#sonteri

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 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.'

━─━────༺༻────━─━

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over Dunk's sleeping face. His breathing was deep and even as he snored softly beside her. One of his arms was still draped loosely over her side, heavy with sleep but not crushing. The other hand rested on a pillow near his head. For all the tension from last night… right now it felt safe. Like nothing bad could ever reach either of them here in this little nest of blankets.

When the Texas sun hit the boy's face, he opened his blue eyes. For a second, he was almost ready to jump up and start mechanically getting dressed like he was back at the base. But when he saw her, he relaxed a little. He looked into her black eyes, remembering yesterday. His friend had been crying on his shoulder, and she seemed to be really sick. He hadn't asked yesterday, but today he would try to figure it out. He wanted to help. He wanted to know — to know if she was okay. He lifted his goofy smile slightly to encourage her. Mechanically, he squeezed his hand on her side. And his other hand was at her head, tugging at her hair near her face. He was worried… worried about her.

Dunk's smile was soft, lopsided — the kind of sleepy morning grin that only came when you were genuinely happy to see someone. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from her face with surprising gentleness for such big hands. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep but warm. He studied her face carefully — checking for any lingering sadness or tension from last night. The way he looked at her was different now… more attentive, more protective than before. Like he was silently promising himself to figure out whatever was wrong and fix it if he could.

SonTeri pursed her lips. Her eyes were still a little red. She glanced at the window in the distance of the room before speaking hoarsely. “Did you sleep well?”

Dunk's smile faded slightly as he noticed the hoarseness in her voice and the redness around her eyes. His chest tightened with concern, but he kept his tone light — not wanting to push too hard. “Yeah,” he said softly, “Slept real good. Your floor ain't half bad.” He tried to joke a little, nudging her gently with his elbow before sitting up slowly. But then he paused — really looking at her again — and asked quietly: “…You okay?”

Girl frowned, not knowing whether to answer the truth or not. “Dunk, we're alone in the house, aren't we?” she asked quietly.

Dunk sat up a little straighter, his brows furrowing slightly at her question. He glanced toward the hallway — as if checking to make sure no one was lurking around. “Yeah,” he confirmed, “Your parents are gone for the two weeks, right? And I'm the only other person here.” He studied her carefully — her hesitation making him more uneasy by the second. 'Something was clearly bothering her… and it wasn't just last night's crying.'

SonTeri also straightened up, getting up from the floor, as if avoiding answering his question. “I'll go to the bathroom first.”

Dunk watched her get up, his stomach twisting a little as he realized she was dodging the question. He didn't push, though — just nodded and scooted over to give her space. “Alright,” he said, trying not to sound too worried. As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut behind her, Dunk flopped back onto the pillows with a quiet sigh. His hands clenched slightly at his sides — frustration mixing with helplessness. 'Something was wrong… but how do you even ask your best friend if she's okay when they clearly don't want to talk about it?'

Dunk waited patiently, listening to the muffled sound of water running in the bathroom. He got up after a minute or two — stretching his arms above his head — and padded quietly out of her room toward the kitchen. The house was eerily quiet without anyone else around. No clinking dishes, no radio playing… just him and her. He started making coffee automatically — the way he always did at base when morning rolled around. Maybe caffeine would help loosen tongues.

Dunk filled the kettle with water, setting it on the stove. While he waited for it to boil, he leaned against the counter and stared out at her backyard — the same one they used to play in as kids. The quiet was almost too loud. He chewed his lip slightly, turning over yesterday's events in his mind — her crying, her clinging to him like a lifeline… something was seriously wrong. He pulled two mugs from the cabinet — already deciding that even if she didn't talk right now, at least coffee might help.

Girl came down the stairs, still in her baggy pajamas with a wet face. “It smells like coffee. Black?” She walked into the kitchen where a huge guy was moving carefully in the small kitchenette.

Dunk turned at the sound of her footsteps, his tall frame looking comically oversized in the cozy kitchen. The counter pressed against his hips as he moved — clearly not used to cooking spaces this small. “Yeah,” he said with a small smile, “Black. How you like it.” He grabbed a third mug just in case — some habits died hard — and poured hot water over freshly ground coffee beans. His movements were careful but efficient, military‑trained precision making even something simple look precise.

“Thanks.” SonTeri went to the fridge. “Sit, I'll make us some eggs.” She acted casual, sweet, like she always did with Dunk. But as if ignoring what had happened yesterday. Dunk noticed that she glanced out the window above the sink from time to time.

Dunk nodded and sat at the tiny kitchen table, watching her move around. The casual act was obvious to him — she was trying too hard to seem normal. He didn't call it out, though… not yet. He kept his eyes on her as he sipped his black coffee, noticing every time her gaze flicked toward the window. It made something uneasy curl in his stomach. The sizzle of eggs hitting the pan filled the silence between them — a comforting sound despite everything else being tense.

Dunk watched as she plated the eggs — her movements efficient, practiced. The kitchen smelled like coffee and breakfast now, warm and homey despite the tension in the air. He got up to grab his plate when she set it down, his fingers brushing against hers for a split second. It was an accident… but it made him pause just briefly before pulling away. “Thanks,” he said softly, “Smells good.” He sat back down and started eating quietly — not pushing conversation yet. Just… observing.

SonTeri gave him a small smile. “Thanks for taking the time to visit me… I know, I called out of the blue yesterday.” She ate, giggling slightly. Around Duncan, she felt like herself again. To the point of being strangely paranoid.

Dunk's face softened at her smile — that little giggle of hers always did something to him. It made his chest feel lighter, like maybe things weren't as bad as he thought. “Nah,” he said between bites, “I didn't mind. Was due for leave anyway.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but the truth was — he would have dropped everything if she had called him. Watching her laugh — even just a tiny bit — made something warm spread through him. He liked seeing her act normal again… even if that paranoia lingered in the back of her eyes whenever they darted to the window.

Dunk finished his eggs and pushed the plate aside, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He leaned back in the chair, studying her — really looking at her now. “You seem better,” he said carefully — not wanting to ruin the moment but also unable to ignore that something was clearly off yesterday. He reached for his coffee again, taking a slow sip as he waited for her reaction. 'Did this mean she was okay? Or was it just… surface‑level okay?'

SonTeri stopped her fork, slowly picking up her mug and taking a sip of bitter coffee. “Better than yesterday?” 'There was no point in denying yesterday. And probably deep down I wanted to tell at least someone about… this.' She raised her eyes, meeting his storm clouds of blue.

Dunk held her gaze, his storm‑blue eyes serious — no teasing, no joking around now. Just pure focus. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “Better than yesterday.” A beat of silence passed between them. Then he exhaled and set his mug down. “…You wanna talk about it?” His voice was gentle — not pushing, just… offering. 'Because if something was scaring her or hurting her? He wanted to know.'

“I… I want to talk about it, I really do. It's been eating at me, Dunk. But… but I'm afraid that we…” She glanced briefly at the door of the house, behind Dunk. “But I'm afraid that we'll be heard.”

Dunk's expression darkened instantly at her glance toward the door. His jaw tightened, and for a second — just a second — his military training kicked in, his body tensing like he was ready to defend her from something right this second. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “Who? Who do you think is listening?” His tone wasn't angry… it was protective. Dead serious.

“I don't know,” she whispered, as if in despair. “Probably no one… I don't know.” SonTeri straightened her hair, smoothing her temples, squeezing the mug with her other hand. “Maybe I made them up?”

Dunk's eyes narrowed slightly — not because he thought she was lying, but because the uncertainty in her voice scared him. He hated seeing her like this — fidgeting, squeezing the mug too tight. “SonTeri,” he murmured, his whisper even softer now, “Tell me what's been happening.” He didn't dismiss it as her imagination. Didn't say «it's probably nothing.» 'If something had her this rattled? It was serious to him.'

“I… I keep thinking I hear something… like rustling outside the window…” SonTeri tried to look only at Dunk's face, as if looking away from his would make her see someone else in the house. “And… maybe it's in my head? You can't hear them… like I'm going crazy alone in this house… in this Texas…”

Dunk's gaze hardened — not at her, but at the threat he couldn't even see. The thought of someone lurking around her house — maybe watching, maybe listening — made his blood run cold. “Hey,” he said firmly, “You ain't crazy.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his much larger one — a grounding touch. His voice dropped lower. “…When did this start?”

Girl looked down at the table. “When Aerion left…” she said quietly. “About two or three days.” She looked at him again.

Dunk's stomach dropped. The second she mentioned Aerion leaving, something clicked for him. His grip on her hand tightened slightly — not in anger at her, but at the situation. “…Has anything else happened? Anything weird?” He scanned her face, trying to piece together if this was just paranoia… or if there was actually a reason she was hearing things.

“No, not really…” She drank coffee. The caffeine made her heart beat faster. “No… just a strange feeling… just inside me.” SonTeri hugged herself lightly, as if from the cold. Boy frowned; sweat was already pouring off him. The temperature outside in Texas was higher than the Statue of Liberty.

Dunk frowned deeper, noticing how she was hugging herself despite the scorching Texas heat. It wasn't just a cold — it was that sick, uneasy feeling crawling under her skin. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Okay,” he said slowly, “You ain't alone anymore. I'm here.” A pause. “…Want me to check around? The house? Outside?”

“Yes… yes, I do.” She pursed her lips. “Please...”

Boy nodded firmly — no hesitation. He stood up, chair scraping against the floor. “Stay here,” he instructed gently but seriously before heading to the hallway. He grabbed a baseball bat leaning by the door — not a weapon, just something solid in his hands. He moved quietly through each room first: checking closets, under beds… making sure no one was hiding inside. Then he stepped outside onto the porch — the Texas sun blazing down on him instantly.

Dunk stepped outside, squinting against the bright sunlight. The yard was quiet — too quiet. No birds chirping, no wind… just heat shimmering off the pavement. He walked around the perimeter of the house first — checking windows, locked, peering into bushes for any movement. His grip on the bat tightened as he circled toward her bedroom window — the one she had said she heard rustling near. Nothing seemed disturbed… but that didn't mean anything.

Dunk finished his perimeter check, finding no footprints, no disturbed dirt — nothing out of place. He even checked the shed in the backyard and peered under the porch. By the time he came back inside, sweat was dripping down his neck. The house was still as silent as when he had left it. “Didn't find anything,” he admitted quietly to her, “But that don't mean nothin' was here.” He wiped his face with a towel from her kitchen before sitting back down across from her.

“That's good, thank you, Dunk. That really calmed me down…” She felt a chill down her spine.

Dunk studied her — the way her shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension in her jaw easing. 'He was glad he could help, even if it was just a simple check. But that chill running down her spine? That worried him. The house was hot as hell — no logical reason for her to feel cold.' “You still feelin' off?” he asked softly, reaching out to brush his thumb over the back of her hand — an instinctive comfort gesture from when they were kids and one of them got scared.

“Better than it was… it's just… Texas… it's like it's sucking all the juices out. I think it's just an adjustment period. When I go to school, it might be better…” She slightly raised the corners of her lips, trying to convince either herself or him.

Dunk forced a small smile back at her — because he wanted to believe that too. Wanted school, new friends, normalcy to fix this. “Yeah,” he said, “School'll be good. You'll meet people.” But even as he said it, his gut twisted — because Texas wasn't just heat and dust. It was a whole different world from Minnesota… lonely in its own way. He leaned forward again. “I… I have to get back to base… My CO already texted me this morning.” He didn't want to go. Not when she was clearly still uneasy here — but he knew better than to abandon his post either. “…How long 'til school starts?” he asked, hoping maybe it was soon enough that she wouldn't be alone for too long first.

“A month and a half,” she answered. “Everything is fine, go… I'll call my parents at the base later… I'll ask how they are there.” SonTeri was trying to return to a normal speech tempo. “I'll clean up the house after last night's sleepover… I'll be fine, really.”

Dunk nodded, but he didn't look fully convinced. Still, he knew pushing her to say more wouldn't help. “Okay,” he sighed. He stood and grabbed his duffel bag from the living room — already packed since last night. The reality of leaving settled over him like a weight. Before heading out the door, though… he hesitated. Then turned back and pulled her into a tight hug — sudden but warm.

The hug was strong — Dunk's arms wrapping around her in a protective, almost desperate squeeze. Like he was trying to shield her from everything with just this one embrace. He rested his chin on top of her head for a second, breathing in the scent of her shampoo — something familiar that reminded him of home. Then reluctantly pulled away. “Call me,” he said firmly, “If anything… weird happens. Or if you just wanna talk.”

“Of course.” She smiled, pursing her lips. “Good luck and… thank you… We don't talk often, but… but you are dear to me.”

Dunk's throat tightened at her words — dear to you. It meant more than he could say. The way his face softened was instant, almost childlike in its sincerity. “Yeah… you too,” he mumbled, suddenly shy for a big guy. He lingered by the door for half a second longer — then forced himself to turn and step outside. The Texas sun hit him hard again as he walked toward his car parked on the street.

SonTeri looked at him from the door, waving her hand.

Dunk glanced back one last time — seeing her in the doorway, waving. His heart did that stupid little flip it always did when he saw her. He lifted his hand too, giving a slow wave back — grinning despite himself. Then he got into his car and started the engine. The drive away was quiet. The base wasn't far… but every mile felt like distance from her, and suddenly Texas felt even bigger than before.

・❥・❥・❥・

After Dunk left, she came to her senses a little. 'Dunk hadn't found anything, so it was all in her head? What had contributed to this?' She cleaned the kitchen, put away the pillows and blankets. And having calmed down a little, she sat down on the sofa in the living room.

The house was quiet again — too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed in on her, making her skin prickle even as she sat safely on the couch. She tried to tell herself it was nothing. But then — the creak of a floorboard upstairs made her freeze. A sound too loud for the empty house's settling. A shadow passed by the hallway window — just for a second — before vanishing.

SonTeri noticed this and got up from the sofa. After hesitating, she went to the window above the sink in the kitchen, peering carefully.

Her heart pounded as she crept to the kitchen window — her breath shallow, her body tense. The yard was bathed in the harsh Texas sunlight… but something felt off. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. Just trees swaying slightly in a non‑existent breeze. But then — a flicker of movement near the tree line. 'A figure? Or just a deer?' SonTeri squinted, straining to see better… and for half a second, she swore there was someone standing there — watching.

She quickly moved away from the window, sitting down on the floor and clutching her pajama pants. Her hands were shaking. 'But maybe it was the caffeine? Or maybe it was her imagination?' Loneliness weighed on her, even if Dunk had left hours ago.

