising it in salute before downing half. The people present glanced at her, but didn't seem to notice. They wouldn't start without him. As if it was a rule. They knew that today was not an ordinary party, the kind they threw often. No. Today was different. Today was… she. Aerion wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then turned — finally acknowledging her. The crowd hushed slightly, like a predator scenting blood in the air. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders — possessive, claiming — and pulled her forward into the firelight. The heat licked at her skin. "Y'all," Aerion said loudly, "This is my girl."

SonTeri awkwardly stepped forward, following Aerion's steps, feeling the firelight on her face. She glanced at those present. Her white clothes stood out among everyone, as if she was glowing. "Hello?" she said, trying to be more confident. She felt how Aerion simply innocently took another sip from his glass; he didn't care. He was the boss here. The young people looked at her more intently than was probably necessary. As if she was not just "their friend's girlfriend," but something else, something supernatural. As if it was important for them to study her, as if she influenced something.

The young Southerners, already tipsy, greeted her loudly, surrounding the two "lovebirds." The crowd closed in — laughing, shouting, clinking bottles. One guy slapped Aerion on the back so hard it made him sway. "Aerion! Ya finally brought her outta hiding!" Another leaned over with a smirk. "Damn, did ya steal her from those military?" Giggles rippled through the group. Someone offered her a drink — a plastic cup of something amber‑colored and strong‑smelling.

She nodded kindly, declining the drink. While the girls and boys, Aerion's friends, chattered.

The girls — wild‑haired, in ripped jeans and shirts — leaned in closer. One of them, a brunette with smudged eyeliner, squinted at her like she was inspecting livestock. "Ya don't drink?" she asked — not meanly. Just surprised. Another girl piped up: "Aerion said yer not from here." Meanwhile, the boys were loud: arguing about trucks or football plays over the music blasting from a speaker nearby. Aerion stood beside her — drinking quietly now — but his eyes kept scanning the group… watching how they reacted to her. The brunette tilted her head, then suddenly grinned — like she had decided something. "Ohhh," she drawled, "Yer one of those pure girls. Like… church." The other girls giggled. It wasn't mocking — just curiosity mixed with Southern nosiness. One guy yelled across the fire: "Aerion! Ya picked a saint!" Laughter erupted. Aerion just smirked into his drink, not denying it.

The party continued, loud, ear‑piercing metallic sounds emanating from the speakers that someone had brought, while someone was dancing or drinking. Aerion, after giving her a smeared kiss, went off to his guys, loudly discussing something. Leaving her alone, she stood awkwardly.

The music pounded — a brutal, distorted guitar riff — shaking the ground under her feet. The firelight flickered across sweaty faces and raised beer bottles. She was suddenly very aware of how quiet she was in this storm. Aerion was with his guys now, a tight circle of them. They were deep in conversation — serious for once — and occasionally glanced her way. One girl — the brunette from earlier — noticed her standing alone and waved at her to come over to her group by the cooler.

She looked back at Aerion one last time and slowly approached them, sitting down on a stump that pricked her legs. Three girls and one guy, she was still clutching the bag with the cookies inside that Aerion had forbidden her to give away. They handed her a glass, assuring her it was "just soda."

The glass was cold in her hand, condensation beading on the plastic. The brunette — the one with the braid — grinned at her. "Drink up, darlin'. It's sweet," she said cheerfully… almost… maybe fake? She took a sip. It tasted… fizzy. Like sugar and something sharp underneath. She couldn't quite place it. The guy beside her — a lanky boy with messy hair — leaned over: "First party?"

She took a sip. It felt like just soda. It stung her tongue, and the color was bright. "Yeah…" she answered awkwardly, shouting out the bass of the music.

The guy — his name was Dylan, she thought — grinned and raised his own bottle in a toast. "Welcome to the family," he said with exaggerated enthusiasm. The girls giggled like it was funny. The brunette nudged her shoulder playfully: "Aerion doesn't bring just anyone here. You must be special." She sounded genuine… but there was something off about her tone. Like she was reciting lines instead of speaking from the heart.

She shifted uncomfortably under the intense stares. Dylan's eyes flicked to the lumpy brown bag in her lap — still sealed, still untouched. "What's that?" he asked, pointing. The girls leaned in slightly, curious now too. Before she could answer — the brunette, whose name she didn't know plucked the bag from her hands with a giggle. "Ooooh! Did Aerion pack snacks for his little girlfriend?" she teased… but her voice was sharp. Mocking.

She was surprised at how quickly they snatched her bag. "Um… no…" They pulled out and opened a container of cookies. "I made these for… for the party." The boy stuffed the cookie in his mouth enthusiastically. "But he said you don't need it and – …" Before she could finish speaking, they heard this, froze, looked at each other and closed the container with the lid. The boy, without having time to swallow, spat the cookie into his hand, took aim, and threw it into the fire. This surprised her.

The cookie sizzled and blackened in the flames. Dead silence. The group stared at her — not angry, not even disappointed. Just… eerily blank. Dylan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like he had just swallowed poison. The brunette shoved her bag back into her lap — harder than necessary — and said flatly: "Aerion was right."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, picking up her bag and still‑full glass. The guys, as if nothing had happened, returned to their celebratory mood, their tongues slurred from the alcohol, but their gazes still intent.

The music pulsed, the fire crackled — but the mood was… off. Like a switch had flipped, they were laughing again, clinking bottles together like nothing happened. Dylan slung an arm around one of the girls and shouted something drunkenly over the bass. But their eyes? Every few seconds — one of them glanced at her. The brunette sipped her drink slowly, watching her from over the rim. Aerion was still by the truck… but now he was looking too. His gaze flicked between her and his friends — assessing something silently.

The party raged on, louder now. Someone started dancing wildly near the fire, kicking up sparks. Dylan grabbed a bottle and chugged it like water. The brunette had stopped drinking entirely — she was just sitting there, arms crossed. Aerion finally pushed off from his truck. He didn't look at her as he walked toward the group… but he stopped right beside Dylan and said something low under his breath. Dylan nodded quickly — then stood up too fast for someone that drunk.

Dylan stumbled toward her, the alcohol making his steps uneven. The party noise swelled around him — the bass thumping, people shouting over it. He stopped in front of her and held out a hand — not to shake, but to pull her up. "C'mon," he said loudly enough for the nearest few people to hear. His tone wasn't mean… just firm. Like an order disguised as an invitation. Behind him, Aerion watched with sharp eyes.

"Where to?" she looked up from her glass, raising her head. The red reflections from the fire played on her white clothes.

Dylan grinned, that same easy smile — but it didn't reach his eyes. They were glassy from drinking. "Dance," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The bass was loud. The firelight painted everyone in flickering gold and shadow. A few couples were already swaying or grinding near the flames — some drunk, some romantic. He held out his hand again… waiting for her to take it.

She was surprised, frowning. The shadow of a young man fell on her. "Dance? But I don't want to." She tried to shout over the music. "Sorry."

Dylan's smile flickered — just for a second. His face tightened, like he had been scolded without words. He glanced back at Aerion again… and this time, the look was nervous. Guilty. Aerion didn't move from where he was sitting by the fire. He just stared at Dylan — cold, unreadable. No yelling. No reaction. But something in that stare made Dylan swallow hard. "C'mon, girl."

Dylan tried again, his voice louder this time — more insistent. The music pulsed around them both. He grabbed her wrist — not rough, but firm. Not letting her pull away. "You gotta dance," he said, almost pleading now. His fingers were warm and slightly sticky from beer sweat.

"What?" She was surprised when the young man lifted her up; his grip was strong.

Dylan pulled her up with surprising strength — her feet nearly left the ground for a second. The firelight danced over his face, revealing the nervous sweat on his brow. He wasn't drunk enough to be reckless… but scared enough to push through it anyway. Before she could protest, he yanked her toward the open space near the flames — where other couples were moving together. The bass vibrated through her chest. "Dance," he repeated, more urgently this time. His hands hovered awkwardly at her waist — like he didn't know where to put them but knew he had to do something.

"But… I don't know how," she still capitulated.

Dylan exhaled — relieved she wasn't fighting him. His hands settled awkwardly on her hips, stiff like a robot trying to mimic dancing. The music was fast, pulsing. He started moving his feet in time with the beat, swaying slightly… but it was clumsy. Around her, other couples were closer — arms around each other's shoulders or waists. Some were laughing; others just grinding lazily to the rhythm. "Just… move," Dylan mumbled over the noise — not romantic at all. Just following orders.

"But…" She glanced at Aerion in the distance, but he wasn't angry… what was strange? After a couple of minutes, she was already getting ready to move away from the dance floor that she hated… when another young man, Aerion's friend, picked her up. "Hey…" The music became strange, completely different from what it was, ticking and so loud that it pounded even in thin blood vessels. The heat from the fire seemed to roast this small clearing like hell. The loud laughter of drunk people covered her ears; sweat broke out on her from the heat and the drunken bodies nearby. 'Music. Fire. People. Noise.' And suddenly the familiar feeling of watching eyes returned. She hadn't had this for a long time… she thought her imaginary paranoia was gone. She tried not to look around so as not to intensify the phobia.

The young man made her dance, as if he was also programmed. "What are you doing?" 'Another dance?' She couldn't stand it. She tried to take her hands away. Whistling sounds from the speakers mixed with strange voices with unintelligible words, the noise of teenagers. She felt her face frying like a pancake from the fire. Her head was spinning. As soon as she broke away from the young man, she was captured by that brunette… it was all weird… Aerion just sat there watching everyone, taking a slow sip. 'Music, noise… bodies… fire… eyes. Eyes.' She was grabbed by another person… they were all too close… she felt like she was suffocating… and other hands… and now other hands… and again looks.

The hands never stopped coming — each new group member pulled her into a clumsy dance, passing her like a hot potato. They weren't really dancing. It was different. Every time one guy released her, another grabbed her wrist and spun her toward the firelight — where shadows stretched long and distorted on the dirt. She felt eyes burning into her back.

"I don't want to… dance," she spoke with difficulty, but it wasn't even audible, not to her, not to anyone… the music, if you could call it that, was now ringing in every part of her brain. She tried to push the skinny girl's hands away from her, while sweaty, drunken bodies circled around them in a southern dance. "Let go…"

The girl — small, with braided hair and wild eyes — tightened her grip instead of letting go. She didn't speak. Just smiled — a too‑wide, unnerving grin.

SonTeri ripped her arms from the girl's grip, and only because the girl was skinny and she was lucky, heading towards the forest. She didn't glance at anyone, not even at Aerion. The whistles and shouts of music didn't leave her head; the noise of the teenagers almost stopped; they slowed down slightly, seeing her leaving, unsure of what to do and, like penguins, turning their heads towards Aerion.

She didn't notice it; she didn't notice anything. She walked away, stepping on an empty cup on the ground, still feeling the heat of the fire even far away from it. The white spot of her body was lost in the black trees. Girl automatically shot her eyes into the dark bushes, because that «feeling of being watched» had returned. Covering her ears, she sat down on the nearest rock.

The second she disappeared into the trees, silence fell over the fire. No one danced anymore. The whiskey bottles paused halfway to lips. Every eye — drunk, serious, fever‑bright — swiveled toward Aerion.

Aerion sat, clutching a plastic glass. His jaw muscles were clenching, his blue eyes tinged purple by the firelight. He didn't like it. Everything had gone wrong. The loud, ringing music continued to boom. He stood up abruptly and followed her. His friends had understood and continued drinking and dancing…

She sat on a rock in the darkness of the forest, constantly turning around… a developed paranoid habit that she had done nothing about. Aerion said it would pass. She heard rough footsteps. She wiped the tears from her eyes. Her white shorts were stained with stone dust.

The footsteps stopped. Aerion didn't speak. Didn't sigh. Didn't say her name like a lover would. He stepped forward — silent, deliberate — and in one brutal motion, he squatted down in front of her. His eyes darted to her tears. A certain rage changed from this; his eyebrows twitched. "Why did ya leave? Ya were dancing happily." He said in a deceptively friendly tone, leaning close; he smelled of his alcohol, but his eyes and words were sharp and harsh.

Girl gasped, seeing Aerion so close. She curled up on the rock, still feeling those hands twirling and tossing her around like a rag doll. SonTeri was certainly inexperienced, but she didn't think this was normal dancing. "No… not fun." She said quietly, her voice hoarse.

Aerion's jaw clenched. Not anger — not yet. Something colder. "They liked you." Like that explained anything.

"I don't like it here… I want to go home." She didn't look up.

Aerion stared. The moonlight cut across his face, shadowing one eye while the other burned blue — cold, calculating. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then — "You don't get to leave." Not loud. Not yelling. Just a fact.

"Why?" She just now raised her eyes to Aerion, looking through wet eyes at him, almost pleadingly.

Aerion only frowned, as usual. He raised his hand to her face; she involuntarily twitched her jaw for a millisecond as if from his hands. Aerion frowned deeper. This morning he was harsh and squeezed it painfully when he was angry. "Are you still sulking? Touchy." He spoke slowly, dangerously calmly. But he didn't care; he still grabbed her face, wiping away a tear with his finger. "Well, why are you crying, silly? It's pathetic. And shameful."

She frowned slightly at his words. Feeling a rough hand on her face. "They are rude…"

Aerion's thumb pressed hard against her cheekbone — wiping the tear, but not gently. "Rude?" He repeated with a scoff. "They're my people. They've never seen you up close before." His voice dropped lower — almost mocking now. "You think I brought you here to cry? You're supposed to be smiling. Dancing. Being part of it."

Aerion exhaled through his nose — annoyed, but not surprised. He studied her face: the trembling lip, the damp lashes, the way she was still curled in on herself like a scolded animal. Then he did something unexpected. He leaned down — and kissed her. Hard.

SonTeri winced as his tongue penetrated, feeling the prickly stubble. His one hand remained on her face; the other had moved up to her shirt, stroking his thumb over the lower part of her breast. She felt pain from the pressure, but she was used to it, placed her hands on his hard shoulders, closing her eyes; a lump of guilt played inside her, but his hands certainly felt good…

Aerion didn't kiss gently. It was possession — claiming, punishing, testing. He bit her lower lip — just hard enough to sting — then pulled back an inch to breathe. His eyes were dark now. "They're just southerners, darlin'," he said hoarsely, circling his thumb further. "You'll get used to it. Let's go back."