The silence of the house pressed down on her harder now — every little sound amplified. The hum of the fridge, a distant car passing by outside… all of it made her nerves jump. She hugged her knees tighter, trying to rationalize it. 'Caffeine. Loneliness. Texas being weird. But that figure — or shadow — at the window? That wasn't imagination.'

SonTeri crawled out of the kitchen to the hallway. 'Maybe I should go visit the Targaryens? Even if Aerion is not here, I can visit Mister Maekar, Egg, or Daeron. Then I won't be alone. Then this «feeling» of paranoia will pass.' She stood up, putting on her shoes. And she ran out of the huge house in baggy pajamas, walking quickly to the neighbors' house. Staring intently into the distance into the forest, as if expecting an attack. Her heart pounded.

The Targaryen ranch was just across the street — close enough that she had walked there countless times. The path felt longer today, though, her pajama pants flapping against her legs as she hurried. She didn't look back at the house — not even once. The trees on the edge of their property loomed darkly, and for a second… something moved in them again. A cold sweat broke out on her neck despite the Texas heat as she neared Maekar's porch.

Their truck wasn't there at the door, just toys on the lawn. She knocked. No answer. She tried the handle. It was locked. She frowned and walked weakly to the window and peered in. Through the crack in the curtains, all she could see was the empty house. 'They must have left somewhere this morning while she and Dunk were sleeping.' Girl stepped away from the window, staring tensely into the distance at her house, then at the woods. 'God. I can't go back to myself, but out here in the open street, out here in the open, I feel like meat on a lion's plate.' She lurched down the stairs, nearly falling, and hid behind the side of the porch, next to the spigot where the hose came out. She covered her ears as if the noises were stuck in her ears and pressing on her brain.

The porch spigot dug into her side as she pressed against it, hiding like a child playing tag. The street was too quiet — no cars, no neighbors outside, nothing. She kept her ears covered, but that didn't block out the paranoia. Every rustle of leaves sounded like footsteps. Every bird call felt deliberate — like a signal.

SonTeri closed her eyes. Her heart pounded. 'I made them up. I made them up. I made them up. Dunk didn't find anything.' She was so lost in herself from a strange panic. Her ears felt cottony and clogged, like underwater. She didn't even hear the sound of the engine, that dragon‑like roar, that red sports car. She didn't hear the slow footsteps approaching, like a creeping predator.

The footsteps stopped right beside her — so close that the shadow of whoever it was fell over her curled‑up form. The air shifted, thick with tension. Then — a hand landed on her shoulder. Not rough, not aggressive… but firm. A grip that didn't let go. A deep voice cut through the cottony haze in her ears: “SonTeri.” It was him. Aerion Targaryen — standing over her like a storm given human form. “Hiding from a maniac?” he said mockingly. Aerion crouched down in front of her, his sharp features shadowed by the brim of his hat. His light eyes — always too calculating — scanned her face: the fear, the sweat on her brow, how she was still covering her ears. For a second… something flickered in his expression. Not quite pleasure. Not quite interest either. Then he reached out and pried one of her hands off her ear — not gently but not violently either. “Look at me.” His voice was low now… as if he had his own artist's creation in front of him.

SonTeri finally felt someone's rough hands. She opened her eyes, squinting from the bright light, and saw sharp features and deathly blue eyes. “Aerion…” girl whispered, as if she had seen Jesus himself.

Aerion's lips curled — not quite a sneer. “Yeah,” he murmured, “Me.” He didn't let go of her hand yet — just studied her for another long second before his other hand lifted to brush a strand of hair from her damp forehead.

SonTeri only hesitated for a couple of seconds and automatically, like a first instinct, she laid her head on his chest, touching his worn T‑shirt with her head. She felt like she was sweating, finally sweating from the heat. Like a cold under her skin, a chill down her spine gone. “Aerion…” she said in an almost breaking voice. “Where have you been…”

Aerion stiffened for half a second — surprised by the sudden contact. She never initiated touches like this. But then… he relaxed. He smirked as if that was how it should be. As if he had tamed a wild cat. Slowly, his arms came up around her, wrapping in a firm embrace — not quite gentle, but not crushing either. His chest was warm under her cheek despite the Texas heat; the scent of leather and something smoky clung to him. “Work,” he answered simply — no details given. Just an excuse wrapped in one word.

Aerion exhaled — something between a sigh and quiet satisfaction. His fingers threaded through her hair, the calloused pads of his fingertips catching slightly on the strands. For a long moment, he just held her there. The silence wasn't awkward… it was possessive. Like he was claiming this reunion as his right after being gone. Then, without warning, he pressed his lips to the top of her head — a brief kiss that felt more like marking territory than affection. “You're shakin',” he muttered against her hair — observant as always. Not asking why yet… just stating it.

Young man pulled back just enough to tilt her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. His blue eyes were piercing — sharp as ice and twice as cold. He didn't ask if she was okay. Didn't say anything comforting. Instead, he studied the fear still lingering in her expression — like a scientist examining an interesting specimen. “Who scared ya?” he finally asked — not accusingly, but just making sure. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone once — almost a caress — but it lacked real warmth.

SonTeri hesitated a little. Looking at Aerion with her almost wet eyes, as if if she looked away he would leave again. “You will think I have gone crazy…” she answered quietly.

Aerion clicked his tongue softly, something flickering in his sharp eyes — almost like amusement… or maybe satisfaction. “Try me,” he drawled, still holding her in a loose grip. His thumb brushed over her cheek again. He lifted one brow, gesturing. “Go on.”

Her hands were still on the ground. She felt hot in pajamas, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. No more frost. Just fire. “I… I think I saw something outside the window… someone,” she began quietly. “…I think… I'm seeing different things… And hear…”

Aerion tilted his head slightly. His eyes were still locked on her face, searching… but there was something like fascination in his expression now — as if he was trying to decide somethings. But his response was casual, dismissive. “You're imaginin’ things,” he said. “It's Texas heat that's gettin' to ya.”

“But... I was cold all the time… rustlings and lights in the forest at night…” SonTeri mumbled, as if trying to dispute her words and feelings. His finger twitched from her movements with her lips when she spoke.

Aerion's finger paused where it rested against her cheek. The slight twitch wasn't anger — it was something else. He listened, his gaze lighting a fraction as she described the rustlings, the lights… things that sounded interesting… to him? “Hm.” That was all he said at first — a non‑answer. But then he smirked: “You been sleepin’ enough?” He spoke as if to a child.

“W‑what?” She paused slightly in her paranoia ramblings. 'Aerion seems… not to believe me? Or is he right? Or am I making this all up? I really have been drinking a lot of coffee lately.' She was still sitting on the ground by his porch.

Aerion's smirk deepened — like he was enjoying the confusion on her face. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, teasing drawl. “You heard me,” he said, “Coffee? No sleep? That’ll make anyone see shadows.” 'It sounded reasonable… and for a second, she almost believed him. Almost thought maybe it was just exhaustion and caffeine messing with her head. But then why did that explanation feel… too easy?'

“But I saw… I saw lights in the night… in the forest… there were a lot of them.” She was trying to get through. 'Or… or was it a dream?' She wasn't sure anymore. She looked at his narrowed eyes.

Aerion's expression didn't waver. If anything, his smirk grew — cold and knowing. “Lights?” He repeated slowly, like the word was a joke. “Probably just fireflies.”

Aerion merely lifted her from the ground, shaking the grass off her pajama pants, like a crazy grandmother who had been found in another neighborhood, unconscious and with crazy thoughts. She just stood there on weak legs, processing his words… 'Is he right? Did I really make this all up? From loneliness and isolation…' He looked her over and saw the muddy trail behind her where she had sat on the ground.

Aerion wrinkled his nose slightly at the dirt on her pajamas — like this was beneath him, cleaning up some hysterical girl who had wandered into his yard. But he didn't scold her. Instead, without asking, he grabbed her wrist and started leading her toward his house — not hers. The front door swung open easily; it was never locked for him. “Gonna get ya cleaned up,” he muttered, “Then food. Ya look like hell.” It wasn't kindness… it was control.

She just walked. On weak legs. Still in her head, digesting it all. All these things for these three days. He dragged her along like a rag doll.

Aerion didn't slow down for her shaky steps. He pulled her through the entryway of his house — spacious, minimalist, with a distinct lack of warmth. Everything was clean and hard‑edged: leather furniture, cowboy boots lined up by the door. He led her straight to the bathroom — small but pristine — and nudged her toward the sink. “Wash your face,” he ordered, “You're sweaty as hell.”

SonTeri started washing her face. Looking in the mirror, she saw that she was sweating, 'she felt stuffy as hell… remembering how cold she had been, the frost inside her skin like scratching nails, all these days… accompanied by rustling sounds and strange feelings of glances behind her back. But… Aerion said she had made it all up.'

Aerion came back with his shorts in his hands.

Boy tossed the shorts at her. The fabric was soft from wear, smelling faintly of laundry detergent and that same smoky scent he carried. “Change,” he said, “Then we're eatin'.” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching as she stared at her reflection. His expression was unreadable — somewhere between enjoyment and quiet scrutiny. The contrast between how cold she had felt earlier… to this stifling Texas heat now… made her head spin.

She took his shorts and almost came to her senses. “Um… will you go out?” she said quietly.

Aerion raised an eyebrow at her question, but he didn't get offended. If anything, the faintest smirk played on his lips — like he found it amusing that she was asking for privacy. “Yeah,” he said simply. He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the hallway, pulling the bathroom door mostly closed behind him — but not all the way. A crack remained… as if he was leaving it open just enough to hear her moving around.

SonTeri took off her pajama pants, leaving them on the lid of the basket. While she stood there in someone else's bathroom in just her underwear, the cross on her neck burned as if leaving a red‑hot mark underneath. Girl put on his shorts; they hung on her pelvic bones as if they were about to fall off. She stayed in her pajama shirt, although its sleeves were also slightly dirty from the ground.

A faint noise came from outside the door — the sound of him moving around in the kitchen. Pans clinking, water running. 'He was cooking? That was… unexpected for him.'

She got out of the bathroom and walked toward the kitchen, trying not to look at the windows. This had already become a habit.

The kitchen was small but efficient — stainless steel appliances, a well‑worn cutting board. Aerion stood at the stove in just his undershirt and jeans, sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms. He was making eggs — a simple meal. Not gourmet, not fancy… just food. When he heard her shuffle in, he glanced over his shoulder briefly. His eyes flicked down to how his shorts hung on her… and something unreadable passed through his gaze before he turned back to cooking.

She awkwardly approached the table. “Um… do you need help?” she asked.

Aerion shook his head without looking at her. “Nah. Sit.” The smell of butter and salted food filled the air, making her stomach growl quietly. A plate was already set on the table for her — no asking if she wanted it or not.

Aerion slid the plate toward her — scrambled eggs, slightly crispy at the edges, and two slices of toast. He grabbed his own plate and sat across from her, not saying anything as he started eating. The silence was heavy… but not uncomfortable. Just there. Every so often, his sharp blue eyes flicked up to watch her — studying how hungry she was, or wasn't, if her hands shook when picking up the fork… little details.

SonTeri picked up her fork and, without touching the eggs, looked up at him. “Do you think I'm crazy?” she suddenly asked Aerion. And, unable to control herself, she glanced briefly at the kitchen window before turning back to Aerion.

Aerion paused mid‑bite, fork hovering. His gaze locked onto hers — cold, assessing. For a second, he didn't answer. Just chewed slowly… like he was deciding how much truth to give her. Then: “Nah,” he said finally, “Just tired.” It wasn't quite an accusation of insanity… but it wasn't comfort either. More like a diagnosis.

“But…” she started and immediately fell silent. “…you're probably... right…”

Aerion watched her deflate — her doubt, her quiet acceptance of his explanation. He didn't look smug… but there was satisfaction in the set of his jaw. He finished chewing and took a swig of water before speaking again, voice lower this time: “Eat.” A simple command. Not harsh, not gentle — just firm. Like he expected obedience now that he had decided what was wrong with her. The eggs were getting cold on her plate as the silence stretched between them.

Girl scooped up some eggs on her fork and put them in her mouth, chewing slowly. A little too salty. “Do you think my brain made it all up?”

Aerion watched her chew, his expression unchanging. When she asked the question, he swallowed his own food and leaned back slightly in his chair. “Yeah,” he said bluntly, “Your brain was workin' too hard.” He sounded so certain — like it was an indisputable fact. No room for argument.

Aerion stabbed a piece of toast with his fork, taking another bite. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. “You still virgin, darlin'?” Seeing her confusion at this strange, sudden, out‑of‑place question, he clarified. “I know that ‘Tower’ spent the night at your place. Left this morning.”

“Who?... Dunk?” She clutched her fork in confusion. 'Why did he decide to bring this up? And why virginity right away?' The cross around her neck felt like it was suffocating her.

Aerion's eyes narrowed slightly at her reaction — the way she clutched the fork, the tension in her shoulders. He definitely noticed that cross burning against her skin. “Yeah,” he said, voice dropping lower, “Dunk.” There was something weirdly… possessive? in his tone. Like he was checking a box or confirming something about her. He took another slow sip of water, watching her over the rim of his glass — waiting for an answer to his very personal question.

She frowned slightly in confusion. “How do you know he spent the night at my home and when he left?” 'Is that suspicious?'

Aerion's face didn't change — no guilt, no hesitation. Just the same cool, detached stare. “Saw his car,” he said simply, “When I drove up.” It was a logical explanation… but something about it felt off. He set his glass down and leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. “So? Did you?” His tone was casual — but there was weight behind the question.

“What… what do you mean about…” SonTeri swallowed before speaking, as if her upbringing didn't let her. “…about my... uhm... ‘virginity’? What does that have to do with it?” She looked at him, noticing his clenched jaw.

Aerion's jaw did tense — just for a split second. Like the question irritated him. Or maybe it was something else. His sharp gaze ran down her neck, searching for «traces of love». “I mean,” he said slowly, like she was being dense, “Did y'all fuck?” No euphemisms, no softness — just brutal directness. His gaze was fixed on her, searching her face for any reaction. The air in the kitchen shifted suddenly… heavier now. Charged with something unspoken.

Girl was slightly taken aback by his directness, dropping her fork onto her plate. Frowning, either because the question offended her, or from surprise. 'How can he talk about Dunk like that?' “That's a disgusting question,” she simply said quietly. “He just came to support me… I invited him to a friendly sleepover…” She lightly fiddled with the cross on her neck.

Aerion's expression darkened at her tone — the disgust in her voice. His fingers tightened around his glass. “Friendly sleepover,” he repeated, voice flat. The sarcasm was thick. He leaned back in his chair, studying the way she fiddled with that cross — like it was a shield or something sacred to her. It seemed to annoy him more than anything else about this conversation. “Support you? Support how? With his horse cock?”

She frowned even more at his words, already from resentment and almost anger. “Leave Dunk alone… he's a good boy… we're friends… and don't say such things… it's debauchery…”

Aerion's expression turned hard, cold, and almost cruel. Something snapped inside him — like her defense of «Dunk» set off some switch inside him. “Debauchery? Am I debauched? You invited him, you let him lie with you, next to you. Pressing his muscles against your soft skin. Why do you still wear a cross around your neck, ha? Well… so you lost your virginity?”

“No, I…” She listened to his tirade, squeezing the cross in her fingers. “Everything was not like that… he…”

Aerion slammed his glass down on the table — the loud clatter making her flinch. His face was pure, seething anger now. “Then what was it like?” he growled. “Huh? What happened between you two?” He wasn't just asking anymore — he was demanding answers. Like this was an interrogation and he had every right to know. The kitchen felt smaller suddenly… suffocating with his rage radiating off him in waves.

“I was scared… I felt them all the time… them behind my back…” SonTeri answered, frowning at how they had ended up during this conversation. “I invited Dunk to spend the night… you left and didn't tell me anything… I didn't want to be alone…” She lowered her gaze slightly. “I felt better… he checked the house, looked around, he believed me…”

Aerion's anger didn't fade — but it shifted. The rage in his eyes flickered, replaced by something more complicated. Almost like… betrayal? “So he played hero,” he muttered bitterly, “Checkin' the house… believin’ ya.”

“He helped me,” she muttered under her breath. Remembering their sleepover. How scared she had been, how paranoia and loneliness beat in her head. How good it had been with him, how she had cried in his arms.

Aerion's nostrils flared. The way she had muttered about Dunk. For a second, it looked like he might actually flip the damn plate off the table. But then… something in his face shut down. “Right,” he said icily, “He helped.” The sarcasm was venomous now. “Helped with what? With your imaginary ghosts? Did he ‘believe’ you? Looked around… what a fine fellow… soldier‑boy. Bullshit. He didn't believe it. He pretended. Just to get you in bed, of course, silly.”

“No.”, She said, shaking her head, not believing that Aerion was even saying this to her face. Her brows darkened and her black eyes bored into the boy, as if everything he was saying was also «her imagination.»

Her weak denial only made Aerion angrier. He hated that she was defending Dunk, hated that she had sounded so… soft when talking about him. Aerion suddenly stood — chair scraping loudly — and grabbed his plate. Without a word, he dumped the half‑eaten eggs straight into the trash. He was done with this conversation. Done with hearing about «Dunk.» The air was thick with tension now — like a storm about to break.

“Where are you going?” She turned toward him in her chair, in front of her plate of half‑eaten eggs. Her voice was almost pleading?

Aerion didn't answer. He just stormed past her, heading straight for the front door — boots thudding against the hardwood floor. He grabbed his hat off the hook and slammed it onto his head. The movement was aggressive, furious. Then the door swung open and he stepped out without a single glance back. The door slammed shut behind him — hard enough to rattle the dishes in the cabinet. The sound echoed through the house, leaving her sitting alone at the table. Silence filled the space where Aerion had just been standing. No explanation. No "I'll be back." Just… gone. The eggs on her plate were cold now. The kitchen felt too big, too empty without his presence filling it with tension and anger.

A feeling of anxiety washed over her again. She glanced at the window again out of habit. SonTeri slowly got up from the table, her legs feeling weak again. She didn't follow him, just sat under the table, closing her ears and eyes again. Her heart pounded again, her head spun. 'He left me again.' 'Maybe I shouldn't have denied everything about Duncan so brazenly. Maybe I should have been gentler?'

The house was too quiet again, the same one from earlier — before Aerion had even come back. She curled up under the table like a scared animal, knees pressed to her chest. Her breath came too fast… heartbeat loud in her ears. 'Did I mess up? Should I have handled it differently? Maybe if I hadn't defended Dunk so fiercely… maybe Aerion wouldn't have stormed out?' A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck — the paranoia creeping back in now that he was gone.

SonTeri didn't know how long it had been. Maybe an hour. Maybe a couple. Maybe ten minutes. But she didn't hear anything. There was only a rustling in her ears. She didn't notice the creak of the door. Or the heavy footsteps. Or the way the iron‑toed shoes stopped in front of the table.

The footsteps were slow. Deliberate. Not angry anymore — just… heavy. A shadow fell over her as Aerion stood there, looking down at her curled‑up form under the table. His hat was still on, but his face was unreadable now — not furious like before. For a long moment, he just stared at her… studying how small and scared she looked again. Then — without warning — he crouched down to her level and reached out a hand toward her shoulder.

She shuddered in surprise, opening her black eyes like two balls. “Aerion? Aerion, I'm sorry… don't leave me again… don't leave, please…”

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. It wasn't gentle… but it was firm, possessive — like he was claiming her back after storming out. One hand pressed against the back of her head, holding her face into his chest as if shielding her from everything else in the world.

“I'm sorry… sorry… I was just scared and lonely… You're my friend too,” she mumbled into his chest. “You're dear to me too…”

From her desperate plea and words, it was as if a fire was burning in Aerion's chest… a fire. As if she was his project, as if she had passed his test. “Of course… of course… you know I'm always right… Fuck, when will you start listening to me?” he said, almost victoriously, when in this 'quarrel' she was the one apologizing, and so desperately at that. “If you lie with another man again while I'm away, like the last desperate whore, maybe your «ghosts» will turn out to be real, huh? Do you understand me?”

SonTeri lifted her face from his chest. Still in fear from being alone again recently. Her eyebrows raised slightly at his words. “W‑what?” She was still under the table. Aerion was crouching again.

Boy's face was close — too close. His blue eyes bored into hers, intense and almost unhinged with something dark lurking behind them. He repeated himself slowly, like he was making sure she heard every word: “If I leave… and you let another man in yer house… sleep with him…” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “There will be consequences.” It sounded less like a threat and more like a cold fact — like the natural order of things to him.

Aerion's expression didn't waver. He meant it — every single word. The quiet intensity in his voice was more terrifying than if he had shouted. He reached out and gripped her chin, not roughly but firmly, forcing her to keep eye contact. “You don't invite other men,” he said, “Not ever. Not when I'm gone for five minutes… or five days.” There was something obsessive in the way he stared at her — like this rule was non‑negotiable.

Aerion's grip on her chin tightened just slightly — not enough to hurt, but enough to emphasize his point. He leaned in even closer, until his lips were almost brushing her ear. When he spoke again, it was a low growl: “Say you understand.” Not a request. A demand. The air between them crackled with tension — like this was the most important rule he would ever give her… and disobedience wasn't an option.

“I…” 'I don't want to be alone again. I need him. I'm scared to be alone, even if it's just my imagination. If he needs to hear this, then…' “… uhm... understand…”

Aerion exhaled — almost satisfied. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction when she finally submitted. He released her chin and instead cupped the side of her face. “Good girl,” he murmured — and it sounded weirdly affectionate coming from someone who had just been threatening consequences moments ago.

She felt like she was clinging to his arms. Feeling fire beneath them. Feeling like she was on fire herself. “But…” Her eyebrow twitched slightly. “But I can't be alone in my home… I still feel uneasy… This feeling still won't leave me, Aerion…”

Young man studied her face — the fear still lingering in her eyes, the way she clung to him like a lifeline. It was as if pleasure was hidden behind the blue of his eyes. As if he had achieved his goal, as if he had sculpted it all himself. Without warning, he stood — still holding onto her — and pulled her up with him. “Then I'm stayin' with ya,” he declared.

“With me… in my house…?” She says as he pulls her out from under the table.

Aerion nodded once — sharp, decisive. Like it had already been decided. He grabbed his hat off the floor and shoved it back on his head before reaching for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers with a firm grip. “Yeah,” he said, “Tonight. And tomorrow night. However long until you stop bein' scared.” There was no asking if she wanted him to stay… he was just doing it — like this was how things were going to be from now on.

They stepped out into the heat of the street, under which everything melted. She walked on weak legs, but for some reason the grip of his hand felt good. 'Will he stay with me? I'm... glad. I will be good with him.'

The Texas sun beat down mercilessly, turning the pavement into a shimmering oven. But Aerion didn't seem to mind — he walked with purpose, his grip on her hand anchoring her. Every so often, he glanced sideways at her — checking if she was keeping up. His face was unreadable… but there was something almost protective in the way he adjusted his stride to match hers. Her house wasn't far. Soon enough, the familiar porch came into view.

Aerion followed her inside without hesitation. It was quiet here… too quiet. The kind of silence that made paranoid thoughts louder. Without being asked, Aerion dropped onto her couch — making himself at home like it was his right. He leaned back, stretching an arm along the cushions behind him.

She sat down on the couch next to him. Listening to the house. No rustling. She turned to look at the window above the kitchen sink. Probably even the feeling of watching eyes went away… She fidgeted awkwardly on the couch. “I missed you,” she said quietly. Her dirty pants had been left at his house.

Aerion turned his head slightly at her quiet confession. For a second, he just looked at her, then, unexpectedly… he reached out and pulled her into his side. One strong arm wrapped around her shoulders, tucking her against him. “I know,” he murmured — not mocking or cold this time… just stating a fact.

Aerion rested his chin lightly on top of her head, exhaling through his nose. The weight of him — solid, warm, real — chased away the lingering chill that paranoia had left in her bones. He didn't say anything else. Just held her there… like a shield against whatever ghosts she thought were lurking outside. The house was silent. No rustling. No creaks that sounded like footsteps. For the first time in days… it felt safe.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

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.

•─────⋅☾ ○ ☽⋅─────•

The front door creaked open — her parents finally home. Her mom stepped in first, duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She looked tired but glowing with relief. "Teri!" she cried, dropping the bag and rushing to hug her. Behind her, her dad entered — military‑straight posture, scanning the house like a security check. His eyes landed on her… then darted around for signs of Aerion.

"Mom," girl said with a smile.

Her mom squeezed her tight — her hug warm, maternal, smelling like military laundry soap. She kissed her cheeks, her forehead… fussing over her after weeks apart. "Oh my baby," she cooed, "You're thinner! Did you eat?" Meanwhile, her dad stood stiffly by the door — still assessing. No smile yet. Just quiet observation.

"Oh… of course." Girl looked a little tired, there were dark circles under her eyes, stress. She didn't know whether to tell them about what happened or not. "I'm fine."

Her mom frowned — she was too observant. "You don't look fine," she said softly, cupping her face. Her dad finally moved — setting down his duffel and stepping closer. "Where is he?" A direct question. No small talk. Just business.

She looked up at her father. Her mother did too, frowning. He hadn't seen his daughter for three weeks.

"What?"

Her dad crossed his arms — unimpressed. "Aerion," he repeated, voice stern. Like a drill sergeant calling out a soldier. Her mom shot him a look — "Really? First thing?"

Her mom sighed — exhausted from the trip, not wanting tension immediately. Woman turned to her, ignoring her dad's interrogation. "Let me see the house first," she said gently, slipping off her boots. "Did you clean? It smells nice." A peace offering — focus on normal things before diving into serious conversations.

Her mom nodded, stepping further inside — running a hand over the freshly dusted coffee table. She smiled at her, proud. The house was spotless. Smelled like lemon cleaner. Her dad, however, remained by the door… still waiting for an answer about Aerion. "Sontu," he said again — firmly this time, "Where's Maekar's son?"

Girl turned her head towards him, studying his frowning face. "Are you mad, Dad? You didn't even hug me." She said strangely directly.

Her dad blinked — caught off guard. Guilt flashed across his stern face. He hadn't hugged her. Without a word, he strode forward and pulled her into a tight, military‑style embrace — crushing her ribs slightly. A brief, gruff hug… but full of unspoken love. "Sorry, kiddo." he mumbled into her hair.

Her dad held the hug a second longer — unexpected for him. Then he pulled back, clearing his throat. The moment of vulnerability passed. Back to business. "Now," he said, turning toward the kitchen like a man on a mission, "Where's Aerion?" Her mom followed behind him, shooting her an apologetic glance.

SonTeri rolled her eyes as she set the table. "He's working, Dad… as usual." She glanced at the neighbors' ranch across the road.

Her dad nodded — processing that. Aerion was a worker, at least. He walked to the window, peering out toward Maekar's ranch. Sure enough — Aerion was visible in the distance, shirt off despite the afternoon heat, dragging hay bales. "Hm," her dad grunted. No praise… but no immediate criticism either.

Her mom bustled into the kitchen, opening cabinets — checking if she had eaten. She pulled out a container of leftover stew from earlier and started reheating it on the stove. "We brought food," she said, "I'm making sure you eat first." A classic mom move. Prioritizing her nutrition over everything else.

Her dad leaned against the counter, arms crossed — still watching her. The tension was thick. He wanted to ask more about Aerion… but her mom's cooking distraction kept him from pressing right now. A silence settled — until the smell of reheating stew filled the air. The house felt… normal. Like a family reunion after deployment.

They sat down to lunch. SonTeri looked at her parents, still dusty and tired after the journey. She smiled, already forgetting about paranoia and loneliness. Everything was like before. They were here. With her.

Her mom passed the plates — warm stew, fresh bread. The kind of meal that felt like home. She sat across from her, finally relaxing. Her tired eyes softened as she watched her eat. Her dad ate quietly… but his shoulders were less rigid now. Seeing her safe — eating, smiling — eased something in him. A peaceful lunch. Just family for once.

The meal passed in quiet comfort — clinks of silverware, the occasional hum from her mom as she sipped tea. Her dad ate methodically… but he kept glancing at her. Like he was mentally cataloging her well‑being. Halfway through, her mom broke the silence: "How've you been? Really?" A gentle question. Not accusatory. Just concerned.

SonTeri looked up at her parents. "Good… it was a little lonely… but Aerion helped me. He took me to town… and Dunk came by once." Hearing Dunk, her parents perked up. They were bothered by the fact that she had chosen a neighbor, and not a family friend, a boy they idolized.

"Dunk was here?" mom asked, trying to sound casual… but failing. Her tone was too eager. Her dad, however, frowned slightly. Not hostile — just disappointed. Like he had hoped she would choose someone from their circle. "That boy's sweet," her mom added softly, "Good family."

Her dad stabbed his stew with a fork — silent judgment. He didn't say anything about Dunk… but the message was clear: He would have preferred her dating him over Aerion. Her mom, meanwhile, leaned forward: "What did he do? Did you two talk?" A hopeful glint in her eye. Maybe there was still a chance for Dunk?

"It was a regular sleepover… like when we were kids," girl said, not looking up from the meat. She kept silent about the real reason why she had invited Dunk.