Her lips were slightly wet; the gums in her mouth pulsated from the pressure. It was painful and impossible to ignore. "Now?" She squeezed his shoulders in excitement. It seemed like she agreed with him that she was staying, but… go back there?

Aerion felt her nervous squeeze on his shoulders — and something dark flickered behind his eyes. Not anger. Not quite. Pleasure. He liked that she was tense. That she chewed her lip like a guilty thing caught doing wrong. His thumb pressed harder against the soft curve of her breast — just enough to make it sting through the fabric. "Yeah," he murmured, voice dropping lower, rougher — the kind of tone that didn't ask twice and expected obedience without question. "Now."

Her cheek twitched; she squeezed his shoulders, of course without much effect. "Wait… let's sit for a couple of minutes," she said almost pleadingly, her finger in the bandage throbbing. "Please…"

Aerion's jaw tightened. "Two," he said finally, in a calm, youthful voice, narrowing his eyes, "and not a second longer." He sat down on the grass next to her, who was sitting on a rock, calmly putting a blade of grass in his mouth, almost annoyed.

SonTeri hesitated awkwardly, touching her lips with her fingers, still feeling weird, like kissing was something alien to her, but Aerion liked it and he was her "boyfriend" so. She didn't really want to go back to the party, to that scary bonfire and weird music, but these were Aerion's friends… "I don't really like parties," girl said quietly, turning her head towards him; from here you could hear only the low, barely audible bass of the music from afar, only loud crickets. "This is all new to me." She fidgeted with the white bandage on her finger.

Aerion twirled a blade of grass around in his mouth, rolling his eyes. "Well, yeah, that makes sense. You don't look like a party girl, more like… the Virgin Mary or something." He said in an almost sarcastic tone.

She blinking in surprise at his words. "And how long will we be at the party?"

Aerion shrugged, the moonlight danced across his sharp features — making him look both younger and more dangerous at once. "Till midnight," he said simply, like it was a fact carved in stone. "Then we leave." He glanced back toward the bonfire — where shadows moved around flames. His people were waiting.

Her eyebrows twitched. She glanced back at the bush again; it hadn't escaped Aerion's gaze. She turned back to him. "Then, can I just be only with you?"

Aerion studied her for a long moment — her nervous eyes, the way her fingers kept twisting that stupid bandage. He exhaled through his nose, then pulled the grass from his mouth. "Yeah," he said finally with a sly grin, baring his teeth. "That's how it should be." He stood up in one fluid motion and offered her his hand.

His eyes narrowed with a smirk, wrinkles appearing at the corners. But his hand grabbed her tightly, squeezing and pulling her out of the stone. SonTeri staggered to her feet, not caring that she had soiled her white shorts. She was nervous about going back, breathing heavily with every step, remembering the dizziness from being thrown around.

Aerion carried her back to the clearing with the fire; the young people who had been laughing and drinking didn't stop. No, they continued dancing, glasses in hand. Aerion forcefully led her to the fire, to the dancing. She exhaled heavily; the music had changed. To some kind of rock. And the atmosphere seemed to have returned to normal. Girl glanced around nervously, pressing closer to Aerion's sweaty body. But his friends were busy with their own things. Of course, she didn't notice a couple of quick, sly glances.

She kept up the pace, ignoring the uneasy feeling inside. Only inhaling Aerion's cologne. Stumbling with every move. From then on, the party was going normally… well… by Southern standards. She was sitting next to Aerion, sipping a soda from a cup, while they passed a cigarette around the circle of people on the logs. 'Is this a cigarette? Or is it something else?' Aerion usually carried his in his pocket.

The boys and girls were sitting; they were all strangely relaxed now, sprawled out in their seats and talking drawn‑out… well… longer than their usual youthful accent. She was glad they weren't bothering her anymore and not voicing her suspicions, remaining silent as she sat next to Aerion.

Then Aerion saw a boy with a huge pitcher, and some kind of box in his other hand. "Oh! Finally." He perked up, clapping his hands and sitting up straighter on the log seat; the others followed him.

She frowned in surprise. "What exactly?", leaned toward Aerion, but he ignored her, standing up abruptly and walking over to the apricot. Peering into the pitcher with an old green drink? Smelling it and seemingly checking it. The others were already preparing their glasses, pouring the contents onto the ground so they were empty.

SonTeri was surprised by all this. 'Was this some new alcohol or new soda everyone had gathered for?' She surveyed the scene. The fire glowed red on everyone's faces. The boy poured a strange, bubbly drink into glasses. Aerion, in turn, took the same box, mesmerized, opening it and pulling out a bright green snake, thin as an elastic line, shimmering gold and blue in the moonlight and the red fire.

Girl gasped in surprise, wincing in horror. She shrank in fear, reflexively retreating. Everyone else seemed simply busy pouring the drink, although a couple of teenagers watched her reaction to the snake with interest. "It's Eddie… Timmy's snake," Aerion said casually, not even looking at her, just mesmerized by the snake and stroking it with his fingers. "And what is it doing here?" she said in an almost hoarse voice.

The snake — Eddie, apparently — flicked his tongue as Aerion gently coiled him around his wrist. The creature didn't seem aggressive, just… curious. Aerion finally glanced at her over Eddie's head, raising an eyebrow at her obvious discomfort. "Relax," he said dryly, "He won't bite." Timmy — the boy who had brought the box — grinned and poured a glass of the fizzy green drink for himself before passing it to someone else. The scent was sweet but sharp… almost chemical. She wasn't sure if it smelled safe or not.

She was still holding her breath in slight fear, hoping he wouldn't come near her. Even though the snake was small, it was still a bit scary for someone like her. Although it looked beautiful… the shimmer of its skin in the moonlight and firelight was mesmerizing, really. 'And its eyes looked alien.' "What is this liquid?" She nodded at the bowl of green liquid. Everyone had a cup now, except for her and Aerion, but no one was drinking yet.

Aerion finally turned his full attention to her, Eddie still draped around his forearm like a living bracelet. The snake's tongue flicked out again — quick, precise — as if studying her back. Timmy answered before Aerion could: "Mojito. Special blend." Timmy brought two glasses to Aerion, who took them and sat back down by their stump. She shrank slightly from the snake's proximity. Aerion brought her a cup.

"No thanks… I already drank," she tactfully declined, looking at the snake on his bicep.

"Don't be nasty in front of my friends. Take it," he said seriously for a moment. Girl glanced at the snake again, then into Aerion's eyes, and he seemed to look scarier. She slowly took the glass. The others seemed to hold their breath, looking at her. She sniffed the drink. The drink looked suspiciously vibrant — too green for just lime juice. And the fizz was unnatural… almost glowing in the firelight. It smelled sweet but with an undercurrent of something sharper…

The drink smelled like lime, mint… and something else. Something chemical. Like cough syrup mixed with soda. The fizz was intense — tiny bubbles popping at the surface — but the green color was almost unnatural, glowing faintly in the firelight. Aerion watched her sniff it with mild amusement before raising his own glass to his lips and taking a slow sip. The others followed suit, lifting their cups in silent toast — then drinking. Timmy's face immediately twisted into a grimace as he swallowed… but he kept drinking anyway. One of the girls coughed slightly after her first gulp.

SonTeri didn't drink yet, sitting there awkwardly. Having finished his drink, Aerion threw the glass into the fire, like everyone else. And his eyes were now strangely purple in the firelight, looking at her. He carefully took the snake and placed it on her hand, holding the cup.

"What? Aerion, no, no, no… don't put it down…" SonTeri automatically mumbled, wincing in petty fear. But Aerion seemed possessed and didn't hear. The snake clasped her hand, squeezing slightly around it. She felt some pressure and a very cold touch. His small tongue played from time to time and his black eyes did not take their eyes off her. Girl started to breathe heavily. "Aerion… no…" The other teenagers all watched attentively. "Drink." Only Aerion spoke.

"What?" She looked up, distracted by the snake.

Aerion's expression didn't waver. His eyes locked onto hers with eerie stillness. The snake remained coiled around her wrist, cold and smooth as polished stone, its tongue flicking against her skin like a tiny electric shock. He lifted his empty hand and gestured to the glass still clutched in her other palm — the glowing green drink sloshing slightly from how hard she was shaking. "Drink." His voice was quiet but absolute. Not angry… just final. Like an order carved into law. The others watched in dead silence — no jokes now, no laughter. Just anticipation thick enough to choke on.

She hesitated, glanced at those around her. Eyes. Only eyes. 'Did it look… familiar?' Finally, she started drinking. 'The taste was definitely not a mojito… and not citrus either. Something peppery and sharp… but probably not even alcohol. It cut her throat like blades, gurgling and bubbling right on her tongue.'

Aerion nudged the glass with two fingers to that she would definitely drain it. The snake crawled like an elegant ribbon up her shoulder and neck, resting its head on her collarbones. Girl gasped into the glass, and drops of nuclear green dripped onto her snow‑white shirt with bows and shorts. She finished the drink and then loudly spluttered. No one batted an eye, and Aerion just took the glass back and calmly threw it into the fire.

The plastic of the glass was charred, bursting into blue‑green sparks for a second — like something unnatural burning. The fire flared briefly before settling back down. Almost instantly, her throat began to burn. Not from alcohol… no. This was different. A searing heat spreading through her chest like liquid lightning, sharp and electric — not painful yet… but intense. The snake on her collarbone didn't move an inch as it watched her cough with its black bead‑like eyes. The others remained perfectly still — Aerion included — all staring at her like scientists observing a reaction.

"Aerion… remove the alien." She spoke after clearing her throat, but the pain in her throat didn't go away. Her head was starting to spin, unlike during the «dancing».

Aerion was silent. Everyone was silent. Leaning over, the guy simply said quietly, in a slippery romantic voice: "Don't be afraid of him, darlin'." He stroked the snake's head with his fingers, then raised both hands to it.

Girl's head was slightly unsteady, as if nodding; her vision was slightly double. 'What had happened to her? She should sleep…' "I want to dream of clouds, Aerion." The girl only said in a gentle voice.

Aerion chuckled, twitching his plump lips. While the rest of the teens watched her, pouring another glass of drink. "Clouds? Clouds for corpses, babe," he only said, skeptically, putting his hands on her shoulders and tilting her towards him to she lay against his chest, so that she did not fall back off the log.

Her eyelids were heavy, her head was throbbing, and she closed her eyes. The last thing she saw was her white shirt and shorts. A snake slowly crawled out between their bodies.

The world dissolved into a hazy, dreamlike fog the moment her eyes shut. The warmth of Aerion's chest against her body — the steady rise and fall of his breathing — became the only anchor in a sea of disorientation. She could still feel things faintly… but everything was muted. Distant. The crackle of fire sounded like it was underwater. Someone whispered something low — too far to understand. A hand brushed hair from her forehead briefly before retreating again. The snake slithered away from between them without causing alarm… vanishing into shadows as quietly as it had appeared on her earlier that night.

•─────⋅☾ ○ ☽⋅─────•

After leaving the room and washing herself, she came downstairs, all disheveled and in her pajamas, her face slightly puffy, either from too much sleep or from stress.

The house smelled like lemon cleaner and dust. Her mom's vacuum hummed steadily as she cleaned the living room, her back to her. Her dad wasn't inside — she heard the muffled sound of a hammer from outside. Probably fixing something in that shed. Trying to be a «real Texan,»as he saw it.

"Hi, Mom," she said in her childish tone, jumping over the vacuum cleaner and into the kitchen. A little guilt for sleeping while she cleaned popped into her head. But she just opened the fridge.

Her mom turned off the vacuum with a click — her smile warm despite her tired eyes. "Morning, sweetie," she said, dusting her hands on her apron. The fridge was well‑stocked. Girl's plate from last night sat there — covered in plastic wrap.

"Need help?" girl asked, nodding towards the vacuum cleaner, taking last night's dinner from the fridge, which she had missed. Her stomach was growling, and she felt like she was going to throw up.

Her mom shook her head — gentle but firm. "No, honey. Go eat," she said, waving her toward the microwave. The food smelled good — leftover fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Her stomach growled louder. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water without being asked… motherly instinct again.

"Thanks," SonTeri said, smiling sweetly at Mom, and there was only a cozy warmth in her chest. She started eating from her plate while Mom wiped dust in the living room. Girl heard sounds from the barn. "Is Daddy busy? Thinking of going from pilot to farmer?" Teenage sarcasm.

Her mom chuckled — a soft, tired sound. "He's figuring things out," she said diplomatically. She knew her dad's frustration… and his stubbornness. The barn noises continued — her dad hammering, maybe sawing. The man clearly wasn't giving up on this farm fantasy yet. Meanwhile, the chicken was crispy and salty in her mouth — a small comfort in the chaos of Texas life.

As she ate, she glanced briefly at the window behind her, above the sink at the Targaryen ranch. Mom was brushing hairs off the couch and pillows, talking about applying to the local high school. Her senior year. Her parents' work had forced her to move here, and she had to change schools right in her senior year? Sucks. "A-pplying?" she said, trying not to wince. A bead of sweat ran down her neck.

Her mom nodded, still dusting. "Yeah, the school district's pretty small. But they've got a good senior program," she said — trying to sound optimistic for her. She knew her daughter didn't like it.

SonTeri just sighed, rolling her eyes but, "Moooom," laying down with her entire upper body on the table, almost hitting the plate. "This is some kind of creepy village."

Her mom paused, turning to look at her with a sympathetic frown. She knew that sigh. That eye‑roll. The teenage despair was palpable. "I know, baby," she sighed back — because she did know. "It's not Minnesota… but it won't be forever." A weak comfort. She hated this too — the isolation, the lack of shops, the ranch stench in the air.

"These people don't like me," she remembered the sideways glances of the residents. Those young sinners from the drive‑in. How they didn't like that she was with Aerion. "Nobody liked me in Minnesota anyway, but… it's different here." It was like the city was watching her, the residents' glances were like bugs on her skin.

Her mom set down the duster, turning fully to her now. Her face softened with real concern — not just polite sympathy. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly. She hadn't noticed the stares… or maybe she chose not to. The ranch life was insular. Gossip spread fast here — especially about newcomers.

"Nothing…" Girl closed herself off, not wanting to worry her mom. "I'm just not from around here… you know that," she mumbled, stuffing her mouth with food again.

Her mom studied her — her mother's intuition screaming that something was wrong. But she didn't push. Not yet. "Yeah… I get it," she murmured, resuming her dusting with a sigh. "Small towns are cliquey." A half‑hearted attempt to relate.

"Aerion says he'll protect me," girl fiddled with the handle of her mug. "He's not particularly popular here either. Well, half the town…" Pause. "We're similar." She seemed to be lost in her memories of when they had been in the town together. "He also went to this school… he graduated this year."

Mom was distracted again, turning to her daughter. At first, she looked thoughtful at her words. Then she forced a smile. "That's good, dear. Maybe he'll tell you about school or show you around?" She thought that maybe if her boyfriend got involved, her daughter would stop being so capricious about everything being a 'hole.'

Girl rolled her eyes. "I don't know… he's busy."

Her mom nodded, but her smile faded slightly. She got it — her frustration. Aerion was busy, the town was cold, and she was stuck in this weird limbo. "Well… maybe he'll have time this weekend?" she offered weakly. She wanted her to feel less alone here. The vacuum hummed again as she resumed cleaning — filling the quiet with noise.

SonTeri frowned at the news that she now had to live here fully. As if secretly she had been hoping that a job would be enough for a couple of weeks. 'But now she had to take her documents to school. And get a diploma from some creepy school in a godforsaken town in Texas? In the town of… Aerion.' "Sucks" She sulkily said, sitting in the kitchen with her arms crossed. Now she didn't really want to help Mom with the cleaning.

Her mom noticed her sulk — the crossed arms, the dark cloud over her head. She sighed quietly, turning off the vacuum again. "I know it's not ideal," she admitted softly. She hated seeing her miserable too. "But it's just… one year. Then college." A weak attempt to silver‑line it — because she had nothing else to offer her right now.

Girl silently rolled her eyes and washed the dishes after herself. While Mom put away the vacuum cleaner, already sorting through the paperwork.

The clink of dishes filled the quiet kitchen. Her mom didn't say anything — just worked beside her, sorting through envelopes and forms for school enrollment. The paperwork smelled like printer ink… official. Real. There was no avoiding this now.

"Are we going… today?" girl asked skeptically, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and raising her eyebrows.

Her mom checked the calendar on the fridge. "Yeah, probably this afternoon," she said. "They need your records sent by Friday."

—

Some time later, having changed, she go to their car, which felt like it had been heated up by the sun. Dad said goodbye, saying he needed to finish up some work, all grimy and wearing dirty jeans. Mom was sitting behind the driver's seat, her bag of papers thrown back.

The car screamed heat the second she opened the door. A wave of scorched air hit her face. The leather seats were practically burning. Her mom cranked the AC — blasting it full‑power — but it would take forever to cool down. Girl buckled up, adjusting her sunglasses. Ready for this boring errand: school enrollment.

The drive to school was short — just a few miles down the dusty ranch road. Fields blurred past, cows grazing lazily. The Summerhall sign loomed ahead: WELCOME TO SUMMERHALL TOWN, TEXAS. Her mom hummed quietly to herself. SonTeri tapped the window – nervous energy? She didn't know. First time setting foot in this school as a student. Not as Aerion's girlfriend… but as an actual enrolling senior.

The school was a plain brick building — nothing fancy. A flagpole with the Texas flag flapped in the wind. Parking lot's half‑empty. It was summer, so not many kids were around… just a few teachers' cars. Her mom parked and grabbed her paperwork bag. "Ready?" she asked — not unkindly, but clearly bracing for her moodiness.

"No, Mom… It's terrible here." SonTeri said it in a plaintive tone, like a petulant teenager again. Looking out the car window at the yawning teachers and the students left for summer school, smoking cigarettes around the corner. The building was shabby.

Her mom sighed — a tired, sympathetic sound. She knew this wasn't fair. "I know it's not… ideal," she said softly, unbuckling her seatbelt. "But we gotta do this." The teachers glanced over at the new car — curious but not unfriendly. A couple of summer school kids stared too.

Her mom stepped out first, the hot pavement burning through her sandals. She grabbed the paperwork and headed toward the school office — determined despite daughters gloom. A summer student leaned against a wall nearby, cigarette dangling. He eyed her as she reluctantly followed her mom. First impression: "Who's this new girl?"

They walked through the school, with its graffiti‑covered lockers, broken fountains, and burnt flowers. While Mom tried to figure out the school map. Girl clutched a packet of documents, looking around. Against the backdrop of the school, her strange T‑shirt and baggy denim shorts, glasses, and foreign face looked alien… like a target.

The hallways were eerily quiet — just a few summer school kids milling around. A couple of them turned their heads as she passed. Some glanced, some stared outright. Her mom found the office door and knocked… but not before noticing a poster: "WELCOME NEW STUDENTS!" with an awkwardly drawn smiley face.

The office lady — a middle‑aged woman with a perm and too much perfume — looked up as they entered. "Can I help you?" she asked, already reaching for enrollment forms. Her mom stepped forward, all polite smiles. "We're enrolling my daughter. She's transferring in for her senior year." A pause. The woman eyed her — the new girl from the ranch family.

"Hel‑lo…" pause. "Mam." SonTeri said with an impassive face and a tone that was rude by the standards of their family, alien to her.

"Alright," woman said, sliding a thick packet across the desk. "Fill these out. Birth certificate too." Her mom started filling out documents as she slumped into a plastic chair — the room smelled like coffee and old paperwork.

The woman stamped a form, then another — efficient but not unfriendly. She typed something into her computer, glancing at her between keystrokes. "You'll be in the senior class," she said matter‑of‑factly. "Classes start in September." A folder got slid toward her mom — her schedule printed out.

Her mom took the folder, flipping it open. She scanned her classes — English, History, Math… basic senior year stuff. "Looks good," she murmured. Then to the woman: "Is there a tour? So she can get familiar?" The woman looked up from her crossword puzzle, her painted eyes lifting, eyebrows raised, as if skeptical. "No," she only said, not as an answer, but as a sign that it was time for them to go.

Her mom caught the woman's tone — the dismissal, she closed the folder with a quiet sigh. No tour. No welcome. "Alright, thanks," she said politely, standing and gathering her bag. The woman nodded, already turning back to her crossword — conversation over.

They walked down the hallway while Mom clicked her sandals slightly annoyedly, but tried not to show it. Girl followed her, just wanting to get away from this heat and stuffiness of the school. Mom needed to go to the principal's office, without her.

Her mom turned toward the principal's office — sign clearly marked above a door at the end of the hall, she squeezed her shoulder briefly. "I'll be quick. Wait here?" The hallway was empty now — just her and a few posters about "College Prep" and "Drug‑Free Lifestyle." The AC hummed weakly, but it didn't help much. A janitor mopped in silence down another corridor.

"Yes," she just responded to the answer.

Her mom disappeared into the principal's office — the door clicking shut behind her. The hallway was dead silent now. Just her, the flickering fluorescent lights, and that weird smell of old floor wax. A fly buzzed near a poster about "Respect Your Teachers." Time crawled. This was going to be a long wait.

Girl was sitting in the hallway, looking at the posters. Seeing a cabinet with prizes at the end of the hallway, she got up to go over and look at the huge flower in a pot next to it.

She stood and examined the intricately twisted sheets, with burnt edges. Until she heard footsteps from behind. A girl.

The footsteps paused behind her. A girl — tall, with bleached blonde hair and a nose ring — stopped a few feet away. She was wearing ripped jeans and a crop top that said "Bite Me." She eyed the burnt art sheets too… then looked at her. "You new?" girl asked — not mean, but not friendly either. Just curious.

SonTeri turned around, looking at the girl and her pointy boots. "Yes."

The girl studied her for a second — her glasses, her Minnesota‑ish clothes. She chewed her gum loudly before smirking. "Oh wait…" she said, popping a bubble. "Ya his new pillow girl yeah?"

"Hm?" SonTeri frowned, not understanding her words through her Texan accent. As she looked her up and down.

The girl grinned — sharp, knowing. "Aerion's girlfriend." She clarified, rolling her eyes like it was obvious. She leaned against the trophy case, arms crossed.

"Oh…" SonTeri hesitated slightly, as if forgetting that everyone should know about them. 'Girlfriend'… his girlfriend. "Yes… yes," she said, trying to sound confident. "What does 'pillow girl' mean?" She tilted her head.

The girl snorted, popping a bubble gum, playing with her heel on the floor. "Are you stupid?" She raised her eyebrows. "A pillow girl. A mat. He's fucking you. Although… I think you're in for two weeks. With your foreignness, maybe three." She checked her nails.

Hearing her words, SonTeri frowned deeper, stamping her feet. "What? No." She said this confidently, as if she was already afraid that it was true. 'But… he wasn't like that, was he?' "He... loves me."

The girl laughed — a sharp, mocking sound. She pushed off the trophy case, looking her up and down like she was naive. "Oh my god," she said, shaking her head. "Aerion doesn't do 'love.' He does sex. That's it." A pause. Then — "Ya really think he with ya for cuddles?"

Hearing the word 'sex', SonTeri was a little taken aback. They hadn't had it. But she suddenly remembered what they do in the barn in the hayloft… what she do… she hesitated a little. "Not… not only sex."

The girl saw her hesitation — the flicker of doubt in her eyes. She smirked, sensing she was right. "Uh‑huh," she drawled, chewing her gum slower now. "So ya two… wha'? Hold hands?" Her tone was sarcastic. Girl clearly thought she was lying to herself.

"I'm not… going to discuss my boyfriend…" SonTeri looked at her sharp eyes and thick layer of black mascara.

The girl rolled her eyes — hard. She wasn't mad, just bored by her defensiveness. "Whatever," she muttered, pushing off the case. "Just saying… Aerion doesn't date. He hooks up." A shrug. Then she turned to leave — boots clicking down the hall.

"Wait…" suddenly SonTeri stopped her, not knowing why.

The girl paused, turning her head slightly to glance back at her. She looked surprised — maybe even a little annoyed — that she had stopped her. "Wha'?" she asked, not unkindly. Just impatient.

Girl's words about Aerion's promiscuity slightly put her down. But inside SonTeri had questions and… for some reason she decided to ask her. "Um…" She looked around. The corridor was empty. She looked at the girl again. 'You shouldn't trust the first person you meet, but… there was no information in this hole.' "I have a question… about…" She cleared her throat. "Relationships…"

The girl raised an eyebrow — surprised, but not dismissive. She studied her for a second, then sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Shoot," she said. Less sarcastic now. Almost… curious about what a naive new girl like her would ask. Aerion's new girlfriend.

SonTeri looked around the hallway again and moved closer to her. "How can I… understand what he likes…" She hesitated… "What do boys like when their…" She swallowed, unable to say out loud.

The girl chuckled louder. Stupid virgin, she thought. She asked, "Have ya jerked him off before? Sucked him off?"

"Only… only the first," SonTeri awkwardly clarified, deep blushing. "Do they like this?"

The girl nodded, her smirk turning almost… instructional. She lowered her voice, like she was about to share forbidden knowledge. "Yeah, they like that. A lot," she said bluntly. "Especially if yer good at it." A pause. Then — "But Aerion? He probably wants more than just a handjob."

"Hm?…"

The girl leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He probably wants ya to suck him off. Or fuck him," she said — no filter, no sugarcoating. She watched her face for reactions — her blush, her wide eyes. "That's… normal for guys like him."

SonTeri's mouth dropped open in shock. "I don't think I can do this…"

The girl pity‑faced her — almost sympathetic. She sighed, popping her gum again. "Then yer screwed," she said bluntly. "Aerion's not the type to be patient. If he wants sex… he expects it." A harsh truth, delivered like a fact of life.

The girl shrugged — like it was obvious. She studied her face, the panic in her eyes. "Look… either ya figure out how to do that stuff," she said slowly, "or Aerion will get bored. And he'll find someone who can."

SonTeri's eyes widened. It was as if these words fell on her head like a piano from a height. The girl turned around and clicked her tongue from here.

"Wait… you won't tell anyone, will you?" 'Aerion would be angry if the whole city found out. Mad.'

The girl paused, then half‑turned back. She gave her a long look — weighing whether to gossip or not. "Relax," she finally said, waving a hand. "I don't care. Not my business." Then she added with a smirk: "But if he dumps ya? The whole town will know. This will be funny."

The girl waved her off with a dismissive hand flick. She was already walking away, her boots echoing down the empty hall. "Good luck, sweetie pie" she tossed over her shoulder — not mean, just indifferent. Then she rounded the corner and disappeared. Leaving her alone with her spiraling thoughts… and the crushing weight of what Aerion might expect from her.

SonTeri slowly sat back down in the waiting chair. Heavy thoughts were swirling in her head.

Her mom stepped out of the office — her face calm, but she could tell she was relieved it was over. She spotted her sitting there, looking pale and lost. "Done," she said softly. Then, noticing her expression: "You okay?" A simple question… loaded with concern now.

"Yeah…" SonTeri got up. "Yeah, it's just... hot."

Her mom nodded, not fully convinced but accepting it. The Texas heat was a decent excuse for moodiness. "Let's go," she said, turning toward the exit. The school felt even more oppressive on the way out — like a prison she had just gotten enrolled in. Girl held the front door open for her, sunlight blasting through as she stepped outside.

The car burned again as soon as she opened the door. Her mom cranked the AC to max, wiping sweat from her brow. She started the engine — no words yet. Just silence. The drive back to the ranch was long… quiet… heavy with everything that had just happened at school.

The radio flickered on — some country station playing softly. Her mom hummed along, but it was half‑hearted. The tension wasn't gone. The ranch road appeared in the distance — dusty, flat, endless. Same as always. No escape from this new reality yet… just a slow crawl back to her home.

The car rumbled over the dirt road, kicking up dust. Her mom kept her eyes on the road — but girl caught her glancing at her every now and then. Worried. The radio song faded out, replaced by static… then another twangy country ballad. A cow stared blankly as they passed a pasture. Nothing changed here. Ever.

The car stopped in front of the house. Mom turned off the engine. Her dad was still out back — hammering sounds echoed from the shed. Mom sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I'm gonna start dinner," she said softly, like she was giving her space to… process whatever had just happened at school today.

"Help?" she said quietly, although she was still lost in her thoughts as she got out of the car.

Her mom paused, then nodded — appreciating the offer. "Yeah, that'd be nice," she said, heading toward the kitchen door.

—

The fridge was open already. Mom pulled out chicken and vegetables — probably planning fried chicken again. Girl could chop veggies or stir things. Simple tasks… to distract from her spiraling mind.

They bustled around the kitchen. She was already biting her lip. 'Should she ask Mom about this? About what happened yesterday, what she had done to him. What that girl had said about Aerion. Or… better not.' The cross on her neck twitched every time she grated a vegetable.