Her mom nodded — relieved. A sleepover was harmless. Platonic. But her dad's frown deepened slightly. He remembered how close they had been as kids… wondered if that friendship ever had more potential. "Good," her mom said, smiling, "I'm glad he checked on you." A polite way of saying: I wish it was him instead of Aerion.

Her dad finally broke his silence, voice gruff but not angry: "Aerion… he treats you right?" A loaded question. Not accusatory yet — but probing. Her parents were assessing the man they didn't know. Her mom held her breath, waiting for her answer too.

SonTeri finally looked up. "Of course… he's the only one who hasn't forgotten about me here… we were good friends."

Her dad looked at her — studying her face. Her expression. How she spoke. He searched for anything disingenuous… but she seemed sincere. "Hm," he grunted after a moment. Not an outright approval. Still wary. Her mom, however, seemed less skeptical. In fact, a small smile tugged at her lips. "He cares about you," she said softly… almost like she could picture Aerion as her son‑in‑law.

The questions continued. Like interrogating. Sometimes Dad forgot she wasn't a soldier. Her dad leaned forward — elbows on the table. "Does he drink? Smoke? Have a temper?" Each question was rapid‑fire. Military precision. Like he was conducting a background check in real time. Her mom sighed quietly — she knew this drill.

She hesitated slightly, clearing her throat. They wouldn't like the answer. "Well… I mean… Dad, we're in Texas… he's a white guy." She said, as if the answer was self‑evident.

Her dad squinted — that answer didn't reassure him. White guys in Texas? That could mean anything. Cowboys, drunks, hotheads… the spectrum was wide. "That's not an answer," he said flatly. "Does he drink too much? Get violent?" A direct follow‑up. No dancing around it now.

SonTeri hesitated for a few seconds. Girl took a deep breath. Judging by the actual answers, why was she even talking to him? She tried to keep a calm face. 'He's good… really… always good to me… but not everyone is perfect, right?' "No… no," she shook her head.

Her dad studied her face — searching for tells. Hesitation. Fear. He was trained to read microexpressions… and something in her answer wasn't sitting right with him. "Teri," her mom interjected gently, "Sweetheart, if he ever does anything wrong… you tell us, okay?" A soft plea from her — not an interrogation like his.

"He won't do anything wrong," she answered, almost confidently, pushing the plate away.

Her dad exchanged a glance with her mom — silent communication passing between them. They didn't believe her. Not fully. "Alright," her dad said finally, leaning back. He wouldn't push… for now. But the suspicion lingered in his eyes. Her mom reached over, squeezing her hand reassuringly — like she was silently promising: We're here if you need us.

Girl started clearing the table. "Are you home for long?" she began carefully.

Her mom helped her gather dishes — stacking them neatly. "Two weeks," she answered, "Then we deploy again." A pang of sadness. They had just got here… and soon they would leave again. Her dad dried his hands on a towel, adding: "We wanted to spend time with you. See how things are going."

SonTeri smiled slightly at this news. "Two weeks? Sounds great."

Her mom grinned — genuinely happy. Two weeks was a luxury compared to their usual deployments. She started humming as she scrubbed dishes, the kitchen filling with warmth. Her dad headed to the living room, turning on the TV — some news channel. A background noise for family time. "We'll do stuff," her mom said, "Go out. Have dinner in town… maybe a movie."

Her dad muttered from the couch: "We could grill tonight. If you want." A peace offering — his version of quality time. 'Cooking outside, maybe a beer, if the wife allows.' Her mom nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! We'll get some steaks… Aerion can join too, if he's free." She said it casually… but there was curiosity in her tone.

SonTeri turned her head to her father, thinking about the option. "Sounds good… I told Aerion that we would invite his family to us… we will, right? Mister Maekar and Egg… and maybe Daeron."

Her dad nodded — serious, but not opposed. "Sure. We'll meet the family," he said, like a general planning a formal event. Her mom lit up at Egg's name: "Oh! That sweet little boy!" She adored kids — especially polite ones like Egg. Daeron? Less enthusiastic about him… drunk uncle vibes.

Her dad stood up — decision made. "I'll text Maekar," he said, pulling out his phone. A rare moment of him taking the lead on social plans. Her mom headed to the fridge, checking what they had for grilling. "We need buns… salad… maybe dessert?" She was already in full hostess mode — determined to make a good impression on Aerion's family.

"There's no connection here, Dad." Girl corrected her father. He was always at the base, with the newly minted things. And here in the outskirts, nothing worked. "I'll tell Aerion myself."

Her dad paused, realizing his mistake. Right — no cell service out here. He frowned, setting the phone back down. "Right," he muttered. "I forget." A small frustration — being cut off from communication like a civilian.

・❥・

SonTeri left the house, heading towards the ranch. Approaching Aerion, who was working. And she knew for sure that Dad was watching from the kitchen window. Aerion had probably already seen his parents' car.

Aerion straightened the second he spotted her approaching — sweaty, shirtless, leaning on a pitchfork. "Hey," he said as she neared, voice low. Coming up to kiss her.

She automatically looked away, nervously moving away. "Hey."

Aerion frowned — catching her weird tension. He wiped his hands on his jeans, then stepped closer. No kiss yet. "What's wrong?" he asked, eyes darting toward the house — spotting her dad in the window. "Your folks staring?"

"Dad's mad," she said, looking at Aerion, running her eyes over his torso. "My parents want to invite your family to a barbecue today."

Aerion snorted — amused by her dad's anger. "Let him be mad," he said, shrugging. Then he grinned at the barbecue invitation. "Cool."

Aerion wiped his brow with the back of his hand — still sweaty from labor. He grabbed a nearby t‑shirt, yanking it over his head. No point in meeting her parents looking like a farmhand. "We'll go soon," he said, then leaned in to kiss her — quick but firm. "Your dad better chill."

She awkwardly tucked her hair behind her ear. Father wouldn't like this. She glanced at her distant home. "At seven in the evening… and… can you not talk about… my 'problems'?"

Aerion's expression darkened for half a second — almost imperceptible. Then it smoothed out. Neutral. "What problems?" he said, voice deliberately blank. "There are no problems." A lie. A perfect one. The way he looked at her — like she was just being silly. He grabbed his keys from the fence post, ready to go home and clean up for dinner with her parents.

"See you later," she said after him.

Aerion nodded — already walking toward his house without another word. Efficient. No lingering affection. He disappeared inside Maekar's ranch house… leaving her standing there under the Texas sun. The barbecue was on. The real test began soon.

・❥・

The door creaked open. She entered her house. The air conditioner allowed her to exhale. She could still feel the touch at the corners of her lips. She needed to help Mom with the preparations. She also needed to impress her boyfriend's father. She entered the kitchen, where Mom was fussing and Dad was chopping meat with a mini‑axe. "They'll be there at seven," she said in a neutral voice.

Her dad slammed the axe into the cutting board — harder than necessary. "Seven," he repeated coldly, not looking at her. Her mom ignored his mood — focused on wrapping steaks in foil for the grill. "Okay… I'm making potato salad. Teri, sweetie… can you set the table outside?"

"Of course…" girl grabbed the dishes and walked out into their backyard, taking one last look at her dad.

Her dad watched her go — still tense, still judging. Outside, the backyard was peaceful — table set under a string of patio lights. Her mom had prepared everything ahead of time… just waiting for guests.

・❥・

・❥・

In the evening, when the sun began to hide behind the further mountains and the bird cried out seven o'clock as it flew out of its house, SonTeri came down the stairs from the second floor. In her Sunday church dress. Besides, she didn't have any normal clothes; Mom had demanded she not wear those weird clothes she had bought in Minnesota. A plaid dress, her hair up, and glasses. Her parents also looked fresh now, without the fatigue from work and road dust. Everything was ready in the courtyard. She was a little nervous.

The doorbell rang — right on time. Her mom straightened her blouse, taking a deep breath. Her dad stood stiffly beside the grill — flipping burgers like nothing was wrong, but his jaw was tight. Aerion stepped in first… followed by Maekar and Egg. Daeron was nowhere to be seen, likely too drunk for this.

Mother greeted the neighbors, they had already met. The three of them looked presentable too, even Aerion. Maybe this was Maekar's doing.

Maekar tipped his hat — polite, southern gentleman mode activated. "Ma'am," he said to her mom without a smile, but with polite face. Then nodded at her dad. "Sir." Aerion lingered behind them, dressed in a button‑up and jeans — clean‑shaven for once. Egg waved shyly at her from his father's side. Her mom ushered them outside where the grill smelled amazing.

Aerion met her father for the first time. Shaking his hand. SonTeri watched a little nervously. While Egg and Maekar entertained her mother, her dad gripped Aerion's hand — firm, assessing. Aerion matched the pressure perfectly. Not too weak. Not aggressive either. "You Maekar's boy?" her dad asked — gruff, direct. Aerion smiled that easy, charming smile — the one that disarmed people. "Yes sir. Aerion." Her dad studied him — those blue eyes, the sharp face. Pretty boy. Aerion knew what he was doing: polite, respectful… no red flags on purpose. "You treat her right?" her dad cut straight to the point. Aerion didn't flinch. Just nodded firmly: "With everything I got."

She just nodded at his answer, listening to the conversation from afar while pouring drinks.

Her dad narrowed his eyes — searching for deception. He found none. Aerion's answer was smooth, sincere… and delivered with perfect eye contact. A beat of silence. Then her dad gave a single nod — the first hint of approval. "Good." One word. Heavy meaning: He passed the initial test.

Girl handed out drinks to the guests and her parents while her father grilled the meat. She walked up to Aerion, handing him a glass of lemonade and looking at him. It was strange to see him not dirty or sweaty… or at least not bare‑handed.

Aerion accepted the lemonade with a small, polite smile — the kind that made him look harmless. But his fingers brushed hers just a second too long. A quiet claim. "Beer be better," he murmured — only for her to hear. Then he turned back to her dad, seamlessly re‑engaging in conversation like nothing happened.

Her dad noticed the brief touch — but said nothing. Just flipped a burger with more force than necessary. Aerion kept his posture relaxed, easygoing… the perfect guest. He was winning over her parents — one polite interaction at a time. Egg, meanwhile, was giggling as her mom showed him her garden flowers.

They all sat down at the table. Putting the grill aside for now, she sat down opposite Aerion. Girl saw that her father had even more questions in store. Maekar looked at his two sons, praying that they wouldn't embarrass him.

Her dad cleared his throat — ready to drop the next question. "Aerion," he started, cutting into a steak, "You got plans after high school?" Aerion chewed calmly, then swallowed. "Joining my dad's business. I'm the heir." Solid answer. Stable future. Maekar nodded approvingly beside him — proud of his son's ambition.

Her dad nodded — this was good. A son taking over the family business? Respectable. He ate another bite, considering. Her mom, meanwhile, smiled at Maekar: "That's wonderful! Aerion must be smart." A genuine compliment — she liked that he had direction. Aerion just sipped his lemonade… playing the part of a responsible young man perfectly.

Egg munched on his food quietly, kicking his little feet under the table. Just rolled eyes. Maekar ate steadily — watching Aerion like a hawk to make sure he behaved. A comfortable silence fell… until her dad spoke again: "You churchgoing?" Another test. Religion mattered in Bardo's home.

Maekar frowned slightly. SonTeri tightened her grip on her fork.

Aerion hesitated — just a fraction of a second. Maekar's frown deepened. He knew his son didn't go… but it wasn't something they advertised. "I… don't," Aerion admitted, calm but firm. "Not my thing." Her dad raised an eyebrow — disappointed, maybe even judging slightly. But he didn't explode yet.

"But we don't force people, do we?…" girl hastened to smooth things over. "You can't force a person. That's not right."

Her mom nodded quickly — agreeing with her. "No, of course not," she said diplomatically, shooting her dad a look. "Everyone has their own beliefs." Maekar exhaled through his nose — unhappy but accepting. He wouldn't push the issue… for now. Aerion stayed quiet, watching the table dynamics like a strategist.

Her dad grunted — not fully satisfied, but willing to let it go. For the sake of dinner. He stabbed another piece of steak, chewing silently. The conversation lulled… until Egg piped up: "I go to church!" A child's innocent declaration — breaking the tension slightly. Maekar patted his son's head proudly.

Dinner continued. The adults were talking. Aerion stood up to supervise the meat. Like a true southerner. "I'm for the meat," he said in a soft voice and a polite smile. But his eyes were still deathly blue.

Aerion stood — fluid, graceful — heading back to the grill. He checked the burgers, flipping them with practiced ease. The scent of sizzling meat filled the air. Her dad watched him… quietly reassessing. At least he knew how to handle a grill — a respectable skill for a man. Aerion's hands moved confidently… but his gaze flicked up occasionally — to her, then her parents.

"I'll be soon," girl said quietly, standing up with an awkward smile and approaching the guy.

Aerion turned his head slightly as she approached — his expression softening into something deceptively tender. But beneath the surface? A possessive thrill. She had come to him. On her own. "Hey," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear — gentle, intimate… a public display of affection meant for his parents and hers to see.

She awkwardly took his rough hand and lowered it back to the grill. Not here. Not in front of her father. Awkwardly pursing her lips. "You're doing well." She said quietly, seeing Aerion frown. "And you look good too."

Aerion's frown deepened — irritation flashing in his eyes for half a second. He hated when she pulled away. Hated being denied affection, especially in front of others. But he masked it instantly — smiling that perfect, polite smile again as he flipped a burger. "I know," he said evenly… too calmly. A warning hidden under pleasantness.

"I think my parents liked you," she said quietly, moving closer. She felt the heat from the fire. Oil splashed. "Do you think your father liked me?"

Aerion glanced toward Maekar — who was deep in conversation with her dad. His father nodded at something her dad said… a good sign. "Yeah," Aerion admitted quietly, "He likes you. Thinks you're polite." A rare compliment from his stern, traditional dad. The grill sizzled between them — oil popping as the burgers cooked.

SonTeri smiled at this information.

Aerion suddenly set the spatula down — abrupt. He turned fully toward her, crowding into her space despite the grill's heat. His eyes were dark now… intense. "Ya been avoiding me," he murmured — low enough that only she heard. "Why?" A quiet accusation. Not yelling… but the threat was there: he noticed her distance earlier.

"What?" She suddenly turned back to him, tilting her head.

Aerion's jaw tightened — irritation flaring. He didn't repeat himself. Instead, he reached out and grabbed her chin, tilting her face up to his. "Ya pulled away," he said through gritted teeth — still smiling for anyone looking, but his grip was firm. "Don't do that shit." A warning. A reminder: she didn't ignore him in public.

"Oh… um…" She hesitated awkwardly, trying to resist the urge to push his hand away again. "This is a little awkward in front of my parents…"

Aerion held her chin a second longer — staring into her eyes with quiet dominance. Then, finally, he released her… but not before brushing his thumb over her bottom lip — a possessive gesture. "So? I'm yer man," he whispered. Cold. Final. He turned back to the grill like nothing happened… but the message was clear.

She frowned slightly, puffing out her cheeks. Straining her brain. Glancing at the table where the adults were sitting chatting, Egg had become bored and was rummaging through the flowers. She returned to him again. "My parents are not like everyone else… you know… and neither am I…" she began quietly, fiddling with the cross on her neck. "I don't… I don't forbid you…"

Aerion's eyes dropped to her fidgeting hands — the cross. A symbol of faith, of rules. Something he resented on principle. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist — stopping her from touching the necklace. "Don't," he said coldly. "You don't need that." A demand disguised as a suggestion.

Aerion studied her. He exhaled through his nose. Annoyed… but also calculating. "You don't forbid me," he repeated slowly, "But you're acting like I scare you." A pause. Then he leaned in — close enough that his breath ghosted her ear: "I ain't scary."

"No, of course not…" SonTeri nodded slowly. Taking one last look at the table, where her father glanced at them. Girl hurried to grab the plates with burgers. "I'll take them…" she said quietly.

Aerion watched her hurry with plates — efficient, avoiding eye contact. He was not happy… but he wouldn't cause a scene. Not with her dad staring. Instead, he grabbed the condiment tray — ketchup, mustard — and followed her back to the table. The adults fell silent as food was served… Maekar giving his son an approving nod for handling things smoothly.

Her dad took the plate she handed him — silent, but his gaze lingered on Aerion a second too long. Was he suspicious? Worried about how close they had been by the grill? Aerion sat beside Egg, passing ketchup to Maekar like nothing was wrong. The dinner continued… polite chatter resuming over food.

Egg chewed happily, oblivious to the tension. Maekar started a conversation with her dad about cattle prices — neutral territory. Aerion ate methodically, stealing glances at her between bites. Every so often, his boot brushed hers under the table — a quiet reminder: he was still there. Still watching. The meal was almost over… and so far? No major disasters.

・❥・

The plates were cleared, the grill put out. Her mom started gathering dishes for washing — Maekar offering to help. Aerion stood too, stretching slightly. The dinner was a success… but now came the awkward part: goodbyes. Egg yawned — tired from all the adult talk. It was getting late.

Maekar patted Egg's head. "Time to go, son." Aerion nodded, turning to her — expecting a proper goodbye. A kiss? A hug? Something in front of her parents now that the meal was over. Her dad lingered by the sink… pretending not to watch. Her mom dried her hands, curious about how Aerion would say farewell.

Aerion stepped closer, his gaze flicking from her eyes to her mouth. He wanted to touch her. It was obvious — the way he stood just a little too close, the way his eyes fixed on her lips. But he hesitated. So instead, he just reached out… taking her hand in his. "Night," he murmured quietly — but the touch was intense, too possessive.

She nodded to him, awkwardly, but still clinging to him. "Good dinner."

Aerion squeezed her hand — just a little too tight. Not painful… but firm. "Yeah," he said, voice low. "Good dinner." Simple words. Neutral tone. But the way he looked at her? Anything but neutral. Maekar cleared his throat — they needed to leave soon.

Aerion reluctantly let go of her hand, turning to his dad. Maekar was already herding Egg toward the door — polite goodbyes exchanged with her parents. "We'll see y'all," Maekar said, tipping his hat to her and her mom. Aerion lingered for half a second… then followed them out. The porch light cast long shadows as they walked to their house.

・❥・

The door closed and they were left alone with her parents. SonTeri didn't ask her parents about their impressions yet. They cleaned up together, standing in the kitchen. She tried to guess what was going on in her father's head.

Her dad scrubbed a pan aggressively — more force than necessary. A telltale sign: he was thinking hard. Processing. Her mom hummed softly as she stacked dishes… but even her movements were slower than usual, like she was choosing her words carefully. The silence stretched… heavy with unasked opinions about Aerion.

Her dad finally broke the silence — setting the cleaned pan down with a loud clatter. "He seems decent," he admitted gruffly. High praise from him. Her mom nodded, drying her hands. "I liked his family… Maekar's a good man." A beat. Then she added gently: "Aerion treated you well tonight?"

"Yes, of course…" SonTeri put away the remains of the food. "He tries… for me…"

Her dad nodded — not fully convinced, but willing to believe her for now. Her mom studied her face… like she was searching for something unsaid. "He seems… intense," she said carefully — not a criticism, just an observation.

Girl just pouted, simply shrugging her shoulders. "He works a lot… his future business is on him," she said, wiping the plates.

Her dad grunted — respecting hard work, at least. "Good. A man who works is a man who provides," he muttered, the closest he would get to approval. Her mom leaned against the counter, watching her dry dishes. "He's handsome," she added lightly — trying to lighten the mood with something simple and safe.

"Very…" She simply nodded in agreement. No hidden agenda. Just a fact. Her parents knew she was weird. But for some reason they didn’t take me to see special doctors as a child.

Her dad held her gaze — unflinching, dead serious. "Are you… sleeping with him?" A direct question. No beating around the bush. The military in him demanded answers — plain and clear. Her mom stiffened slightly beside him, bracing for her reaction.

Girl just opened her mouth, her eyebrows shot up and cheeks burning. She almost dropped the rag. "Dad!"

Her dad didn't back down — arms crossed, face unreadable. He wasn't yelling… but the intensity was there. This wasn't a casual question — it was an interrogation. Her mom winced slightly, knowing this line of questioning would come eventually… but hating how blunt it was. "Answer me," her dad said quietly — firmly.

She frowned, pouting. Imagining Aerion like...this. "No… no… we've only been dating for a couple of days…" But they had slept in the same bed, that was true. "Dad… you're so straightforward!"

Her dad exhaled — relieved, but not entirely surprised. A couple of days? They were too close for a couple of days today... in his opinion. "Good," he said simply. Then added: "You're young. No rush. No babies in my house." Strict… but fair. A traditional Asian stance on relationships. Her mom relaxed slightly — glad it was nothing serious yet. "But it will happen. I know young guys. The whole base is teeming with them. You know… you have to be careful. Let him just try to touch you… and I…" her father continued.

Her face became redder and her cheeks tingled as if with micro-needles, she rolled her eyes, scrubbing the plate harder. "Stop it, Dad…"

Her dad raised an eyebrow — unfazed by her eye roll. He wasn't stopping. This was a father‑son talk… except it was her, his daughter. "I mean it," he pressed, "If that boy gets handsy —" A protective notes laced his tone. The thought of Aerion overstepping made him tense up. Her mom sighed… knowing this conversation wasn't ending anytime soon.

Her dad paused — seeing her discomfort. He wasn't cruel… just overprotective. He sighed, rubbing his temples like a tired pilot. "Look," he said, voice lower now, "I just don't want you getting hurt. That boy seems intense." A backhanded compliment — but the worry was genuine. Her mom finally interjected: "Let her breathe, honey."

Her dad sighed — finally relenting. The kitchen fell into a quieter rhythm… tension easing. Her mom hummed again, filling the silence with something peaceful. Aerion's name wasn't brought up again for tonight. The interrogation was over.

Her dad picked up a dish towel — helping dry the last of the dishes without another word. A peace offering. He was done scolding… for now. Her mom kissed her forehead as she passed by — maternal comfort after her husband's intensity. The house settled into that calm, post‑dinner hush. Tomorrow was another day… but tonight? Just quiet family time.

The clock ticked toward midnight. The dishes were done. Her parents headed to bed — her dad with a grunt, her mom giving her a soft smile on her way upstairs. She was left alone in the quiet kitchen… the leftover food packed away, the house dark and still. Aerion was probably home by now. What was he doing? Thinking about her?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

"Aerion?" They had officially made up today. It was strange to hear his voice again. She looked up at his hat.He took a step forward, closing a fraction of the distance between them. "In the flesh." He said it almost like a drawl. His eyes were still a mystery under the shadow of his hat. "Was wonderin' what the hell you was doin' out here in this damn heat." His gaze swept up and down her, taking her not weird clothes today, it was... weird for her. A smirk tugged at his bruised lip. "Lookin' cute, darlin'. Or tryin' to get sunburnt?"

She cringed slightly, not used to being dressed like this. But Texas heat forced her to. With her hand, she pushed strands of hair forward, subconsciously covering her chest. "Thanks?" she answered awkwardly. "Nope... it's just... hot here... yeah."

His smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watched her shift around awkwardly in her outfit. He noted the way she clutched the cross around her neck and covered herself with her hair. The gesture did not go unnoticed. "Just hot, huh?" he said quietly, taking another step closer, closing the distance even more. His tone was playful, teasing even. "Sure you ain't just tryna catch a farmer's eye, darlin'? You're gonna make some poor cowpoke mighty flustered, dressed like that."

"Don't say lewd things." She rolled her eyes awkwardly, with the tone of a religious pastor. And again she looked up to the sky. Aliens wouldn't say that about ordinary clothes.

A low chuckle escaped his lips at her response. It almost sounded dangerous. "Lewd? Darlin', I ain't said anything lewd yet." He closed the distance even more, standing just a few feet away from her now — the heat rolling off him in waves. He followed her gaze up to the sky, still in the shadows of his hat. "What the hell you looking for up there?"

She did not let her head drop from the sky. "Aliens," she simply answered. "And also a beautiful shade of blue."

He frowned slightly, grinning. She's acting like the town crazy again. He shook his head slightly, almost amused but also exasperated. "Aliens, huh? What kinda shit yer talkin' about?" He took off his hat, swiping a hand back through his hair. The sun hit his face fully now, illuminating the sharp angles and strong jaw. The bruise was still prominent on his lip.

He looked at her for a moment — taking in her outfit again, the way her hair fell around her shoulders, her eyes still fixed on the sky. "You ain't afraid of gettin' burnt, darlin'? Sun's strong today." His gaze briefly glanced over her exposed skin, lingering on the way she had covered herself with her hair. He almost seemed to want to say something — but held back. His gaze drifted back to her eyes. "What kinda aliens do you think we got flyin' around up there anyway?"

"I don't know..." Girl lowered her head. "They're invisible," she said. She raised her head to him, still standing awkwardly in unusual clothes in front of him. He put his cowboy hat on her head; she felt heavy dark darkness on her face.

He huffed — a sound almost like a quiet laugh. "Invisible, huh? Ain't much chance we'd see 'em then, darlin'." He watched as she raised her head, her cheeks flushed and hair falling around her face. He noted the way her body shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, still standing there in those short shorts. "Here, take this," he said, putting his oversized cowboy hat on her head, casting a shadow over her face. His hand lingered, almost like an accidental brush.

"That oughta protect ya from the sun, yeah?" he said quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Can't have ya gettin' burnt, lookin' like that. Would be a damn shame." His hand lingered on the hat a moment longer, fixing the brim over her face. Aerion's fingers brushed against the skin of her cheek, rough and calloused from years of hard work. He quickly pulled away, as if suddenly realizing he had lingered too long. The bruise on his lip stood out more in the shadows cast by the hat.

"You are more likely to get sunburned... what will you do?" she asked.

He shrugged, a lopsided smile playing on his split lip. "Reckon I'm a little more used to the sun than you, darlin'. I ain't no city princess, spendin' all day in the shade. Got workin' to do." He looked down at his calloused hands, flexing them. "These hands are used to the sun, not hidin' and coverin' like some delicate flower."

"What about our agreement from yesterday?" she asked with interest, raising her head to him, in his hat. "Your... «action»?"

Aerion smirk faded slightly at her question, his expression turning more serious. He studied her for a moment — her face half‑hidden under the shadow of his hat, her dark eyes peering up at him. "Action?" he repeated lowly. His jaw tensed just slightly before he continued, "I ain't forgot about that." He took a step closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him again — his voice dropping to something rough and quiet: "Ya want me to prove I'm good? Fine. But don't say I didn't warn ya when it gets... interesting." He paused. "Let's go," he said, taking her warm little hand. "I'll show ya the results of my work so that ya... 'see that I'm good'... in person." He mimicked her words from yesterday.

"What? Where?" She was surprised, but she did not remove her hand from his grip. His hands were hot and hard. "What did you do overnight?"

A sly smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched her reaction. He did not answer her question but still held her hand — his touch was hot and strangely rough. "You'll see, darlin'. C'mon." He began to lead her forward, out into the field. The Texas landscape spread out in all directions around them. The sun was high in the sky, the air thick with the promise of a blazing, sweltering day.

They approached the Targaryen garage. Aerion rolled out his battered red sports car.

"Are we heading into town?" SonTeri raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled at her surprise, running a hand over the hood of his car. The metal was warm under his touch. "Yeah." He popped open the passenger door for her with a little too much flair — like he was showing off. "Come. Sit." His smirk widened as he nodded toward the car — its engine still slightly smoking from being pushed too hard recently. The red paint was scuffed and scratched, but it looked faster than ever before.

He climbed into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition. The car roared to life — a low, rough growl that sent a slight shiver through the air. "Ready, darlin'?" he asked, glancing in her direction. His gaze flicked over her form again — the way she looked in his oversized cowboy hat, the way her body looked in those short shorts. Something flashed in his eyes — something he quickly hid with a smirk. "...I ain't gonna go easy on ya."

"What..." She did not have time to finish speaking before they sped off in the car towards the road, pulling out onto the highway. The hat almost flew off; she held it with her hand.

The car shot forward down the empty highway, the engine roaring in excitement. Aerion was in his element — fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly, his gaze sharp and focused on the road ahead. "You better hold on tight, darlin'," he said with a smirk, shooting a look in her direction. "I ain't one for slow drivin'."

Aerion pressed down on the accelerator even more, the car picking up speed. The wind whistled past as they raced down the highway, the open Texas landscape a blur of color and distance. The car skidded around curves, flying over the asphalt. He steered fearlessly. "You enjoyin' the ride, darlin'?" he called over the roar of the engine. There was something almost mischievous in his smirk, as though he was testing her — watching just how far he could push his fast, red sports car and his passenger, all at once.

SonTeri held her hat with one hand, her left hand gripping the seat, the wind blowing her long black hair and top. "No... what if you hit a cow?" There were a lot of slow cows on the highway here.

He laughed at her concern — his tone almost mocking. "Cows, darlin'? You worryin' more about the damn livestock than the fact we're flyin' down the highway in this beast?" He took a sharp corner, and the tires screeched in protest. The car skidded sideways before roaring forward again, accelerating even more. "You should be more concerned about losin' that hat. I ain't chasin' it down the highway for ya."