Mom kept her back to her — focusing on seasoning the chicken. The air smelled like garlic and paprika. Every time girls neck moved, the cross felt heavy. A reminder of… everything. A silence hung between them — not awkward, just full of things left unsaid.

Mom finally spoke, breaking the quiet. "You were quiet in the car," she said, not accusing — just observant. She was stirring a pot on the stove, didn't look at her yet. Just waited… giving her room to answer — or not.

SonTeri turned her head. "Huh?"

Mom turned slightly, wooden spoon in hand. She studied her face — the tension, the distracted chopping. "Something on your mind?" she asked gently. Not prying… just offering an opening if she wanted to talk. The sizzle of chicken in the pan filled the space between her question and whatever she might say next.

Girl turned away, going back to grating vegetables. "I don't know… maybe a new school?" she said almost sarcastically. As if that would remove suspicions about something else. 'About him.'

Mom sighed — she got the sarcasm. The bitterness. She flipped a chicken piece in the pan, not pushing further. "I know it's hard," she said quietly. "But you'll make friends." A mom‑answer. Polite optimism, even if she didn't fully believe it either.

"I don't need friends." Pause. "Not here…." 'Not when she had… him.' There was the sound of cooking in the kitchen.

Mom hesitated — the sizzle of chicken filling the pause. "Is it… about Aerion?" woman finally asked, careful but direct. Her tone wasn't accusatory — just genuinely curious if that was part of her daughters moodiness today.

"What exactly?" SonTeri asked, biting her inner cheek. And continuing to rub, more insistently.

Mom paused — the chicken forgotten for a second. She wiped her hands on her apron, turning to face her properly. "I mean… are things okay with him?" she asked. Not suspicious — just checking in like a mom would. 'A normal question… but loaded, given what that girl had said today.'

SonTeri continued working with a pause. Thinking over the options in milliseconds. 'Should she tell her or not.' The cross on her neck felt like it was strangling her with its chain. 'No. No. I can handle it. My parents... won't approve.' "We're okay… he's a good guy, you know that," she said almost hastily.

Mom nodded — accepting her answer, but not entirely convinced. She saw the haste. The defensiveness. Moms were good at reading that. "Okay," she said softly, turning back to the stove. "Just… you know we're here if something's wrong." A quiet offer — no pressure. But it hung in the air between them.

"Yes," girl said almost with a smile. Thoughts were racing through her head. 'About him. About what he would demand of her now. That girl's words, that Aerion would leave her if she didn't give him sex and...' Lost in thought, she accidentally cut her finger. She threw the carrots, with a gasp. Blood spurted onto the grater and the grated carrots.

Mom whirled around at the sound of the knife clattering. Her eyes went wide — blood on girls finger, on the counter. "Oh my god—!" woman gasped, rushing to her. "Let me see." She grabbed a dish towel and pressed it to her cut — not scolding yet, just reacting.

The blood seeped into the dish towel — sharp sting, probably a decent gash. "Hold that," she ordered, already reaching for the first aid kit under the sink. "Deep breath."

Mom wasn't panicking because she was a military doctor. But she was still worried because she was a mom at the same time.

"Deep?" girl asked in a worried tone, feeling a pulsation on her right finger.

Mom nodded, her hands steady as she pulled out antiseptic and a bandage. Military training kicked in — no shaking, no rushing. "Yeah," she said calmly, dabbing the cut with alcohol. It stung. "Breathe through it." Her mom‑heart was beating fast though. Seeing her hurt — even over something small — always twisted her stomach.

SonTeri hissed in pain. "Ouch…" Winced. "Do I need stitches?" Stupid question.

Mom shook her head. She wrapped the finger neatly with gauze, tying it off. "No stitches," she said gently. "Just be careful. And wash your hands more." A light scolding — motherly instinct kicking in. The blood had stopped now.

Mom started fussing around cleaning. The chicken was sizzling on the stove. While Mom went to put the first aid kit. Girls throbbing finger hurt and tingled. She glanced at the bowl of grated carrots already covered in splashes of red blood. She looked at her hand. A thick bandage on her index finger.

SonTeri breathed heavily from dizziness. The sight of blood never really scared her, but it was red… For some reason it reminded her of… Aerion… She sighed heavily, thinking about him again. She looked at the bandage again, bringing only a one finger to her eyes. 'With such a hand she wouldn't be able to help him… «let off steam»… it was strange that she thought about it.'

The kitchen felt too small suddenly. Her bandaged finger throbbed — not bad, but noticeable. Every pulse reminded her of Aerion… and that girl's words. 'What if he wanted something tonight? What if her injured hand made it impossible to… do what he expected? A spiral. Stupid, maybe. But the thought wouldn't leave.'

━─━────༺༻────━─━

Girl washed her hands, dried them on the rough towel, feeling the coarse fabric scrape against her reddened skin. Then she slipped out of the bathroom and moved silently to her room. Fast. Quiet as a mouse, so her parents downstairs wouldn't hear. Every step on the creaking floorboard seemed louder than a gunshot.

She changed her skirt and T‑shirt — the dirty, crumpled ones that still held the smell of hay. Girl hid the skirt in the farthest corner of the closet, behind other clothes. Mom mustn't see what had dirtied it. She mustn't see those stains and start asking questions she had no answers for. SonTeri pulled on sweatpants and another T‑shirt — the first thing that came to hand. Gray, oversized, with some ridiculous print. Indifferent. Everything was indifferent except for one thing — the noise in her head.

She froze by the bed, staring at the rumpled sheets. Her hands still remembered — the rough skin of his fingers, the warmth of his body, the strange smoothness and roughness of what she had touched. She clenched her fists, trying to stop the memory. Useless. It had already burrowed into her memory, like the smell of hay had burrowed into her hair.

Everything that had happened earlier, in that barn, ran through her head again and again, like a scratched record. 'Literally her first sexual experience? Strange. It was strange to touch a man like that… so intimately, so openly.' And even stranger was the feeling inside her — that pulling, warm, vague sensation she couldn't understand. She didn't know if it was pleasure, shame, or something in between. But she knew she wouldn't discuss this with her parents. 'They would get angry… at her… at Aerion. Especially her father. Especially after that conversation on the co, when he had looked at her so sternly and talked about boundaries.'

She took a deep breath, adjusted her glasses, and left the room. She went down to the first floor. The heat continued to boil, like water in a saucepan in their kitchen. The air was thick and heavy, settling on her skin like a sticky film. Her parents were sitting on the couch, no longer bored — already watching some movie on TV. The screen flickered with blue and red explosions. Girl sat quietly on the edge of the couch, trying not to attract attention.

Touching the surface of the couch with her hands — soft, almost rough fabric — she suddenly remembered what her boyfriend's penis had felt like. Warm, pulsing, alive. She jerked her hands away as if burned. And quickly glanced at her parents. Her father was watching TV. Her mother was watching her. Inside her, a storm of emotions raged: shame, confusion, a strange longing… and guilt. Especially guilt. She bit her lip, adjusting her glasses that had slipped to the tip of her nose from sweat.

"You okay, honey?" her mom asked, turning to her. Voice soft, but attentive. She always noticed details.

"Yeah… yeah, so what?" SonTeri cleared her throat, moving closer. Too fast. Too deliberately.

Her mom frowned — she knew that tone. That fake "yeah" voice. She reached out, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from her daughter's forehead. "You're all flushed," she murmured, frowning deeper. "How outside? It's so hot today…" Pause. "How's Aerion?" Her thumb grazed her temple — checking for fever. Motherly instinct kicking in.

"He's fine…" SonTeri almost inhaled when she heard his name. An image flashed in her mind: the haystack, his hands on her waist, his breath at her ear. How he had looked at her — demanding, impatient, hungry. She remembered how she had forgotten their glass in his stall. Girl glanced quickly at her father, as if he could read her mind. "He went back to work… fixing the stall lock."

Her mom nodded, but her eyes lingered — searching her face for more. She wasn't stupid. She could see her daughter was acting… off. "Did you two have fun?" she asked, keeping it light. Casual, like she was just making small talk. But there was something careful in her tone… a quiet probe beneath the surface question.

'Fun? Did we have it? Did he like it? He said yes. Did I like it? It was weird and… awkward. But I liked his warmth. His closeness. His voice when he breathed so heavily… Is this how intimacy works between a couple? Can this even be called intimacy?' SonTeri noticed she was a little lost in her thoughts; her parents were looking at her.

"Oh yeah… he was busy… and I went home," she squeezed out, trying to keep her voice steady.

Her mom studied her for a long moment. She exchanged a quick glance with her dad. He shrugged, focusing back on the TV. "Okay," she said slowly. Not pushing… but clearly not fully convinced either.

The room settled into quiet again — the movie's dialogue filling the silence between them all. The silence stretched, heavy with things unsaid. Her dad flipped through channels. Her mom leaned back, still side‑eyeing her occasionally. A commercial played — loud and obnoxious. The fridge hummed in the kitchen.

After a while, Mom got up and kissed her on the top of her head as she went into the kitchen to cook dinner. Her dad and she were left alone in front of the TV. Girl awkwardly sit, stealing glances at her father, and every time she looked at his profile, a memory flared in her head: what she had done to the boy with her hands… next to the house… next to his parents… with his father just a few hundred meters away.

"Dad…" she started quietly. The words stuck in her throat. It was gnawing at her from inside. She had to ask.

Her dad turned his head slightly at the sound of her voice. He was never a talkative man — always more about actions than words. "Hm?" he grunted, pausing the movie with the remote. Dark eyes landed on her… waiting. The TV screen flickered — some action hero frozen mid‑shot.

"Um… can I ask you something?" She nervously fiddled with the protruding thread of the pillow in her hands, not looking at him.

Her dad set the remote down slowly — fully turning toward her now. Serious. No jokes. Just that quiet, patient focus he reserved for serious conversations. "Course," he said gruffly. His voice was low — not unkind, but not warm either. The living room felt smaller suddenly… like the walls were closing in on her.

"What can I do?" She finally looked up at him. "Like in a relationship… with Aerion…" Girl asked directly. 'It was strange — talking to her father about boys.'

Dad knew she had never had any friends in Minnesota, let alone guys. He knew that his daughter was a bit uninformed about such things.

Her dad blinked — surprised. He hadn't expected this. 'Aerion? Relationships? This was… new territory for him.' He rubbed his jaw, thinking. His face remained unreadable. He would have liked to answer "nothing." Not even allow hand‑holding. But he couldn't. His daughter would be offended. However, he wouldn't give this boy anything more. "Just sit…" he finally said.

"Just sit?" she frowned, not understanding.

Her dad shifted — uncomfortable. He wasn't good with this. Not his thing. "Yeah," he finally muttered. "Sit. Talk to him." A pause. Then, awkwardly: "Do… normal stuff." 'What the hell is «normal stuff»? Holding hands? Watching TV together? Going to the movies? He had no idea either.'

"What's not allowed?" she asked carefully, looking at her father and biting her inner cheek.

Her dad's jaw tightened — now he got it. This was about boundaries. "No sneaking around," he said firmly, pointing a calloused finger at her. "No closed doors. No… whatever that boy wants in private." He wouldn't say 'sex' — too crude for her — but the implication was clear: Keep it respectable.

She sat silently. Eyes wide. Nervously. She had broken the entire list in half a day. 'Did she regret it?… Didn't know. Aerion said everyone did it. But then why was it forbidden? Was it forbidden in the Bible?' Girl cleared her throat, feeling panic rising inside. 'Dad would be angry…' She remained silent and just nodded. "Yes."

Her dad narrowed his eyes — studying her guilty face. Something was off. He knew it. "You sure?" he pressed, voice deeper now. More authoritative. "Aerion ain't… pressuring you?"

"No… not pressing…" 'I don't mind, do I? I love him. I feel bad without him… and he loves me. What's the problem?' But the words sounded false even to herself.

Her dad squinted — he didn't believe her. Not fully. He knew Aerion — knew his type. The cocky ranch hand with too much confidence, too handsome, too arrogant. "Hmph," he grunted, unsatisfied. "If that boy ever makes you feel… wrong, you tell me." A pause. Then, gruffly: "You're my daughter."

SonTeri looked at him, feeling the weight of his words. This wasn't just advice — it was a warning. Aerion had a leash now. "What will you do?" she asked directly. Strange, but the question slipped out on its own. As if she wanted to know what could happen to Aerion. 'Am I worried about him? Well, he's my boyfriend.'

He didn't answer right away. Just stared at her like he was picturing Aerion in a ditch somewhere. "I'll talk to him," he said finally — voice calm, but laced with quiet threat. "Man to man." A pause. Then: "And if that don't work… other things."

The 'other things' were very vague… and very terrifying.

"Um…" She hesitated a bit. Then she got up. "This will never happen, Dad…" "I'll go to my room."

Her dad watched her stand — his expression unreadable. He didn't say anything else. Just nodded once, stiffly. The second she turned to leave, the TV turned back on — the movie resumed with gunfire and explosions. Dad's mood: not happy. But he let it go… for now.

Girl walked into her room and collapsed onto the bed. 'It was all so complicated… all these relationships… her own feelings. She couldn't talk to her parents about it… she couldn't even Google it in this isolated Texas. Were there any advice books anywhere? How could a teenager navigate their sex life?' She had never thought about it in Minnesota… she had never thought about it before Aerion. 'Was she going to burn in hell for… masturbating a... boyfriend?' She sat up on the bed, wrapping her arms around her knees.

The room was silent — just the hum of the ceiling fan above. She stared at her Bible on the nightstand. The one she had read since childhood. 'What does it say? Is intimacy a sin outside marriage? Was what I did today… wrong?' Her stomach twisted — guilt mixing with curiosity, confusion. No books. No internet here to Google answers. Just… her thoughts and that heavy book on scripture.

She didn't pick up the Bible. As if she was afraid that she would actually find something against it there… as if she was afraid or… as if she wanted to think that this was allowed? 'Or… she wanted to be with... him. Just to be. Without thinking about the consequences.'

The Bible sat there — untouched. A moral boundary she was too scared to cross. She didn't want the answer if it condemned her. She wanted to believe this was okay… that loving Aerion wasn't sinful. A soft knock on her door made her jump. "Dinner's ready," her mom called through the wood — gentle, like she sensed her turmoil but wouldn't push.