They approached the outskirts of town. Not exactly the castle. A strange place, just cars parked one behind the other. Looking back, she saw only young people. All rednecks — some dumber, some smarter. Seeing the bright red, expensive car, everyone immediately knew whose it was and started whispering, but only behind their backs. To their faces, they were all trying to stand out in front of the wild son of the Targaryens.

"You..." She looked around. Aerion lifted the roof of the car; now they were hidden inside. "...You brought me to a drive‑in?"

Aerion glanced at her in surprise, as if he expected her to be impressed. "You act like you ain't never been to a drive‑in before, darlin'," he said slyly. "Figured it'd be a hell of a lot more fun than goin' to some damn movie theater." He scanned the cars around, his jaw tensing slightly — noticing the way they all turned to watch his bright red car.

"Is this your «action»?" she asked, almost skeptically, wondering what he was up to.

Aerion glanced at her again — this time with a smirk. "One of 'em." His voice dropped to a low drawl. "Just give it a minute. You ain't seen nothin' yet." He leaned back in his seat as more cars parked in the gravel lot around the makeshift screen, the engine of his car rumbling loudly. He looked relaxed, almost comfortable in the chaos of a Texas drive‑in — as if this was where he belonged.

Boy straightened up, opened the door, and got out. "I'll be right back," he muttered and left. She was left alone, looking out the window to see where he had gone. After a while, he dragged that guy from the church by the scruff of the neck, and they both got into the backseat. SonTeri turned around from the passenger seat in amazement. Aerion looked at the boy and said, "Speak. Quickly." She looked at the guy's face — it was battered, the results of that fight with Aerion five days ago. He looked much worse: a huge swollen eye, bruises on his face, a broken nose, and a broken finger. "I forgave Aerion," the boy said quietly.

"What?" she asked awkwardly again, not understanding the situation.

"I forgave Aerion for beating me," the boy repeated.

Aerion looked at her. "This is my «action». You said to prove my goodness. You didn't like that I beat up that idiot, and so I apologized, and he forgave me."

"Did you apologize? To him?" She looked at Aerion incredulously. Studying his eyes.

He looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Yep." His tone was like he was stating the obvious. "I ain't a damn heathen. I got manners," he added, smirking to himself.

SonTeri looked back at the guy, who was still being held by the scruff of the neck. "Did you force him?"

His smile faded slightly at that — almost offended. "Forced 'im?" He repeated the word in a slightly mocking way. "No, darlin', I just... had a little talk with him is all," he said, his voice now gruff. "Was just a civil conversation." He turned to the boy. "Did I force you?"

The boy shook his head quickly. "N‑no, sir." His voice was trembling a bit.

Aerion huffed a little, loosening his grip on the guy's shirt. "Yeah. I mean it." He gave the bruised boy a small shove — not too rough — like he was dismissing him now that he had served his purpose. His gaze flicked back to her as soon as the other guy scrambled out of the car, leaving the car in awkward silence again. "So?" he said after a beat. "That what ya wanted? Proof I ain't all bad?"

"Well..." It was all too obvious. "...you tried... at least." Did she believe it all? Probably not really. But for some reason, she was even touched by the fact that he... heard her and... made the effort.

He frowned at her response — like he had been hoping for her to be more impressed than that. "Tried?" he repeated, his voice low. "What, darlin', wasn't good enough for ya?" He leaned forward, almost closer to her now — his face more serious. "Figured you'd be a lil' more grateful — seein' as how I went and proved myself even though I thought it was dumb as hell."

He climbed from the back seat to the driver's seat, accidentally nudging her slightly with his feet. Then he sat up straight. "I'm glad you listened to me..." She paused. "Thank you." Actually, she was even flattered by his efforts. She looked at him, smiling slightly. His hat had already come off her head, settling on her lap, a last attempt to cover her bare legs. 'Who knew he would drag her to such a public place?'

He looked at her for a moment when she spoke, a flicker of surprise passing over his face at the genuine gratitude in her voice — the fact that she was sincerely pleased by his efforts. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, looking away with a slight scoff. But she could see the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he was fighting to hide his pleasure. His gaze briefly flicked down to her bare legs again, lingering just a second too long — his chest rising and falling with a slow inhale.

SonTeri turned her head towards the projector in front. Some old American movie about white people was playing. "Are we really going to watch a movie?"

He followed her gaze to the screen, then back at her with a smirk. "Nah. Not really." His voice was rough with amusement. "This ain't about the damn movie, darlin'. It's about who sees us here — together." He nodded toward a few groups of people in other cars who were already sneaking glances their way. His jaw tightened slightly as he leaned closer. "Figured ya might like bein' seen on my arm for once... even if it ain't by choice."

"What do you mean?" She turned her head in his direction.

He grinned at her naiveté, as if amused. "Think, darlin'. You 'n me sittin' together in my car at some damn drive‑in, in broad daylight? 'Course the whole damn town'll be talkin' about it by tomorrow." He leaned back in his seat, tilting his hat up with a finger. "Folks love their gossip 'round here. Everyone's gonna be wonderin' what the hell's goin' on between us. It's protects you from city rednecks."

"Protect?"

He looked at her like she had just asked a stupid question. "Hell, yeah. Ain't no one gonna mess with you with me around. Anyone tries somethin' and I'll snap 'em like a twig. Plus, my last name holds weight 'round here. Ain't no one gonna mess with a Targaryen." He almost sounded smug, as if expecting her to be impressed by his reputation — by the thought of being under his protection.

SonTeri just thought about his words. The projector showed an old film. She looked around at the cars; no one was watching. She looked at the side window of the car... 'God... this is a public place... God, his hands are in her pants...' She raised her eyebrows and quickly turned away. She would rather just look at Aerion the whole time. 'All these young men and ladies came here to... have an intimate make‑out session?'

He noticed her distraction — her gaze flickering to the people in the other cars, the way she turned away from the windows. "What... whatcha lookin' at?" he asked, his tone a combination of amusement and curiosity. He glanced out the window, following her gaze — realizing what she was seeing. A few other cars were rocking, the windows fogged up, couples making out inside. Some even steamier than others.

He looked back at her, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You see that?" he muttered, nodding toward one other car in particular, where a couple was getting more than just a bit frisky. "Some folks like to... spice up their dates, huh darlin'?"

She was a little embarrassed, trying not to look at the signs. "They all do it here... who even watches the movie..."

He laughed at her reaction — clearly amused by how flustered she was. His eyes continued to flick toward the other cars. "Ain't no one here for the damn movie, darlin'. They just want to fool around 'n make out. Hell, they probably ain't even payin' attention. 's why they pick this damn place."

He watched her for a moment, noticing the blush creeping up her neck and the way she studiously avoided looking out the windows. "You ain't ever done somethin' like that? Foolin' around under the stars?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. His voice was low and rough — a hint of teasing in his tone.

"I don't want to watch a movie among people f-fucking," she said, frowning at him, but still blushing. "Why did you bring me here?"

He huffed a laugh at her reaction, clearly enjoying how flustered she was. He leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms behind his head. "First of all," he said, "they ain't exactly fuckin'. Just makin' out — get a grip." His smirk widened as he watched the color rise on her cheeks again. "Second? I brought ya 'cause I knew it'd rattle ya. Wanted to see that pretty face turn red like this."

SonTeri covered her ears from the creaking of the car parked next to them. "No... I don't like it, Aerion, no." She closed her eyes.

Aerion could not help but chuckle at her reaction — the way she covered her ears like a little child. "Relax, darlin'," he drawled, the teasing tone not leaving his voice. "They ain't hurtin' nobody. Just two folks havin' some fun. Ain't no reason to get all worked up." He watched her closely, almost taunting her in a way.

He laughed again, shaking his head slightly. "Damn, darlin'," he muttered, "you act like you ain't ever heard people havin' a good time before. Hell, you sound like you've never even had a little fun yourself." He leaned forward, his gaze lingering on her as she kept her eyes clamped shut. "You really that embarrassed just thinkin' about it? Hell, most folks 'round here do this all the time."

"I don't want to watch this movie, not here." She opened her eyes, but her hands were still on her ears.

He rolled his eyes but could not help smirking at how flustered she was — the sight of her sitting there, hands over her ears. "Ain't no one making you watch nothin'. You could always keep them pretty little eyes shut the whole damn day if ya want." He glanced out the window again, noticing another couple in a car nearby, their car rocking rhythmically.

SonTeri frowned, looking at him. "So you're staying?"

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat again. "Yeah, darlin'. I ain't goin' nowhere." He watched her for a moment, his gaze lingering on her hands clamped over her ears like a little child trying to drown out the world. There was something oddly endearing about her embarrassment.

Girl pushed his cowboy hat, which had been on her lap, towards his chest. "Then I'll leave myself." She turned towards the car door.

"Hold up, hold up, hold up." Aerion quickly caught his hat in one hand as she tried to leave. "Where the hell're you goin'?" he said, sounding slightly amused.

"I don't know... anywhere." She opened the door handle.

He grabbed her wrist before she could fully open the door — his grip firm but not harsh. "Nah, darlin'. Ain't no way I'm lettin' ya wander off into this damn place alone." His tone was gruff, protective. The thought of her leaving on her own did not sit right with him — not when he knew exactly what kind of folks were lurking around here. "So either stay put or we're leavin’. Your pick."

"I'm leaving either way, Your pick." She turned to face him with a frown as he loomed over her in the cramped confines of the car to grab her wrist.

Aerion met her gaze with a frown of his own, obviously not used to being told what to do. "Stubborn ass," he muttered, his grip on her wrist remaining firm. He studied her for a moment, his expression a mix of irritation and something else, before he sighed. "Fine. Come on, then. Let's get outta here."

He got out of the car, still holding her wrist as if he was worried she would make a break for it. "Where'd you even plan on goin' anyway?" he muttered, glancing around at the drive‑in. It was a sea of cars, all parked close together in broad daylight. The only sounds were the sounds of people having "fun" inside their cramped compartments.

She removed her hand from his grip to adjust her glasses. Aerion placed his cowboy hat back on her head. "I don't know... It's your town.", the girl said.

Aerion huffed at her response, clearly not thrilled with the idea of her wandering off into his town unsupervised. He adjusted the cowboy hat on her head — almost like he was making sure it would not fall off again. "Yeah, and? 'My town' ain't safe for a little city girl who don't know how to handle herself," he muttered gruffly. Young guy looked around briefly before leaning in slightly. "You want me to take ya home or somethin'?"

"Nope... let's go for a walk... it's boring at home." She looked at his red sports car standing out among the old village cars. "And your car is stuck here 'in the parking lot.'"

Aerion glanced at his car, then back at her. "Fair point, darlin'," he grumbled in agreement. The sleek red sports car did stick out like a sore thumb amidst the old, dusty cars around it. "Fine. A walk it is," he said reluctantly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Just... stay close."

SonTeri almost smiled at his compliance. 'Maybe he really has figured out how to behave?' "Thanks, Aerion," she said, adjusting the large hat on her head while trying to catch up with him. She tilted her head back one last time to look at the blue sky, at them, almost dropping her hat again. And together they left this field and walked to the town.

𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸

𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸𖥸

He walked at a steady pace, his stride long and confident. He glanced down at her every now and then — as if making sure she was still keeping up with him. “Y'know, darlin',” he started, his voice low and rough, “This is the first time you ain't sassin' me every second...in this day.”

They were walking along a town path. “Um… so where are we going? Do you have any ideas?” she asked.

Aerion looked down at her, considering for a second. “Ain't no set destination. Just walkin'.” He shrugged his shoulders — clearly not used to this kind of aimless wandering. Then he smirked slightly, nodding toward a small diner ahead on the roadside — the one with peeling paint and flickering neon lights in the shape of cowboy boots. “Unless ya want some greasy food?”

They approached a small establishment. Old, creaky wood, faded yellow. An American flag hung on the wall by the window, and on the adjacent wall was a black flag with a red dragon with three heads. 'Weird.', she thought. 'Was this something from a movie?' Aerion strode up the stairs in his pointy boots, and she followed him, still feeling awkward in short shorts and a top. He opened the door as he entered, and she followed him. The cafe was old; the locals were loudly eating breakfast — greasy and meaty — drinking black coffee, and sometimes even mixed with moonshine. They all seemed to know each other; a young girl ran from table to table. It seemed everyone sitting there recognized Aerion, immediately getting up from their tables for some reason. When Aerion nodded, they sat back down and continued eating and chatting. They approached a table by the window. 'It smelled of smoked meats and… citrus? It was... fresh.' He took the seat by the window, watching her closely as she took a seat across from him. His eyes raked over her figure, lingering on her bare limbs. He raised his eyebrows in amusement at her reaction to the restaurant. “Smells good, don't it, darlin'? Best cafe in town.” He grinned, picking up a menu. “Reckon you'll like the pancakes here — they're sweeter than anythin' they got in the city.”

An old woman with a dirty apron approached the table. 'She looked almost sweet, soft, round, wrinkled, but her eyes were somehow… crazy? Was she the cafe owner or something?' The first thing she looked at was Aerion, like he was a celebrity… or like he was a beloved grandson.

A fond smile formed on his lips as the old woman approached the table. She was like a grandmotherly figure, someone who had known Aerion for years. He straightened up in his seat, greeting the woman. “Mornin', Miss Mary,” he said with a charming drawl. “How ya doin' today?”

The woman laughed at his greeting, her face lighting up. “Oh, I'm as good as ever, honey. And you? Don't you look as handsome as ever.” She glanced curiously toward girl, her gaze flickering over girl's entire figure. “And who's this pretty little thing?” Her eye twitched slightly, and if you looked at her face for long enough, her smile seemed forced or fake.

He chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. He gave a slight nod in her direction. “This is a friend of mine. Thought I'd bring her here for a bite to eat.” His smile never faltered.

The woman's gaze remained focused on her for a moment longer, before she finally tore her gaze away to glance back at Aerion. She nodded approvingly. “Well, isn't that nice? You're a regular gentleman, always bringing a pretty girl to my diner.” She paused for a moment, her eyes flicking over to her again. “Ain't nothin' going on between y'all though, is there? Or… she's… a…– ” The old woman seemed to want to say something, but she glanced at Aerion, as if asking for permission. “No,” he quickly interrupted. “No, she's not a… she's just a friend.”

He shook his head, a smirk forming on his lips. “Just friends. Nothin' more.” The old woman seemed satisfied at his answer, and her smile returned — her gaze still flickering between the both of them. She nodded approvingly. “Well, it's always nice to see young folks enjoyin' themselves. What can I get for you two?”

He glanced down at the menu, his gaze flickering between the breakfast options. “Two orders of pancakes, a side of bacon and eggs, and… an orange juice,” he said, setting the menu down. “And what about ya, darlin'?” He looked at girl, a hint of a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I want some meat… a lot of meat… and black coffee without sugar, please…” SonTeri said without looking at the menu. “Oh, and can I have a slice of orange? Do you have any oranges, miss?” Girl looked up at the old woman and was amazed — 'was she the only one who saw a savage look? Like glass. Like the wax figure in that museum I had visited in Minnesota.'

He watched as she asked for a slice of orange, his smirk growing slightly at her unusual request. The old woman — Miss Mary — blinked slowly at her before responding in a soft but eerily calm voice. “Oh honey, we got oranges.” She said sweetly. Then her gaze flickered toward Aerion again — as if checking to see if he was reacting to this interaction. “We always keep 'em fresh for the special folks who visit here with our ‘prince’.” Her smile was still there, but it looked more strained now — like she was holding back something much darker beneath that polite exterior.

“Thanks?” girl said. The old lady left. It seemed they liked Aerion in this cafe. “One of the parts of the city that favored you?”

He leaned back in his seat, watching the old woman walk away with a smirk. “Yeah. They like me here.” His tone was smug — clearly pleased with how she treated him compared to her. “Told ya I ain't just some random bastard 'round these parts,” he added, picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth. “Folks know my name. And they respect it.”

“Everyone in the cafe stood up when you walked in,” she stated a fact, taking his hat off her head and placing it on her lap. “They don't consider your behavior and your actions… hooliganism?”

He stiffened slightly at her words, his smirk fading into something more guarded. He leaned forward in his seat, resting an elbow on the table. “Hoo-li-gan-ism?” he repeated slowly, as if testing out the word for the first time. “Darlin', you ain't from 'round here. Ain't no one cares how I act — long as I don't cross certain lines.” His gaze darkened slightly — his voice lowering to a rough murmur: “And trust me… they know better than to question me too hard.”

“Are you close with Miss Mary?” she asked, out of curiosity.

He hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating how much to say. Then he shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Miss Mary owns this diner, and my folks used to take me here all the time when I was younger. She'd even let me help out in the kitchen sometimes.” He smirked slightly, as if remembering something. “Reckon the old gal's got quite a soft spot for me.”

“Sounds… cute.” She looked at the young man as he frowned from the sun. 'He looked older. Almost a man.' She tried to imagine him as a little boy. 'He probably looked like Egg.' He chuckled at her response, not softly, but shark, his expression turning amused as he watched her study his face. “Yeah, well… back then, I was just a youngin' runnin' around this place, eatin' pancakes, and causin' all sorts of trouble.” He chuckled as if reminiscing on those days, his voice taking on a fond tone. “Reckon I drove Miss Mary crazy back then, always underfoot and trying to get into the kitchen. But she never minded too much. I was her favorite.”

Miss Mary brought two trays.

He turned his attention to the dishes of food on the trays, his expression brightening at the sight of pancakes. “Thanks, Miss Mary,” he said politely. The old woman gave him a warm smile. “Of course, darlin'. And for the pretty thing,” she added, placing a little plate of orange slices next to the coffee, and a plate of fried meat — probably a cow, a lot. “There you go, honey.” She said it sweetly, but her gaze flicked to Aerion again, her eyes narrowing slightly for a moment before she turned on her heel and shuffled off towards another table.

He began to eat his pancakes, watching the old woman from the corner of his eye as she moved through the cafe. He seemed unbothered by her behavior, more focused on his breakfast. “Damn, these pancakes are just as good as I remember,” he commented, picking up a fork. “She still makes 'em the same way. Best pancakes you'll find.” He glanced up at her, noticing how she was looking at him. “Ain't gonna try one?”

“Oh, no thanks… I eat meat,” she said, in a simple tone, swallowing a piece.

He raised an eyebrow at her refusal, looking slightly surprised. “I said try one. Now.”

She stopped the fork of meat halfway to her mouth, looking up and meeting his blue eyes. “What?”

He looked back at her, his gaze unwavering. “Eat the damn pancake,” he repeated gruffly. “Just one bite. Won't kill ya.”

“Uhm…” SonTeri hesitated slightly, tilting her head. Not understanding why he was so serious. “Okay?”

He watched her with a mix of impatience and something else — almost like he was testing her reaction. When she finally picked up the fork, he leaned back slightly in his seat. “Don't just stare at it, darlin'. Put it in your mouth and eat.” His voice was firm and almost demanding, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Girl cut a piece of his pancake, stained with fried eggs and bacon grease, and put it in her mouth. Chewing. 'Why is Aerion so demanding? Maybe he just wanted me to taste his childhood? And I just refused; my mother raised me differently.' “It's very sweet…” she said, swallowing. “And it tastes like your bacon.”

He watched her as she took a cautious bite — a mix of impatience and surprise on his face. When she finally gave in and took a bite, his expression softened just a bit. “There ya go. Was that so hard?” He leaned back in his seat again, a smirk playing on his lips. “Told ya it's sweet. Miss Mary's got a special way of makin' 'em. No other place in town does it like she can.” He paused. “You need to listen to me, silly.”

Aerion leaned forward again, his amusement fading into seriousness. His gaze locked on hers, almost like he was sizing her up. “I ain't messin' with ya, darlin'. When I tell ya to do somethin'… you listen. Got it?” There was a note of command in his tone now — as if he was testing her, seeing how far he could push her. His tone became almost ‘caring’. “You've been in Texas for a couple of weeks. I was born here. I know what's best. I only want the best for you. Got. It?”

SonTeri looked at his face. 'He seemed… sincere? Maybe friends really do help each other get used.' “Yes… yes, thanks…” She took a sip of black coffee.

Aerion studied her for a long moment, as if trying to see whether or not she meant it. His expression softened slightly — just enough that the sharp edge of command faded into something closer to approval. “Good,” he said gruffly, leaning back in his seat again. “Now drink your damn coffee before it gets cold.” He watched as she took another sip — his smirk returning when he saw her nose wrinkle at the bitterness. He looked oddly pleased with himself now… like he had won some unspoken argument between them.He continued eating while watching her — amused by her reaction to the coffee. The cafe remained relatively quiet, save for the soft hum of conversation and the scraping of forks against plates. “How do you take your coffee usually?” he suddenly asked, his tone curious. “Sweet, full of cream and sugar, like all the other city folk? Bet you've never had it strong and black like a real Texan.”

“I drink black… bitter… Mom says it's bad for me… I know, but I can't stop drinking, even if it harms me.”

“The more dangerous, the tastier, right?” he smiled a dark smile, as if he meant something else. “And I love sugar, cream, real… from our cows.”

“So, you a sweet tooth?” she smiled slightly.

“Somethin' wrong with bein' a sweet tooth?” he retorted, but there was no malice in his tone. He actually looked a bit amused by her question. “And besides,” he added, taking a big bite of pancake, “it just tastes better that way. Why make it damn bitter if you can sweeten it up?”

Everyone around seemed very interested in Aerion. As if he were a local celebrity. Everyone, young and old. And of course, they noticed the girl with him. The one. The visitor. The foreigner, the one with military parents. Even as she sat and enjoyed her meal and conversation with Aerion, she felt Miss Mary's glassy gaze. 'She had wanted to call her something earlier. What exactly?'

There seemed to be a different atmosphere in this cafe. As if it were a hundred times hotter here than outside; sweat was pouring down Aerion's forehead, beads had appeared on her neck. 'It was like an oven in here, or… hell.' The interior of the cafe was ancient, as if nothing had changed since the 1800s. There were some portraits and photographs on the walls. But from here, from their table, she couldn't see anything. The cafe seemed to either squeeze you, or make your head spin. And she didn't know if it was because of the temperature or the atmosphere. Or the looks. Aerion was sitting and already chewing on bacon and eggs. She finished her coffee, and a young girl with unruly red hair — tall, almost like a model, only with freckles and a gap between her teeth — came up to her. Two rounded globes protruded from the specially unbuttoned buttons of her waitress shirt. She offered coffee. But then she saw Aerion. “Oh, Aerion… such people.” Now she looked at her more closely. “Pretty thing… looks like a child, Aerion. I didn't know you were into that kind of thing… you brought her ‘here’. And all I got was the back seat of your red car.” She said with the same Texan accent and country dialect. She offered her more black coffee.

Aerion's head turned automatically at the sound of his name, a small smirk forming on his lips before he turned his attention to the waitress — his gaze sharpening slightly when he realized what she had just said. There was a hint of irritation in his voice when he responded. His tone was gruff and carried a hint of warning. “Don't you have a damn job to do, darlin'?” He grumbled, giving her a sidelong glance. She rolled her eyes at him, but a smirk formed on her lips — like she had seen this all before. “Sure do, darlin'.”

“You know each other?” SonTeri raised her head to the girl, looking from him to her, adjusting her glasses.

The girl nodded, a sly smirk still on her lips as she shot Aerion a knowing look. “Oh yeah, darlin',” she replied, her attention shifting to her. “We go way back, this one and I. Ain't that right, Aerion?”

“I fucked her a couple of times in the car, now she makes an achievement out of it… of course, after work in the cafe.” Aerion just rolled his eyes, casually chewing bacon and drinking orange juice. Looking straight into her black eyes. “Pour her coffee and go.”

The girl's smirk broadened at Aerion's crude phrasing, though she didn't take offense. “Someone's feeling defensive today, huh, sugar?” She playfully flicked her long, messy ponytail over her shoulder, her southern drawl thick and sweet. “What? Didn't get the cute girl with glasses, prince?”

He scoffed, leaning back in his chair as he watched the girl with mild annoyance. “Don't be a smartass,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind it. He took another sip of orange juice before adding, “You got tables to clean or somethin'?”

The girl — clearly used to his dismissive tone — just rolled her eyes and finally poured her a fresh cup of coffee. Her smirk lingered as she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice so only she could hear. “Y'know, sweetie… that boy's got a real nasty temper when he don't get his way.” She straightened up with an innocent hum. “But hey! At least the food's good here!” With that, she sauntered off toward another table — leaving Aerion scowling after her like he wanted to throw something.

SonTeri sat there, confused. 'It was weird. This whole situation and conversation.' “Is she your girlfriend?” she asked.

He snorted, almost choking on his orange juice at the question. “Hell no. That was just a fling — one of many.” His smirk returned as he leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a rough murmur. “You really thought I'd bring ya here if she was? Nah, darlin'. Ain't no one woman got me tied up like that.” There was something possessive in the way he said it — like the idea of anyone claiming him was absurd.

“Fling?... One of many?” girl raised an eyebrow, as if these words surprise her, as if she had not heard about this before.

He grinned lazily at her reaction, amused by the surprise on her face. “Yeah, a damn fling. Like I said, just a fun time… no strings attached. One of many.” He leaned even closer, the smirk on his face growing. “Why, you jealous or something, darlin'?”

“What? Why is this?” Girl pushed her empty plate away, taking a sip of the hot coffee that the red‑haired girl had poured. “The church doesn't really like promiscuity, but I'm your friend. I can't stop you from being with girls…” She looked at him. Now his cowboy hat on her lap felt like it was burning her bare legs in shorts. 'Was it because of the temperature? Or because of something… inside her?'

His smirk faded into a thoughtful expression as her question sank in. There was a hint of surprise in his gaze — like he was expecting a different sort of reaction from her. He leaned back in his seat again, studying her for a moment before speaking. “You ain't jealous, huh?” He repeated, his tone almost challenging. But there was also a hint of curiosity mixed with his arrogance — like he was genuinely wondering why she was being so nonchalant about the topic. “You're sayin' you don't care if I mess around with a bunch of other girls?”

SonTeri just frowned. 'I really don't care? Do I?' “No… It's your choice… Just be careful not to catch anything… And you also need to use protection,” she said in a professorial tone.

He barked a loud, surprised laugh at that — drawing the attention of a few nearby tables. His grin was sharp and amused as he leaned in again. “Protection? Oh, darlin',” he drawled, “That ain't exactly what I'm worried about when I'm with some girl.” His smirk widened as he watched her reaction — clearly enjoying how flustered she was getting over this conversation. “But thanks for the concern. Real sweet of ya to look out for my health like that.”

“Well… we're friends.” It didn't sound as confident as it had in her head. 'Although… what difference does it make to me.' “You date whoever you want… I find boyfriends whoever I want… ‘friends’.”

His gaze narrowed slightly at her response, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly. The amusement in his eyes was replaced almost immediately by irritation — as if her nonchalant attitude was somehow getting under his skin. “Friends, huh?” He echoed, his voice taking on a hint of edge to it now. “And you think it ain't gonna bother me when some guy starts puttin' his hands all over you?”

“Well… no?”

He leaned in closer — close enough that she could smell the orange juice on his breath, close enough that his voice dropped to a rough murmur. “Damn right it'd bother me,” he growled, low and firm. His eyes burned with something possessive — something unspoken but undeniable. “You don't get to just… run off with whoever ya want. Not when I'm around.” There was no teasing now — just pure intensity in his glare as he watched for her reaction.

“What? Why? You're going to be with those… those girls…” She was a little taken aback by his pressure. They were sitting in this strange cafe, there were empty plates on the table in front of them. And only hot coffee in her mug. “But I can't?”

His fingers tightened around his fork — knuckles whitening for a second before he forced himself to relax. The air between them felt thick, charged with something unspoken. “Yeah, I'll be with 'em,” he admitted gruffly. “But that don't mean I want some bastard puttin' his hands on you.” A muscle in his jaw jumped as he leaned back slightly — his glare still locked onto hers. “Ain't fair, darlin'. And we both know it.”

Girl frowned, either from resentment or from misunderstanding. “You are not my father… you are just a friend.”

Aerion's smirk dropped — replaced by something colder, sharper. The air between them felt charged all of a sudden, like the tension before a storm. “Father?” He repeated in disbelief. “Hell no. I ain't your damn daddy.” His voice lowered to a dangerous growl as he leaned in closer — close enough that his breath brushed against her cheek. “I'm the guy who'd burn this whole town down if it meant keepin' ya safe from anyone else's hands but mine.”

“Why are you saying that? Can friends be possessive?” Girl looked into his blue eyes; they seemed to turn purple, his blue eyes mixing with red anger. 'Of course, I knew about his obsession with his dynasty, with fire, with his righteousness… but… what does this have to do with me?' “You're acting wrong.” She just spoke quietly. Having already forgotten about the coffee. It seemed like the entire cafe had pricked up its ears, even if they were still laughing and talking while eating… It seemed like the entire cafe needed to know what she meant to Aerion… whether she was… a –.