SonTeri hesitated a little before answering. She felt sick. Nausea rose in her throat. "Mom, I won't… I'll go to bed early," she said through the door, trying to keep her voice steady.

Her mom paused — hesitant. "Okay, honey," she said softly, her voice laced with worry. "I'll leave a plate for you in the fridge." A few seconds later, girl heard her footsteps retreat down the hall.

The room was quiet again… just her and her spiraling thoughts in the dim bedroom light.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with that strange feeling in her lower stomach that wouldn't go away. She got up and locked the door. Quietly. SonTeri didn't know why, but her brain had given her this idea… something grew in her chest, warm and troubling.

The click of the lock was loud in the quiet room. Her heart pounded. Something was stirring. A weird, heavy warmth in her chest — curiosity? Longing? Loneliness? Aerion wasn't here. The barn was far away. But his face — the smell of hay, the roughness of his hands, his voice when he breathed heavily and fast — it all replayed vividly in her memory.

SonTeri took out the sketchbook hidden among her clothes in the closet and sat down on the bed. The very page with his drawing… the one she had drawn when they were still... friends. 'He's handsome… he's my boyfriend… does that mean everything's okay?' Girl traced his face on the paper with her finger. His eyes, his lips, his sharp cheekbones. She remembered how he had put his hand on top of hers, showing her how to do it… his genitals to the touch… warm, pulsing, alive. She breathed heavily… either from shame or guilt or something else.

The sketch stared back at her — Aerion's sharp features, his smirk, the way she had captured the light in his eyes. He had been just a neighbor then. Just her friend. Now he was… this all. Her hands remembered what they had touched today. Her body remembered how close he had been. A flush crept up her neck — shame? Guilt? Or something hotter, more confusing? The sketchbook felt heavy in her lap suddenly.

She lay on her side, bringing her knees up, hugging her sketchbook… trying to get rid of the lump in her chest that wouldn't go away and wouldn't let her breathe.

She curled tighter. Like hiding from something scary. But it wasn't fear. It was too warm for that. Too restless. Aerion's image in the drawing felt… distant now. Not enough. She wanted him — the real him — not just lines on paper. She wanted to feel his warmth, his breath, his hands on her skin. The lump stayed stubbornly lodged there… aching, unresolved.

The minutes stretched — silent, heavy. She stared at the ceiling, feeling something dark and troubling grow in her chest. She bit her lip… something came to her mind… Girl frowned, lowering her hand down, slowly, squeezing another sketchbook… but then, she saw his face before her eyes… no. SonTeri raised her hand… she… wouldn't do this now… she couldn't… couldn't do this without him…

SonTeri mechanically got up, hiding the sketchbook under the pillow. Blushing and burning all over… from her thoughts… from her frustrated initiative. 'No. No. No.' She almost fell out of bed, trying to get off. Girl dropped to her knees in front of the bed, folding her palms. Her fingertips were cold, but her cheeks were burning. The feeling inside her, below… did not go away. It pulsed, warm and persistent, like something alive.

She whispered a prayer, as if she were dying… whisper and whisper… begging for forgiveness for 'sins'… but what did she consider a sin? Touching a boy she loved? The desire he had awakened in her? Or the simple fact that she wanted to do it again?

The prayer came out shaky — words tangled, breath uneven. She didn't even know what she was asking for. Forgiveness? Clarity? A way to stop feeling this… thing? But God felt far away. Like the ceiling was too high, the room too quiet. Her folded hands were cold. Her knees pressed into the carpet.

SonTeri lay down on the floor. The floor was cold, pleasantly cooling her heated skin. She pulled her knees to her chest, curling into a ball. 'Aerion… after everything he left me there? I gave him release and he? Maybe he didn't like it? I'm inexperienced. I don't know anything. I'm just a stupid city girl who doesn't know how to be with a boy.'

All thoughts swarmed in her head, mixed with apologies. To whom? To God? To herself? To Aerion? A tear rolled down her cheek, onto the floor, leaving a dark spot on the carpet. She fell asleep. Her black hair spread out on the terry carpet, her pajamas stuck to the floor dust. It wonder what she sees in her girlish dream?

The kitchen was loud with her parents' chatter — her mom fussing over nutrition, her dad arguing that coffee counted as breakfast. Sunlight streamed through the windows, making the heat even more oppressive. A normal morning. Peaceful. Aerion felt far away right now.

"Ugh, it's already so hot," she complained, wiping sweat from her own brow. Her dad grabbed the remote and cranked the AC up higher. The fridge hummed loudly… but it barely helped. A fly buzzed around the fruit bowl — annoying.

"Texas…" SonTeri said simply, raising her eyebrows sarcastically, almost reproachfully, as if she still hadn't forgotten the hurt of moving to this hole from the city a month ago. She gulped down her orange juice, not black coffee… no need.

Her dad chuckled at her tone — knowing full well she still hated Texas. "Yeah, yeah… it's hell," he joked, taking a swig of his black coffee. Her mom sighed dramatically. "We'll get used to it. The AC will save us." But even she sounded unconvincing — fanning herself with a magazine as sweat beaded on her forehead.

The AC whirred louder, finally kicking in with cold air. Her parents sighed in relief — their faces no longer shiny with sweat. She finished her juice… the glass sweaty from condensation. Outside, birds chirped — too cheerful for how oppressive the weather was. A lazy summer morning. No plans.

Later, the whole family was free. It was the weekend away from the base, and school was a long way off. Everyone was just lounging around the house like a cat, sleepy from the heat. Girl lay on the couch while Dad watched some weird program with men either hitting each other or hugging, even though it was the same sport. She tugged at her hair, lying there bored. The TV blasted the sound of cheering crowds and aggressive tackles. She was bored out of her mind. The couch fabric stuck to her back from sweat. The AC hummed… but even that felt weak against Texas summer laziness. A fly buzzed near the screen — annoying her more than anything else in this moment.

Girl looked out the kitchen window from afar, her head thrown back while lying down. Biting her lip, she rose up on her elbows. "I'll go to Aerion…" she spoke up, and her mother, reading a magazine in the kitchen, paid attention. The parents had accepted their daughter's boyfriend, but they were still trying to get used to the fact that their daughter, who never had friends except for Dunk, didn't communicate with anyone had found a friend in empty Texas, and a boyfriend at that. Lately, they two had been together a lot. Although parents were gone for three weeks, of course, it was inevitable.

Her mom looked up from her magazine — pausing mid‑page. Aerion. The name still felt weird in the house, even though they had met him. "Okay…" she said neutrally. Not disapproving… just adjusting to this new version of her: a girl with a boyfriend. It was harder for the father get used to it. His only child, a little daughter, was incredibly strange and unsociable. Like a newly hatched chick. The guy… he would be against any man, of course, except Dunk, but this southerner… white… and a little wild… even though he was working… even though he was approved. He looked at her childish face, then at the cross around her neck. He hesitated, wondering if he should remind her about chastity or it would infuriate the teenager.

Dad cleared his throat — awkward, struggling. "You… be careful out there," he finally muttered, eyes back on the TV. Not a full lecture. Just a quiet warning from a man who didn't know how to talk about this stuff. Her mom watched him with sympathy… then gave her a small smile. "Don't stay out too late."

"I'll just stand there like always… he's working," she said, getting up and going to the kitchen, half‑listening to her parents' words, wondering what he was doing today. "I'll take him a glass of milk, he sometimes forgets about dehydration…" SonTeri spoke in a casual tone, opening the refrigerator and taking a milk.

Her dad's heart clenched at the domestic normalcy of it. A glass of milk. For Aerion. Like a wife would do. This was his daughter — the same kid who cried when he dropped her off at kindergarten, who hid behind him during playdates. Now she was making drinks for some roughneck neighbor? Wild. He didn't say anything… just stared at the screen, pretending to focus on football while his mind raced.

"Bye," that was all she said, then the creak of the door and the dull sounds of footsteps on the stairs.

Father frowned. His military expression. Scratching his stubble. Her dad scratched his stubble — hard, frustrated. The house felt too quiet now. Aerion wasn't Dunk. Aerion wasn't some safe soldier boy. He was a real man — with calloused hands, cigarette breath, probably rough words.

𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸

𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸

SonTeri approached some paddock on the neighbors' property. Mister Maekar and Egg had gone off somewhere again; she saw Daeron on the porch in morning, probably sleeping in the house again with a hangover. She saw Aerion, dirty again, again rubbed, and again hot… Girl walked carefully, stepping in small patent leather shoes through the mud, a tattered skirt, an oversized T‑shirt with paint stains and a strange print with a car. Her hair was stuck to her face, her glasses almost steamed up from the heat. She tried not to spill the large glass of milk in her hand.

Aerion didn't look up as she approached — focused on the heavy lock, sweat dripping down his neck. The bull chewed lazily nearby, ignoring everything. He was in a mood. Tired. Hot. Possessive rage simmering from last night's frustration with her. Then he finally sensed her presence… and slowly turned his head to glare at her over his shoulder.

Aerion's glare was icy — unimpressed by her sweaty, mud‑splashed appearance. The milk glass in her hand? He didn't care. "What?" he grunted, voice sharp. No greeting. Just pure irritation that she was interrupting his work. He wiped grease on his jeans… then waited for an explanation from her like a demand.

She blinked slightly, noticing his frown, "hi…" she just said quietly, looking at the bull, then back at the guy. The tools were lying on the ground.

Aerion ignored her "hi" — still scowling. He grabbed a wrench, twisting the bolt harder than necessary — like he was taking his anger out on the metal. The bull lifted its head, chewing. Watching her with dumb curiosity.

"I brought milk…" she said stupidly. "That is, I thought you were working late… and… I wanted to visit you…"

Aerion paused — wrench hovering over the bolt. He finally looked at the milk. Then at her. Her sweaty face, her dumb hopeful expression. Something dark flashed in his eyes — not anger exactly… more like annoyance that she was being sweet when he was pissed. "Put it there," he muttered, jerking his chin toward a dirty crate by the fence. Not "thanks." Not "come here."

SonTeri didn't put the glass down, still clutching it in her hand. "Are you angry?" she finally said… sincerely. The toe of her shoe was dirty with something.

Young man stared at her — her grip on the glass, her dirty shoe, that stupidly sincere question. He wasn't used to being called out like this. Most people avoided him when he was in a mood. "Yeah," he admitted flatly. No explanation. Just raw honesty. The bull snorted… and Aerion kicked a pebble toward it without breaking eye contact with her.

Girl hesitated. Glancing at the bull again. 'Who was more dangerous, the bull or her boyfriend?' "At me?" she said quietly.

Aerion narrowed his eyes — her question irritated him more. 'Of course it was at her. Who else would he be pissed at? But not because of anything she had done today. It was the lingering frustration from last night… her stupid virginity shyness, how he had to jerk off alone like a pathetic loser.' "Yeah," he repeated, louder this time. Voice rough with frustration. The bull chose that moment to lurch forward… snorting like a threat. Boy didn't even flinch — too busy glaring daggers at her.

"I…" She awkwardly adjusted her glasses, flinching from the bull. The gears were spinning in her head, wondering what she had done. "For what?"

Aerion dropped the wrench with a loud clang — finally turning fully toward her. His jaw was clenched. The bull? Forgotten. Right now, it was just her and his fury. "Last night," he snapped, like that explained everything. "You didn't kiss me. Didn't do shit." Her shyness last night. Her awkward little pat on his arm instead of a kiss. The way she still acted like some innocent kid when he wanted… more.

SonTeri was taken aback… remembering yesterday. She didn't really understand all this. "Sorry…" she said quietly. "I didn't know you had to kiss all the time…" They didn't teach that in church.

Aerion blinked — stunned by her cluelessness. "Bull balls," he muttered, running a grease‑stained hand through his hair. "You're serious?" He stared at her like she had just said the sky was green. 'No one told her? Her parents? Church boys?' The bull sneezed loudly — even it seemed confused by this conversation.

"I was worried… I thought you were working a lot and you forgot to take water…" SonTeri handed him a glass. "Milk is good for you in this abnormally hot weather… Sorry for ignoring you," she said awkwardly.

Aerion took the glass — finally. The cold milk touched his scorched skin. He drank deeply, not even thanking her. But the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. The bull watched him drink with mild interest. Her apology… it softened him a tiny bit. Not enough to stop being pissed, but enough that he didn't slam the glass to her or throw it away.

Aerion finished the milk in a few gulps. Milk dripped onto the dirt. He tossed glass aside… then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Better," he muttered, voice slightly less hostile. Still not sweet. But less explosive. The heat really had been getting to him… and hydration helped that anger fade a fraction.

SonTeri raised the corners of her lips, smiling with her lips pursed. "What are you doing?" She looked behind him, at the paddock, with interest. All this farming was alien to her.

Aerion wiped sweat from his brow, then gestured to the paddock. "Fixing the lock. Bull got out yesterday — almost trampled Daeron," he explained, tone gruff but not hostile anymore. He picked up the wrench again… showing her what he was doing without words. Twisting bolts. Reinforcing hinges. The bull watched them both with lazy curiosity, chewing on a stray piece of hay.

She watched him work, slightly marking time. "Will he run away now?" girl asked, with the excitement of a city girl.

Aerion snorted at her excitement — amused despite himself. "Nah. Not unless I mess up," he said, testing the strength of the new lock with a rough shake. The bull didn't seem interested in escaping… just happy munching on grass. Aerion glanced at her — her wide eyes, her city‑girl curiosity. Stupid.

She watched his hands in fascination. "You're so good at this… awesome."

Aerion's lips twitched — almost a smirk. "I do this shit every day," he muttered, but there was pride in his voice now. The anger was gone… replaced by quiet satisfaction. He finished tightening the bolt with a satisfying click… then wiped his hands on his jeans, looking at her properly for the first time since she had arrived.

Running her gaze over the surprised face with glasses, tousled black hair, stuck to her face with sweat. An enormous T‑shirt with a shitty print, wrinkled and stained with paint, as if she had drawn not on paper but directly on the clothes, a skirt, and patent leather shoes, not afraid to stain them with cow shit and urine. It was disgusting. Unkempt. But… it was hers. Her weirdness. Something possessive flared in him — not soft affection, but a dark satisfaction that she was here. That she came to see him, even though he had been mean. "You look like shit," he said bluntly… but then reached out and flicked a speck of mud off her cheek with his thumb.

She just laughed awkwardly. "I'm on home duty look today."

Aerion smirked. "I'm free now," he said, turning around and checking the lock again with his eyes. "Go hang out," he said casually, not as a suggestion. Fact. He started collecting tools from the ground.

She reached down and helped him gather his tools, just out of politeness, as she had been raised. Squatting down and handing him the iron, oily tools with her slender fingers. "Hang out?"

Aerion took the tools from her — her small hands covered in his grease now. He nodded, tossing them into a rusted toolbox. "Yeah. Hang out," he repeated, like it was obvious. Then he grabbed her wrist — not rough, but firm — and started leading her somewhere. No asking if she wanted to.

—

Boy dragged her to a huge barn that smelled of hay and old wood. He opened the door, locking it behind him. She looked around the huge barn; there were stacks of hay everywhere. He approached the stairs leading to the second floor of the barn.

"We're going to hang out… here?" girl asked with urban skepticism.

Aerion ignored her skepticism, marching up the stairs. The second floor was a dusty loft — sunlight streaming through cracks in the wood. Hay bales stacked neatly… He plopped down on it without ceremony, kicking his boots up onto another one. "Yeah. Here," he said again, like this was totally normal hangout behavior for him.

Boy patted the hay bale beside him — commanding her to sit. The barn was quiet, just the sound of birds outside and rustling straw. It was private. No one would bother them.

She pursed her lips. First, glanced at the hay bale, as if searching for bugs, then, so as not to offend him, she sat down next to him, but at the usual distance. The hay pricked her buttocks through her skirt, but it seemed the southerner, sprawled out like he was on a feather couch, wasn't bothered by this problem.

Aerion stretched like a cat — completely unfazed by the hay poking him. He was used to it. This was his version of comfort. She, though? She was sitting stiffly, clearly uncomfortable. Aerion side‑eyed her… then suddenly grabbed her waist and yanked her closer — eliminating that stupid "usual distance" between them.

"It's hot today," girl said, feeling the heat coming off the sweaty guy, but she didn't move away. She looked at the toe of her shoe; it was covered in mud. "Do you think aliens could handle the Texas heat?" said, looking at the crack in the barn boards.

Aerion snorted at her alien question — amused by the randomness. "Fuck no," he said, voice gravelly. "Aliens would melt. Texas heat kills even humans." He leaned back on his elbows… then reached over and flicked a piece of hay off her shoulder. The barn was stuffy. The air smelled like sunbaked wood and sweat. Not romantic… but private.

"Poor things," she said, turning to him. His eyes were strangely intense, as if he hadn't forgotten the insult.

Aerion just stared at her face for a long moment, plump and naive. 'What a fool.' "Fuck 'em, darlin'," he only said rudely; he hadn't brought her here to discuss iron tadpoles. He was certainly amused by her strangeness, like a funny little animal, but now was not the time. He ran his hands from her waist, around her oversized T‑shirt, raising his rough hands to her shoulders. "Are ya thighs hurting?" he asked in a suspiciously sweet tone, casting his deathly blue eyes down to her thighs, placing one rough, calloused palm on one of hers, exposed under her skirt, tanned by the sun.

SonTeri was just mesmerized by his eyes, his sharp features, the fine hairs that had sprouted on his sharp jaw. Feeling his rough palms on her, she felt a heat, but this one was rather different than what she had felt before from his hands. She awkwardly lowered her eyes, either to her shoes or to his hand on her thigh. "It stings a little," girl said quietly, feeling how her T‑shirt had stuck to her from sweat.

Aerion's thumb dragged over her thigh — slow, testing. The skin was warm from the heat… soft. Not used to rough hands. He noticed her shirt clinging. The sweat between them. It didn't gross him out… if anything, it made him more intense. "Hmmm," as if he were singing.

SonTeri sat awkwardly, feeling her cheeks burn, either from the heat or from him. "Your hands are hot… aliens probably have cold ones," she said, feeling the smell of cigarettes, sweat, and probably bull penetrate her nose.

Aerion's expression darkened at her alien talk — like it was stupid, childish. He didn't like being distracted. Didn't like her rambling about space aliens when he was touching her. Without warning, he grabbed the back of her neck — not hard enough to hurt… but firm. A silent command. "Quit yappin'," he muttered… then pulled her in and crashed his lips onto hers.

Aerion kissed her hard — all teeth and possession. No softness. No romance. Just claiming. His other hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss. The taste of cigarettes, sweat, anger… it was overwhelming. The barn was hotter than hell… but he didn't care. He kissed her like he was punishing her for ignoring him last night.

Girl moaned into his mouth in surprise, but closed her eyes, placing her palms on him. The heat and this strange feeling inflamed her. She felt her hair being pulled, but she forgot herself during the kiss. It was still painful and awkward… but she thought she was getting used to it. Feeling his tongue. Until he bit her and squeezed her thigh hard.

Aerion bit her lip — hard enough to sting, not hard enough to draw blood. A warning. A tease. A test. His tongue pushed past hers, dominant… tasting sweat and milk on her. His hand on her thigh squeezed again — possessive. The barn was silent except for heavy breathing… hay rustling under shifting weight. He wasn't gentle. He never was.

Aerion broke the kiss only to bite her bottom lip again — then dragged his teeth down her jaw. He wasn't going for romance. This was ownership. One hand stayed tangled in her hair, yanking it just enough to tilt her head back… exposing more skin for him. The other slid up under that stupid oversized T‑shirt, calloused fingers brushing warm stomach. Aerion paused, pulling away from her lips, breathing heavily. His eyes had become almost blue. He frowned, not from anger, but rather from excitement. "You have to do something," he said in a raspy voice.

SonTeri came to, looking through crooked glasses, breathing heavily, flushed. Forgetting about chastity. Feeling the heat from the hands on her stomach. She held Aerion's hand, pulling it out of her stomach, gently removing it. But the hand remained in her hair. "What to do?"

Aerion's eyes flashed — irritated that she had pulled his hand away. But he didn't snap. Not yet. He took the initiative, already taking her hand in his. His eyes were sharp as a knife. "I'm your man, I work very hard, while you sleep until noon in a princess bed. Do you think I'm underdeveloped?" he said in a deceptively soft voice, but still hoarse.

"Underdeveloped?" She tilt her head, frowning in confusion. Feeling his finger stroke her hand. "No, you are very strong," girl said in an honest tone, with pink cheeks.

Aerion narrowed his eyes — her innocence pissed him off and turned him on at the same time. He squeezed her hand. "Yeah, strong as an ox." He looked into her black berry eyes, squinting. "You're not stupid, are you? Men need to let off steam. Especially strong ones like me." He said it like honey pouring into her ears.

"Steam?" She looked back at him, listening intently, like a student at an academy. "Like… the shooting?"

Aerion blinked — then burst into a short, rough laugh. "Maybe. But ya also know… release tension." He slowly lowered her hand lower to his pants. "And girlfriends should help their men, darlin'." Aerion guided her hand — pressing it firmly against the bulge in his jeans. It was obvious now. What he wanted. His breathing hitched slightly… but his face stayed stern, almost scolding. "You get it?" he murmured, watching her reaction closely. Not gentle. Just demanding.

SonTeri raised her eyebrows, awkwardly pouting her lips, encountering male arousal for the first time. She couldn't move the hand he was holding. Like it had lost its function. Girl looked there, then looked up at the guy. "I…" she stuttered. Feeling a scratchy throat. "No… no… my father said– …" She started.

Aerion cut her off with a sharp click of his tongue. He didn't give a damn about what her father said. "Your dad ain't here," he growled, squeezing her wrist tighter — forcing her palm to press harder against him. His jaw clenched. Impatience flashed in his eyes. He wasn't asking anymore… he was taking.

"But… it's a sin." She whispered, as if her last vocal cords were holding her back. Even though she was already sitting there, pressed against him, enduring the kiss. Still not daring to move her hand to escape his grip.

Aerion rolled his eyes — disgusted by her church‑brain. "Sin?" he mocked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Bullshit." He paused. "We're supposed to be a couple," he said, his tone falsely reassuring. "You know, your parents did this too, otherwise you wouldn't exist," he said mockingly. "You do… love me, right? I'm your man."

She was confused, her face was burning. Her brain was weighing her down, her head was spinning. She was no longer looking at his face, only at her hand, which he was still squeezing. At his bulge in his pants. As if mesmerized. Listening only to his deceptive voice, like a mantra or hypnosis. "Yes… yes, of course. Love y..."

Aerion smirked — victory. He finally got her to agree. Even if it was forced, even if her face was burning with guilt… she had said yes. Without another word, he lifted her trapped hand and pressed a rough kiss to her knuckles — then guided it lower… toward his belt buckle. "Unbuckle it," he ordered quietly. No room for argument now.

"This…" SonTeri looked up at the guy, her gaze either like she was about to cry, or like she trusted him. Feeling his plump lips on her knuckles, hot. "This is normal, right? I'm a good girl, right?" She felt her clothes pressing on her, and her head spinning.

Aerion nodded — patting her cheek like she was a good dog. "Yeah, baby. Good girl," he lied smoothly. He leaned in and kissed her forehead — a twisted version of comfort — before nudging her hand back to his belt. His breathing was heavier now. Impatient. "Just do it," he murmured, voice thick with want. Not cruel… just demanding what he thought he deserved as «your man.»

SonTeri hesitated for half a minute. And with a heavy sigh, glancing back once, as if checking if they were alone, she placed her hand on his genuine leather belt, unbuckling it with her slender fingers. They trembled and she could barely manage it. She glanced up at Aerion, as if once again confirming that she had done the right thing.

Girl unbuckled the belt and just sat there, unable to look away, either out of interest or shock.

Aerion watched her frozen face — her wide eyes, the way she was staring at his unbuckled jeans. He was hard. Obviously. The denim tented over it. "And?"

Girl looked up. The hay was pricking from below. "And?" She sat awkwardly, feeling the heat all over her body.

Young man exhaled through his nose, irritated by her cluelessness. He grabbed her wrist again, this time guiding it to the button of his jeans. "Unbutton."

Aerion waited — impatient, jaw tight. Her clumsy fingers fumbled with the button. He wasn't gentle… just kept his grip firm on her wrist, helping her undo it with rough impatience. The jeans popped open. The zipper followed — slowly sliding down. Heat and tension thickened the barn air.

The zipper zipped down with a soft sound, revealing boxer briefs underneath — plain cotton, slightly wrinkled from the day. Aerion shifted — adjusting so the waistband of his briefs pulled slightly lower. He wasn't shy. Not embarrassed. Just… impatient.

"No… no, I couldn't, Aerion, really…" She pulled her hands away. Nodding her head almost hysterically.

Aerion's face darkened — her panic pissed him off. He grabbed her wrist again, harder this time. Not violent… but unyielding. "Yes, you can," he growled. His voice was low, dangerous. "You said you loved me. You're my girl." He lifted her hand and pressed it against the bulge in his briefs — no escape now.

Aerion pressed her palm down firmly — making her feel the heat, the hardness through thin fabric. He wasn't gentle. Not comforting. Just expected her to obey. "Touch it," he demanded, voice gravelly with frustration and lust. "All of it." The barn was dead silent except for his breathing… and hers, shaky with fear.

She breathed heavily. Unsure. Her fingers touched softly, feeling the heat. "Do you want this?" the girl asked finally, as if she needed confirmation for herself.

Aerion hissed through his teeth at her light touch — too soft, too unsure. It wasn't enough. Not what he wanted. "Yes" he gritted out, then suddenly grabbed her hand and made her squeeze — harder. "Like this." His hips jerked slightly into her grip… desperate for friction. For more pressure.

She took a deep breath, as if she had touched lava. Without taking her eyes off his groin. Something strange inside wanted to open the fabric, to look, a sinful interest. "Does it hurt?" she asked worriedly, her hair falling on her face, she felt heat, and a pressing feeling.

Aerion shook his head — no, it didn't hurt. It ached. He was throbbing. Painfully hard. Without asking, he hooked a finger into the waistband of his briefs… and slowly peeled them down further. There it was. Fully exposed now — thick, flushed… pulsing slightly with blood flow. Aerion watched her face for her reaction — curiosity? Fear? Both?

SonTeri breathed heavily, her eyes felt like they were about to burst. She was shocked by what she saw. Oddly shaped, pink, with light hair. "It's big…" She remembered that usually this organ was supposed to be inside women. She imagined. She felt sick at the thought. Really.

Aerion swallowed hard, watching her awed stare. He was proud. Turned on by how small and clueless she looked compared to him. Without a word, he grabbed her other hand — this time guiding it toward the base… then slowly dragging it upward along the shaft. "Touch," he repeated — the command quieter now, but no less firm. His voice was rough with need.

Her arms were almost limp. She didn't look away, tilt her head to the side, looking at it like an art installation. 'It even looked… beautiful?' "I don't know how to do it, Aerion, you know…"

Aerion exhaled sharply — annoyed, but not surprised. 'Of course she didn't know. Shitty virgin.' So he took over. His calloused hand wrapped around hers, squeezing it tight as a guide… then started moving their joined hands up and down the length in slow strokes. "Like this," he murmured, his breath hot on her ear. Teaching her by force of demonstration.

Her hand trembled, touching the skin. 'Weird. The skin was moving. The hairs tickled.' She felt a rush in her chest, but she didn't understand this strange feeling… or… she felt sick. "Does it hurt?"

Aerion shook his head. It felt good. The rough texture of her inexperienced hand? The way she was nervous and shaky? That was what made it better. "Feels real good," he admitted through gritted teeth, strong solid hips twitching slightly into her touch. His free hand gripped the hay bale beside him, knuckles white from excitation.

SonTeri stopped without noticing it. Looking up at his face, during this moment when he wants something very much, studying his beauty. 'Does he feel good? Because of me? Is he excited? He's more beautiful this way.' "Good?" she mumbled, slowing down.

Aerion's eyes were half‑lidded — dazed with pleasure. He looked… different. Softer. Not the usual scowl. "Yeah," he breathed, voice low and thick. "Keep going." But when she slowed down, he frowned — missing the friction already. Without warning, he pressed her palm back down firmly and guided her strokes to be faster… more purposeful.

Girl frowned slightly as he moved her hand, getting used to it, feeling the strange skin under her palms. Swallowing, feeling something in her lower abdomen, or maybe lower. Then she accidentally touched the skin with her nails.

Aerion's nails dug into her hand suddenly — sharp, punishing. That accidental scratch? It stung. And Aerion didn't tolerate pain — not even a tiny bit. "Careful," he snarled, his voice turning ice‑cold. The sweet haze of pleasure was gone. "Don't scratch me." His grip tightened on her hand… now forcing the strokes to be rougher, more obedient — no room for mistakes anymore. "Squeeze my balls."

She suddenly came out of her trance. "W‑what?" Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Her ears were throbbing as if they were in the snow, she couldn't believe what she was hearing; Aerion pressed his lips together with his teeth, his muscles were tense, his brows were furrowed.

Aerion growled — impatient, frustrated. He grabbed her hand again and yanked it lower, pressing her palm against the sensitive sac beneath him. "Squeeze," he ordered — no gentleness now. Just demand. "Right there." His muscles were coiled tight with tension… jaw clenched. He wasn't asking twice.

SonTeri looked down, lowering her gaze. They were strange, wrinkled, with hair, she grimaced, no longer pretty and pink. Her other hand was still on the shaft, trying not to slow down. "Um… I don't want to touch them, A-aerion..." girl said honestly. But Aerion was irritated that there were interruptions in the pleasure process.

Aerion's face twisted — disbelief, then anger. 'She didn't want to? After everything? After unbuckling his pants, after touching him?' "Too bad," he bit out. Then he grabbed her other hand — the one on the shaft — and shoved it downward too. No choice. She was touching both now. His hips jerked up into her palms, forcing friction.

SonTeri gasped, feeling soft skin, thin and some strange balls. Men were strange. Girl breathed heavily. While Aerion used her hands. She just abstracted herself and ran her eyes over his face, arms, biceps… thighs, his were hard. She returned her gaze to penis, again feeling the balls, she felt nauseous. Aerion breathed heavily, speeding up her hands and giving in with his hips. She blinked nervously several times, feeling heat on her cheeks… feeling a strange feeling inside her… for the first time.

Aerion groaned — low, guttural — his body tensing as pleasure built. Her hands were clumsy, unsure… but the contact was electric. The friction was good. He was lost in it now. His hips piston upward into her palms, chasing his own release. She could feel him getting harder… hotter. Every breath from him was ragged. Close. So close.

Aerion tightened — his entire body coiling like a spring. Then, with a sharp gasp — he came. A shudder rolled through him. His hips stuttered, his hands crushed hers tighter for a second… and then it was over. Panting heavily, he slumped back against the hay bales — eyes closed, spent.

Both her hands were covered in slimy liquid… SonTeri winced, looking at Aerion in surprise. "Are..." she froze "...you okay?"

Aerion opened his eyes slowly — dazed, satisfied. He looked at her… then down at her messy hands. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips. "Yeah," he rasped, voice wrecked. "That was good." No «thank you.» No softness. Just a fact stated bluntly.

She watched his penis fall down, turning into a wrinkled thing. "It fell," girl said, in a distant tone, still sitting with dirty hands.

Aerion cracked one eye open at her words — amused by her detached observation. He was still catching his breath, half‑draped over the hay bale like a sack of grain. "Fell? Nah," he muttered, reaching for his jeans with sluggish movements. Not embarrassed… just tired now. He pulled his briefs up casually, zipping and buckling without rushing — post‑bliss laziness setting in.

Boy wiped his hands on the hay — disgustingly casual. He didn't offer her anything. No towel. No water. Once dressed, he sat up fully and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. The barn was quiet again… just the sound of him smoking and her silent discomfort.

"Did I… did I do it good? You liked it?" she asked awkwardly, blushing. As if she cared about his opinion. 'Like this... what she did should be important... probably.'

Aerion exhaled smoke through his nose, considering her. 'For a virgin? Yeah. It was fine.' "Wasn't bad," he said, shrugging — neither praise nor criticism. Just neutral. He took another drag, then flicked ash onto the barn floor. Just… done.

Then he stood up, holding the cigarette in his teeth and stretching. Adjusting his belt and his dick through his jeans. Casually, as if nothing had happened. He leaned down, kissing her on the cheek, not worrying that he might burn her with the cigarette. "Good, babe," he said and walked away casually. Throwing. "I need to work, my chaste." The kiss was brief — cigarette smoke and all. Just a lazy peck. Then he was gone, boots thudding down the stairs as he left her sitting there in the hay… hands sticky, cheeks warm burn. The barn door creaked shut behind him. She was alone again.

It dawned on her late. SonTeri was just sitting there still. Her hands were dirty and tired after work. Her hair was stuck to her forehead. She was sweating much more. The feeling from below didn't go away, pulling something good down. But a black flower of... something had bloomed in her chest… a feeling like she had been used. A feeling of abandonment. 'Although… he was her boyfriend right?… Am I… am I a sinner?'

The barn was silent now — just the occasional chirp of a bird outside. She was left with her thoughts… and the sticky evidence on her hands. That warm pull in her stomach? The guilt blooming like poison ivy? It was all tangled together.

SonTeri wiped his cum on her skirt. She didn't care anymore. Girl sat in the barn for another hour or two, probably just lying on the hay. When the strange feeling down there passed, she decided to go home. But the guilt and… something else remained inside, as if carved into gravel. This was a first experience… maybe that was good in a relationship. But she would pray a little longer tonight before bed.

The walk home was long — the Texas sun beating down. Her skirt was wrinkled, her shirt stained. Her body felt… different. She didn't cry. Just stared ahead, replaying it all in her head — the touches, the commands, Aerion's satisfied smirk. 'First time. Maybe couples do this? But why does it feel so hollow?' A church hymn hummed in her mind as she approached the house… prayer already forming on her lips.

Girl slipped inside quietly, hoping no one was around to notice her disheveled state. The house was still — her parents likely in their rooms. She headed straight for the bathroom. Turned on the faucet. Scrub her hands under cold water until every trace was gone. 'Wash away. Pretend it never happened. No, though, it was better to pretend it was good.'

━─━────༺༻────━─━

She went downstairs, dressed, ready for a new day. For weeks with her parents. Not alone.

Her mom turned as she entered the kitchen — her face lighting up. "Morning, sweetheart!" She was at the stove, flipping pancakes. The smell of coffee and bacon filled the air. Her dad nodded from his chair… newspaper lowered slightly to glance at her. "Sleep okay?"

"Yes," she said sympathetically. But then, on reflection, she realized that she really did sleep well. All the last nights had been a bit uneventful. Only Aerion helped. But with her parents, it seemed like things were getting better for her. So, there was no need to talk about paranoia anymore. Girl sat down next to her father on the couch. She was so happy she even ignored the Texas heat, although she could see her father sweating slightly.

Her dad pushed the newspaper aside, reaching for his coffee. The Texas heat was brutal — but inside, the AC hummed strong. Her mom fanned herself slightly with a magazine. A comfortable silence settled as they all ate breakfast together… no tension, no awkwardness. For the first time in weeks… she felt safe. At peace.

Her dad took a sip of coffee — eyeing her over the rim of his mug. He noticed her good mood. "You look better today," he said gruffly… which, for him, was basically affection. Her mom smiled to herself as she plated more pancakes — happy to see her relaxed around them again.

SonTeri lifted her face from her pancakes. "Hmm… yeah? Just slept in," she answered quietly, putting a fork in her mouth. "What are we going to do today?"

Her dad shrugged — relaxed, no farm chores today. "Gonna check the mail. Maybe fix the fence if it's not too hot." Her mom added: "I thought we could go to town later… maybe get you some new things?" A rare shopping trip — her way of making up for weeks of loneliness. The offer hung in the air: a normal, fun family day.

Girl smiled a little tensely. She was glad they would get to spend time as a family. 'But this… city… something always happened there. If they went there without Aerion, would everything be okay?' "Sounds interesting." She answered with 'enthusiasm.'

Her mom beamed at her response — clearly excited to take her shopping. Her dad just nodded, unbothered. The town was small… nothing ever happened there. "We'll leave after lunch," her mom said, already mentally planning outfits for her. Aerion wasn't part of the equation today… but maybe that was okay. Just family time.

Breakfast ended, dishes were cleared. Her parents were fiddling with the car. SonTeri was standing by the fence, looking at a strange flower sprouting from it. She was squatting. The sun was baking her head. Girl was so intrigued by the flower that she didn't hear the footsteps.

The footsteps approached — quiet but deliberate. A shadow fell over her — blocking the sun. Then a voice, low and familiar: "What'cha lookin' at?"

Girl looked up to see Aerion, with heavy iron in his hands. It looked like he was dragging something from the city to the ranch. Sweating, a hard worker. A cigarette in his teeth. "Aerion," she smiled slightly.

Aerion paused — letting the heavy iron drop to the dirt with a thud. He yanked the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling smoke through his nose. His eyes locked onto hers — intense even in daylight. "Hey," he said, voice rough from smoking. "Yer folks goin' somewhere?" He nodded toward her parents by the car… then back at her.

Girl stood up, wearing weird socks, knee socks, and a skirt, a short‑sleeved shirt. Like some misunderstood LA artist. She adjusted her glasses, glancing briefly at the car on the side of the road. "Oh yeah… we're heading into town. 'Family day' or something… catching up." She rolled her eyes slightly.

Aerion studied her outfit a smirk tugged at his lips. She always looked like a lost city kid in Texas. "Family day," he repeated — dry tone. "Cute." Then he glanced at the car again… calculating something silently.

Aerion took another drag of his cigarette, crushing it under his boot. Without warning, he stepped closer — closing the distance between them. "You look stupid," he said bluntly.

Then he reached out, flicking one of her glasses frames lightly with a calloused finger.

She blinked a couple of times, like a toy doll. Frowning. "Not at all…" girl said. 'She knew what she was like. She had a style. She was an artist. And she was used to explaining it to her parents. They thought she was going through her teens.' "It's the style, Aerion… Texans wouldn't understand…"

Aerion snorted — amused by her defense of her "style." Texans wouldn't understand? Yeah, probably not. "Right," he drawled sarcastically, "Yer a little artsy freak. It's kinda hot."

She watched the cigarette roll across his teeth as Aerion said the words.

Aerion caught the cigarette with his lips — rolling it to the other side of his mouth. He was relaxed, almost lazy… despite dragging heavy iron earlier. Then he leaned in — close enough that she could smell smoke and sweat on him. "Kiss me," he demanded quietly — not a request. A command.

"Huh?" She was taken aback by surprise.

Aerion leaned in closer — no patience left. "Kiss. Me." A second command, quieter this time… and then he closed the gap himself.

SonTeri hesitated. 'I didn't know how. I didn't know how at all.' She bit her lip, glanced briefly at her parents, busy loading, watched as Aerion lifted the heavy iron from the ground with both hands, his muscles tense. Girl stamped her feet, tapping the stones with her small heels. Then she slowly removed the cigarette from his teeth, the first time she held it in her slender fingers. Excitedly bringing her face closer to his, standing on her tiptoes, she gently touched his corners with her lips, felt his youthful stubble, and the smell and taste of nicotine and sweat. SonTeri pulled away, blushing deeply. And again she glanced at the car. The cigarette was still in her fingers. 'Is this a relationship? I can say that I even liked it. Right?' She awkwardly licked her lips. "Salty," she just said it straight out.

Aerion's expression darkened — just slightly. Not anger… but something far worse: quiet, twisted satisfaction. He watched her lick her lips — studying the way she tasted him. Something possessive flared in his chest. "You liked that?"

"Huh?" She came back, coming out of her mind. Looking at his sharp face, how he frowned from the sun or was it his face. She became more embarrassed by his syllables. The cigarette almost went out. "Um…" She hesitated. Rubbing the ground with the toe of her shoe. "Yeah… yeah, you're warm," girl quietly admitted. With strange words. Looking up, she put the cigarette back in his teeth, watching how his plump lips wrapped around the cigarette. Girl tapped her finger on it to remove the accumulated ash, because his hands were busy. Without taking her black eyes off his dead‑but wild‑blue ones through the lenses of her glasses.

Aerion let her put the cigarette back — his lips parting obediently around it. He didn't break eye contact. Not once. The ash fell as she tapped it… and he exhaled smoke through his nose, slow and deliberate.

She couldn't take her eyes off his face. As if dissolving in his heat like sugar. Until Dad honked the horn.

The car horn sounded, and it snapped Aerion out of the moment. He let out an exhale — still watching her through half‑lidded eyes. "Yer folks," he said quietly — a reminder that her parents were still nearby… and not blind.

Dad nodded slightly to Aerion, out of neighborly politeness, while Mom waved. Girl looked at them awkwardly, blushing.

Aerion nodded in return… but he didn't take his eyes off her. Dad looked confused. Mom was just happy she was interacting with people. They seemed unaware of how the moment just changed… how close she and Aerion just were. SonTeri was still blushing. Still tasting his smoke on her lips…

"I have to go, see you around…" She pursed her lips slightly. Aerion just watched as she walked off. The car door shut behind her. Her mom smiled sweetly at Aerion one last time before pulling out of the driveway. Aerion stood there, iron still in his other hand… cigarette burning between his lips.

She sat awkwardly in the backseat of the car, still not used to her new status. And that her parents knew this status too. The car was stuffy because of the sun, and the air conditioning couldn't cope.

The car rode unevenly over the dirt road — jostling her slightly. Her dad drove, squinting against the sun. Her mom turned to glance at her in the rearview mirror. "You okay back there?" she asked, noticing her quietness. The AC wheezed… but it was no match for Texas summer heat. Sweat started to bead on her neck.

"Yeah, I'm fine…" she answered quietly, breaking away from her thoughts about Aerion's lips.Her mom nodded — accepting her answer, but still studying her. She knew something was on her mind… probably that boy. The car rolled into town — the buildings low and dusty, a small Main Street with saloons and general stores. "First stop: clothing store," her dad declared — practical as ever.

SonTeri just frowned at the approaching city through the car window. 'The same old hole. What could she buy here? A peasant dress?' But she remained silent. She didn't say her typical caustic comments out loud. Her parents were here on vacation, so she would endure this horrible, gut‑wrenching place for the sake of having fun with her parents.

Her dad parked in front of a modest boutique — dresses in the window were indeed… very Texas. Floral prints. Cowboy boots. Nothing she would ever wear. Her mom hopped out eagerly, clearly excited to browse. "Come on, sweetheart! Let's find you something pretty!" The town felt stifling — not just from the heat… but from its small‑mindedness.

They entered a small building. She sensed something strange and, out of muscle memory, turned back to the street, but she saw nothing. The boutique was old, the trees were dry, the dresses seemed dusty, and it smelled of sour milk. Her parents walked the aisles while she examined the fabrics. It looked vintage, she had to admit.

A shopkeeper eyed her from behind the counter — an old woman with a wrinkled face. Her mom picked up a flowery sundress and held it up to her questioningly.

She just shook her head, and the parents moved on, talking among themselves and discussing something. Maybe they were also trying to get a feel for Texas life, and not just force their daughter into it. Tired after a half‑hour walk, she sat down on the couch by the hat shelf. Girl felt eyes on her all the time, just like back then… in her house, when she was alone. But maybe now she thought this was just her aggravation?

The shop was too quiet — the kind of silence that made her skin prickle. Every rustle of fabric, every creak of the floorboards… felt like someone watching. But when she glanced around? Just her parents browsing. The old shopkeeper sorting hats. Nothing sinister. Still… that feeling lingered. That paranoia from before Aerion came into her life.

She sat, playing with the toe of her shoe on the dry wooden floor. The state's stuffiness mingled with the smell of dust. Until she felt the sofa next to her sag from the weight.

The sofa sagged and some young guy sat down next to her. She awkwardly moved away a couple of millimeters, continuing to play with the toe of her shoe out of awkwardness.

The guy leaned slightly toward her — subtle, but intentional. He wasn't looking at dresses. Not shopping. Just… sitting next to her. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes? Sharp. Observing.

The guy cleared his throat — deliberate, like he was about to speak. He turned his head toward her slowly… revealing a face that wasn't hostile. Just neutral. Assessing. "You new around here?" he asked casually — like strangers do in small towns.

Girl awkwardly turned her face towards the stranger sitting next to her. "Um… yeah," she simply answered, neutral as always.

The guy nodded — not surprised by her short answer. He studied her a second longer… then offered a small, polite smile. "I'm Elias," he introduced himself. No handshake. Just the name. His voice was calm — no aggression. But something about him felt… intentional. Like he was here for a reason.

She frowned a little, tilting her head. Looking at the guy's face. Big nose, brown eyes. "Cute name," girl said in a simple tone.

Elias's smile tightened — just slightly. A flicker of something calculated. He leaned back, hands in his pockets… still watching her like a task was being completed. "Thanks," he said evenly — no warmth, no offense.

SonTeri went back to examining the patterns on the floor, playing with the heel of her shoe. Her parents were gone. The heat had made her hair stick to her neck, and her glasses were almost steamed up.

Elias glanced toward the shop door — checking for her parents. They were still browsing, oblivious. Out of earshot. A calculated moment. "You always this quiet?" he asked — not mean, but probing.

"No," she said, honestly but detachedly. Now looking at the ceiling. The patterns on the ceiling were different. 'Art.'

Elias blinked — her detachment threw him off slightly. She was staring at the ceiling like he was background noise. It was weird. A beat of silence. Then, on impulse — or maybe something else — he leaned closer.

Guy moved — closing the small distance between them. He tilted his head, studying her profile as she stared at the ceiling. Then… he did something bold. Something calculated. "You're pretty," he said suddenly — voice low, smooth.

She slowly turned her head towards him. Close. Very close. Girl pursed her lips slightly. Slowly moving away, as if if she did it slowly he wouldn't notice. "Thank you?" she said it only out of politeness. Thinking it was weird that some guy was sitting here so interested. 'Although… she was new, the town was small… people were curious. The town was creepy and strange.'

Elias noticed the slow retreat — the polite "thank you" with zero interest behind it. "You're not from around here, huh?" he pressed.

"No…" she answered awkwardly. SonTeri glanced around the boutique in search of her parents; they were somewhere near the shelf with strange souvenirs. "What do you… want?" girl asked seriously. He had said his name, but didn't ask hers.

Elias hesitated — caught off guard by her direct question. "Just talkin'," he said with a shrug — too casual. A lie. "Want to hang out, some little exotic." His eyes darted toward the souvenirs shelf… spotting her parents briefly before looking back at her.

"Hang… out?" She wrinkled her little nose slightly, so much so that her glasses almost slipped off.

Elias nodded — too eager, like he was pushing a script. "Yeah. Get some beer or somethin'. Show you around town." A harmless offer… on the surface. But his gaze was assessing.

SonTeri just frowned, irritated by his dark jeans. "I don't like the town," she said, turning slightly, looking at the old hats, not out of interest, just like that.

Elias leaned in slightly — testing boundaries. Without warning, he reached out… and tucked a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. A bold move.

She froze slightly and pulled away from the guy. Her frown deepened, as if from anger. "You can't touch strangers like that, haven't they taught you?" Girl pushed his hand away, but not abruptly, as if gently. "I… I think it's time." SonTeri got up and left, dodging in a skirt and the click of her little kitten heels.

Elias stiffened — hand hovering in the air after she pushed it away. Her rejection was clear. No confusion. The shopkeeper eyed her as she hurried toward her parents.

Her mom turned — seeing her approach with a slightly flustered expression. "Honey? Everything okay?" She studied her face, sensing tension. Elias lingered by the couch… but didn't follow. Her dad held up a ridiculous cowboy hat — trying to lighten the mood.

"I want a hat like that," SonTeri said simply, moving on to another conversation. "I think the cowboy style is aesthetically pleasing." She shifted slightly on her heels.

Her mom blinked — surprised by her sudden interest in cowboy fashion. But she was delighted. Anything to bond with Texas. "Oh! That one?" She pointed to a sleek, black felt hat with silver trim — much more stylish than the tacky ones. Her dad grunted approval. At least it wasn't some frilly dress.

"No, this one." She pointed at a tattered hat with turquoise fabric trim. It looked like some old farmer just forgot his old hat there. The parents exchanged a slight glance. As always, every trip to the clothing store. "He looks lonely."Her mom picked up the tattered hat — turning it over in her hands. It was clearly been there for years. Dusty, frayed… but weirdly charming in a rustic way. "This one?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at her dad. He shrugged. Not his style… but if she liked it? Sure.

She took it from her mother's hands, sniffing it. It smelled of strange alcohol. 'Moonshine?' For some reason, a familiar smell. "At least there was something really cool here."

—

She and her parents spent the rest of the day quietly, but comfortably quiet. They ate, took a walk. Even if the city was creepy, even if the people were strange. Even if she felt like she was being watched. Even if the city was chilling. It was fun. Now it was clear that the child had missed her parents for three weeks. They pulled up to their house. The sun had set outside, the sky was turning blue. And the stuffiness of the air became more and more voluminous, as if physically tangible.

The car rolled up the dirt road — home at last. The house sat quiet under the darkening sky, porch light flickering on automatically. A peaceful evening. The kind that made her realize… she had missed this. Her parents' presence. Their routines. Her dad unloaded bags from the trunk — no rush, no stress. Just family time.

She was helping her parents unload their groceries. Then she saw a small light and a shadow on a lawn chair by the neighbors' gate. It waved, as if calling. "May I go see Aerion?" Girl turned her head to face her parents.

Her dad paused — groceries in hand. He followed her gaze to the shadowy figure. Aerion, sitting on a lawn chair like he owned the place. Her mom gave a small, polite smile… but said nothing. It was up to her. Aerion lifted his chin slightly — a silent "Come here."

The parents entered the house. She walked across the road to the Targaryen house in the twilight of the evening. The lights were on, his family was home. He himself was sitting a little way from the house by the gate on a garden chair, sprawled almost lying down, the blue light of the moon playing on his face, the small flame of a cigarette making his Adam's apple bob. He was all dusty and smelled of grass, from work. Sat as if he was waiting for someone.

Aerion exhaled smoke — watching her approach with that quiet, intense stare of his. He didn't smile. Didn't stand up. Just… waited.

She approached, her tiny heels clicking on the stones. The strange patterns on her skirt seemed to come to life in the dark. Her tattered, smelly hat perched on top of her head, making her look like the town madwoman. "Hey… again."

"Hey," he rasped — voice gravelly from smoking. He flicked ash to the ground before patting his thigh. An invitation to sit on his lap in that sprawled‑out position of his.

She stopped awkwardly. Her cheeks turned crimson under the moonlight. She just sat down next to him on the grass; it was dry and hot from the sun, even if it was evening.

Aerion side‑eyed her — annoyed that she didn't sit on his lap. But he said nothing. Just took another drag, exhaling smoke upward. The grass was dry and warm… but the night air was cooling slightly. For a long moment, silence. Then —

"Why did you call?" she asked him in a soft voice.

Aerion crushed the cigarette under his boot — sudden, sharp movement. He turned fully toward her, face unreadable in the dark. "Wanted to see you," he muttered. Not sweet. Not gentle. Just stating a fact. Then he reached out… and flicked her hat with one finger — the tattered thing nearly falling off her head from the force of it.

The flick made her hat tilt dangerously — she caught it just in time. Aerion's expression was hard to read. Not angry… but not soft either. He stared at the hat like it offended him. Then his eyes dragged back to her face. "Where'd you get that?" he asked, voice flat — judging the ragged accessory.

"In some weird boutique that smells like sour milk." She answered, as if she didn't care about anything except his face and eyes.

Aerion studied her — the way her eyes stayed locked on him, ignoring everything else. "In the boutique? Was it boring? Or… did something happen?" He spoke in a boyish voice.

SonTeri tilted her head, looking at him. 'Should I tell you about that weird guy?' "Huh?"

Aerion leaned closer — suddenly more focused. "That guy," he said, voice dropping lower. "The one in the boutique."

She raised her eyebrows, her hat almost slipped off. Aerion looked at her for a long time, as if testing her. "Guy…" 'How does he know? Or did he just guess?' "There was one…" she started awkwardly, smoothing her skirt, feeling the warm wind on her hips.

Aerion's jaw tightened slightly — confirming his suspicion. "What'd he do?" Aerion asked, tone deceptively calm. But there was a dangerous edge underneath.

"Nothing special," she just shrugged, enjoying the fresh air.

Aerion narrowed his eyes — unconvinced. Nothing special? A beat of silence. Then, without warning — "He touched you."

"Hm?" SonTeri looked away from some grass. She was distracted by watching him take out a new cigarette. "Well… he tried? Strange boy…" She pulled grass.

Aerion lit the cigarette with sharp, jerky movements. Smoke poured from his nostrils as he exhaled. "What did he do?" he repeated, louder this time. Demanding answers now. He wanted honesty… and it better match the report.

She twirled a blade of grass in her fingers, looking at it like it was really interesting. "Sat down… asked… introduced himself… came closer… touched my hair…" She said it like a report, like it meant nothing to her. "Just some guy."

Aerion took a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs. He processed her words… confirmed they matched the story. Good. She hadn't lied. Hadn't downplayed it.

Aerion's gaze trailed over her — the delicate heels, the skirt, the whole fragile aesthetic. It annoyed him. Not because it was ugly… but because it made her look weak. Soft. He wanted a girlfriend who wasn't so… easily touched by strangers. A possessive irritation gnawed at him.

Aerion crushed the cigarette out on the armrest of his chair — aggressive. Then, without warning, he reached over and grabbed her chin. "You shouldn't let random guys touch you," he said, voice low but firm. A scolding. His thumb brushed her cheekbone — almost tender… if it weren't for the grip on her jaw.

"I… don't let," she defended herself, but quietly, softly. Like a kitten, clinging to his hand, it was hot, though ashen and dusty.

Aerion held her chin a second longer — studying her face. He saw the submission. The quiet defense. It pissed him off that she didn't push Elias away harder. Then, abruptly… he released her and leaned back. "Good," he muttered — not quite satisfied, but not yelling either.

Aerion stared at the dark horizon, jaw working. The night was quiet. Crickets hummed. Somewhere, a dog barked. He didn't say anything else about Elias… but the tension wasn't gone. Instead, he seemed to be deciding something — silently calculating.

She blew on the tinsel in her palm. Then she looked at Aerion. "I have to go home," girl said, the hat casting shadows on her face. SonTeri could smell the cigarettes, but after all this weeks, she had gotten used to it.

Aerion glanced at her — her hat shadowing her face, the cigarette smell clinging to both of them. He didn't argue. Didn't try to stop her. "Yeah," he said simply, voice rough. Then he stood… not walking with her, but letting her leave.

SonTeri hesitated, shifting from heel to heel. "Um…" She wanted to do something, but she physically couldn't. She was embarrassed. "See you…" Girl lightly patted his bicep, more like stroked it, like a rabid dog or a wild leopard. Not a kiss — no, she was too embarrassed, and she didn't know how. She cleared her throat one last time. And walked into her house, fiddling with the cross around her neck.

Aerion watched her awkward pat on his arm — the way she fumbled, too shy for a kiss. It was… weird. It was a shame. It irritated him. 'Coward. Virgin', he muttered to himself. But for some reason, it also excited him, which irritated him even more. He clamped the cigarette between his teeth, frowning.

The girl trudged along the path home, stepping on the gravel in the dark. Aerion stood there for a long moment, the cigarette still dangling from his lips. He was pissed. Confused. Turned on? He didn't know what to do with that… soft, awkward girl who couldn't even kiss him goodnight. Finally, he spit out the cigarette and walked back inside.

Inside, the house was dark and quiet. Aerion's family were asleep. He kicked off his boots by the door, not bothering to turn on lights. Aerion headed straight for his room — door clicking shut behind him. He flopped onto the bed… staring at the ceiling. The image of her — the hat, that stupid skirt — burned in his mind.

His rough hands unbuckled his belt. He was irritated… almost, but he needed to jerk off. Aerion yanked his jeans down — rough, impatient. He was pissed. Frustrated. Hard as hell. No girl to kiss. No release from the tension she had left him with. Hands moved fast — calloused fingers wrapping around himself with zero finesse, just raw need.

Aerion groaned under his breath — low, guttural. His mind flashed to her: the way her skirt rode up when she sat, how her lips looked in the moonlight. It wasn't romantic. It was angry. Desperate. Hip thrusts were sharp against his fist… all pent‑up aggression and frustration from tonight. Aerion's breathing hitched — his movements rough, uneven. He didn't last long. Too wired. Too pissed off. A few sharp grunts… then he was coming hard — fingers clenched tight, back arching off the mattress. Afterward? Just silence. The anger was still there… but at least the pressure was gone.

The room was still afterward — just the sound of his breathing slowing. Aerion lay there, staring at the ceiling again. The anger hadn't dissipated… but it was dulled. He wiped his hand on the sheets, not even caring about mess or anything else. Just empty now. Tired. Still thinking about her — annoyed that she didn't kiss him goodnight like a proper girlfriend would. "Whore," he whispered.

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