Aerion laughed — a sharp, humorless sound. His fingers curled into fists on the table, his knuckles white with tension. “Wrong?” he repeated, voice dripping with venom. “Darlin', you ain't from here. You don't get to tell me what's right or wrong when it comes to you.” The entire diner had gone eerily quiet — even Miss Mary had stopped mid‑step near a booth as she watched them intently. “It's my town. Ya live in my town, darlin'.”

“My land. My rules,” he continued. “And no one gets to put their hands on ya but me. Got it, darlin'? No one.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a barely‑there growl. “Ain't no one else who deserves your time but me… and I'm damn sure no one else deserves to touch you.” The world seemed to hold its breath around them — even the clock on the wall seemed to tick slower as every eye in the diner locked on the two of them.

Girl stared at his face for a long time — strangely eyes... purple. 'Is that the lighting in the cafe? It's pressing on me. The noise of bells in my ears. As if my skull is shrinking, biting into my brain. How can he say such a thing?' And suddenly she just stood up abruptly. Everyone suddenly went quiet. “Go fuck the girls in your town… and I'll decide for myself, Aerion.” SonTeri said, looking at him. She quickly walked to the exit, ignoring people; because of this she didn't see what kind of photos those were. Only his cowboy hat remained on her seat. Aerion hadn't moved… not yet.

The moment she stood, the entire diner froze — forks hovering mid‑air, conversations cutting off like a switched‑off radio. Even Miss Mary's glassy eyes widened slightly as she watched from behind the counter. Aerion didn't move at first — his body rigid in his seat. His jaw clenched so tight it looked painful… and then he moved. His chair screeched against the floor as he lurched to his feet, sending silverware clattering to the ground. The diner held its breath — waiting for him to chase after her. Aerion slowly approached her table, put on his hat. He placed a wad of bills on the table. Approaching the bar where Miss Mary stood, he whispered something in her ear, causing her glassy eyes to widen, seeming alive and glowing for the first time. All the cafe patrons watched intently, as if this was the most important part of their day, as if they wanted to know what the young man was whispering. Miss Mary nodded, and when the young man walked away from her, he called the waitress, quickly relaying the words to her. After that, Aerion left and leisurely exited the establishment, taking one last look at the photographs of his ancestors hanging on the cafe walls. He left the cafe.

𖥸

'This stupid girl can't have gone far. My car is still in the drive‑in. And our houses are not within walking distance. Perhaps to the town center.' He simply walked slowly, following in the traces of her footsteps in the sand.

Aerion slowly continued to walk down the dusty road, his gaze focused on the ground — scrutinizing her footsteps in the sand. As he rounded the corner, he finally spotted her in the distance — almost a mile away from him. He picked up the pace, his steps becoming faster. When she looked back, he was already getting closer to her, his long strides quick and purposeful in the evening twilight… and his face was… blank.

“Running won't help you, darlin'.” Boy said in a low, warning tone. His steps became almost a jog as he kept moving closer, closing the gap between them. His cowboy boots kicked up small clouds of dust with each step.

SonTeri didn't stop. Even after hearing his voice, slippery and almost high‑pitched, soft, playful. It was evening outside, but it was still hot, as hot as a pit, and she felt like the cafe's temperature had stuck to her skin and wouldn't leave her. She walked quickly, the sun baking her legs in shorts. Her top was almost sweaty, her hair loose, and that made it even hotter.

He sprinted the last few feet — closing the distance between them in seconds. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist with bruising force as he yanked her to a stop. “Enough.” His voice was rough, breathless from running — his face inches from hers now. “Ya think I'm just gonna let ya walk away after sayin' that shit to me?” The street was empty except for the two of them… and his grip on her arm wasn't loosening anytime soon.

“Look at me when I'm talkin' to you.” He grumbled, his fingers like a vise around her wrist. He was practically panting from the run, but his voice was still sharp — almost dangerous. “You can't just walk away from me like that, darlin'. Not when you said somethin' like that — in front of my damn café. You don't get to make a fool outta me and just walk away all high 'n mighty.”

“You're evil again… again and again… You warned me, said all these things about blood and fire… but I thought I could fix you. No. I can't. That's it… let go…”, the girl chatters, pursing her lips at the end.

“Evil?” He scoffed, his grip around her wrist not loosening even the slightest. “What did you think, darlin'? That I was just playin' around with ya? That all the warnin's I gave you were just a joke? I ain't someone you can ‘fix’, darlin'.” He paused. “I'm a bad man. I'm a goddamn monster. And I've told you that since the start.”

Aerion moved closer, closing the distance between them… his breath hot and rough as it brushed against her skin. “And yet you still think you can change me. Why, darlin'? Ain't no one been able to change me before you — why do you think you can do somethin' like that?”

“I…” She hesitated. Still angry. And at the same time sad and offended by his words in the cafe. “You're evil… And… I can't communicate with evil people.”, She speaks in a quiet voice, as if thinking as she goes. “But… But I can't live without you… Texas without you is terrible, Aerion.” She admitted. “You're my friend… You help me… I felt like I was in a hole… But…” Girl looked up. “Why do you talk like that, like in the cafe? Why do you forbid me everything?”

Aerion's expression it became easier, not softer, but not angry at her words, his grasp on her wrist loosening slightly. He searched her gaze, his expression torn between something irritation and boredom. “I don't want to forbid you everything, darlin'… but you gotta understand… you're in my territory. My land. My rules. Ain't no one gonna touch you but me, understand?” He paused. “And that ain't ‘evil’. That's just the way things are.”

His fingers moved from her wrist, gently cupping her chin — lifting it up so he could stare right into her eyes. His gaze was deep, almost searching. “It's just my way of protectin' you, darlin'. Don't you get that? Ain't no one gonna lay their damn hands on you but me.”

“Your protection twists me like thorns, Aerion… you are not a rose.” She looked up, as if already naively believing in his ‘protection’, as if it were all ‘for the good’.

“Maybe my protection ain't easy, darlin'. Maybe it ain't all pretty and gentle.” He shrugged, a hint of defiance in his tone. “But it's damn effective, ain't it? Ain't no one dared touch you since I made it clear you belong to me. Ain't that what matters the most?” He cupped her face with both hands now, his touch almost tender as he gently caressed her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I…” She frowned, looking at his face. 'He looked… ‘sincere’?' “I appreciate it…”

Aerion chuckled. «Gently» stroking her soft face with his calloused hands. 'She believed him. Although he's partly right; he's protecting her, in his own way. But there's something else. Something dark. The main thing is that this idiot in glasses believes him and doesn't kick. He's already told his people that SonTeri is ‘She.’'

His smirk deepened as he leaned in, pressing a rough kiss to her forehead — lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with something possessive… something dangerous. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now let's get you home 'fore the sun goes down.” He laced his fingers through hers without another word — leading her back toward town like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like this was where she belonged.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon as they walked — bathing the road and surrounding fields in a warm orange glow. The evening was growing darker. The town's lights glistened in the distance.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

The house was eerily quiet without her parents — no clatter of dishes, no radio chatter, just the hum of the AC. She poured coffee into a mug, hands still shaky from last night. The ranch across the street looked ordinary. Peaceful. It was just her and this gnawing fear that maybe she was losing it.

SonTeri heard the ringing of Aerion's axe in the distance. And Egg's cheerful cries. Mister Maekar had gotten used to Aerion spending the night with her. He said it was a good thing to protect the girls. But her parents didn't know about this yet. They had hardly called from the base. 'Maybe they were very busy?' She took a last look out the window. Her parents would have freaked if they knew she was dating a guy who spent half his time shirtless and swinging tools… let alone one with a tattoo.

As if on cue, she heard a buzzing sound. A walkie‑talkie. SonTeri quickly stood up and grabbed it from the top of the refrigerator, standing on a chair. The antenna was extended.

Girl pressed the button on the walkie — static crackled first, then a familiar voice. "Sontu? You there?" Her mom's voice. Tired but relieved. The signal wasn't perfect — the military base was far, and Texas terrain blocked signals — but it was her. She sounded like she hadn't slept in days. The background noise suggested she was calling from a barracks or break room.

"Mummy!" SonTeri said, not realizing she missed them so much. She hadn't seen them for almost a month. "Stop calling me that!" Girl immediately corrected her, like a naughty teenager hearing a nickname she had known since infancy.

Her mom laughed — a soft, tired sound that made her chest ache. "Sorry, Teri," she said, teasing her back. The way she always did when she corrected her. Then the line went quiet for a second — like she was checking something or turning away from noise. "How are you? Everything okay?" Her voice was careful… motherly instinct kicking in. She sensed something was off.

"I… am coping…" girl spoke more quietly. "I have something to tell you when you and dad arrive." She kept silent about these strange feelings… about these 'inventions' as Aerion said.

Her mom's breath hitched — that tiny, telltale sound parents made when they sensed trouble. "What is it?" she asked gently. Not pushing… just opening the door for her to talk. In the background. SonTeri heard her dad's muffled voice — probably asking who she was talking to. The walkie crackled slightly with interference.

"I…" she hesitated, fiddling with the handle of her mug. "Well, I mean… I think I have a..." "...boyfriend?" SonTeri said it like it was a strange fact, as if it wasn't even about her. "Is Dad there?"

There was a long pause — so long she thought the signal had dropped. Then her mom exhaled, slow and measured. When she spoke again, her voice was careful. "Yes… Daddy's here." A rustle as she presumably handed the walkie to him. A deeper voice took over — her dad. Gruff. Military‑sharp. "Who?"

"Hi, Dad…" she answered, with joy at hearing his voice. SonTeri fidgeted with the cross around her neck. 'Am I a bad daughter?'

Her dad's voice softened — just a little. He could hear the nervousness in her tone. "Hey, kiddo," he said — his version of gentle. Then, businesslike: "Who's the boy?" A simple question… but loaded. Her father had never been easy about his daughter.

"Um…" She suddenly realized that Dad hadn't seen Aerion yet. Only Mom. "Well, that…" 'Aerion is a bit of a problem. God, what was I thinking, they won't like him. They won't like him, right?' "Well, he's Mr. Maekar's son." 'He knows Mr. Maekar, he respects him. He's a businessman, a hard worker, decent, he took me to church. That should soften the parents.' "He has four sons you know..."

Her dad grunted — not in anger, but consideration. Maekar was a well‑respected name around the base. "Maekar's boy…" He repeated it like he was flipping through mental files. "Which one?" There were four sons. 'Aerion — the wildest, most reckless one — wasn't exactly the poster child for "respectable." But her dad didn't know that yet.'"

Aerion…" she said simply. They know I'm friends with him. I talked about him all the time, even when they were here. "He's living with us, is that okay? I felt uneasy… He's helping out." She blurted out all the information at once. The whole truth, as if before a judge or a pastor. Nervously awaiting an answer.

Dead silence on the other end. Too long. Her stomach dropped. Then — her dad cleared his throat. A bad sign. When he finally spoke, his voice was clipped: "He's living there? Alone with you?" A hundred questions burned in that tone — disapproval, suspicion, fatherly panic.

"But I can't be alone in a big house…" she defended herself. "He sleeps on the floor." She tried to soften him up. 'He sleeps on the floor, yes… all these days. He slept. Except for yesterday. Should I keep quiet about the kisses? About how he beat up the guy?' "Dad?…"

Her dad sighed — deep, weary. The sigh of a man who knew teenage logic was flimsy. "Sontu," he started, voice firm, "A grown boy shouldn't be sleeping in the same house as my daughter. Not even on the floor." She could practically hear his military‑brain calculating: Is this kid decent? A predator? Her mom stayed quiet — letting her dad handle it.

SonTeri frowned slightly at his words. 'It's unfair.' "What should I do? I'm scared to be alone. You dumped me in Texas and then abandoned me for three weeks." She suddenly blurted out. But in a calm voice. Tugging at the cross around her neck. An almost childish resentment. To disturb a bird from its nest, only to leave it alone in the middle of the sea. As if, deep down, SonTeri just needed a reason to tell her parents everything. "Aerion is good…"

Her dad froze — stung. The truth hit him like a bullet. He and her mom had to deploy for this mission… but leaving her alone? That guilt flashed in his silence. "I know," he admitted, voice lower now. Regretful. "But Teri… boys ain't the answer." A pause. Then, gruffly: "We're coming home early."

Girl just pursed her lips, instantly feeling guilty for being rude to her parents. "I mean… it's not that bad…" She started hesitating. "Are you arriving early? That's good… I already told Aerion that he needs to meet you." She said, trying to remain calm.

Her dad nodded — even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah. We'll be back in two days." He sounded resolved now. Mission cut short for family reasons — the military understood that. Then, the unspoken tension: He was about to meet Aerion. A guy he didn't know… living in his house with his daughter. A beat of quiet before her mom took the walkie again — her voice gentle, soothing: "We love you, honey."

"Me too." She smiled, hearing them return. A sincere smile of a child. "Don't be mad at Aerion…" She still quietly added. In advance for some reason.

Her mom chuckled — warm, motherly. "We won't be mad," she promised. A lie? Maybe. But she said it to comfort her. Her dad stayed silent on the line — no "I won't" or anything reassuring. Just heavy breathing. The call ended soon after with a staticky click — the signal cutting out as they signed off for now. Two days… They were coming home early because of her.

The house felt lonelier after the call ended — even with the hum of the AC and distant sounds of Aerion working. She stared at her coffee, now cold. 'Two days… until they see him. Until they judge. Aerion would pass their test, right? He's charming when he wants to be… respectful in front of adults…'

She glanced toward the window again — half expecting to see those lights, but there was nothing. Just sunlight glinting off Maekar's ranch roof. Aerion was probably fixing a fence or something. But her stomach churned with nerves. Her parents were coming… and they would scrutinize Aerion like a general inspecting troops.

—

Girl finished her black coffee, without breakfast. And went outside with a jug of water. Walking across the huge dusty road to the house opposite. Again. It was hot outside. She saw a small boy of about eight years old with blond hair near the lawn of the house. 'Looks like Mister Maekar told him to plant flowers, but the boy caught crickets.' "Egg…" she said kindly. They had become friends. 'A nice boy. He swore a lot, well he still was Aerion's brother.' "Hey"

Egg grinned up at her, a cricket wriggling in his grubby fist. "Hey, SonTeri!" he greeted — loud and cheerful. No trace of the quiet intensity Aerion had. "Do you want to see my pets?"

"Yes, of course," she answered sincerely, sitting down next to the boy, looking into the jar. "They won't die?"

Egg shook his head, proud. "Nah! I put air holes in the lid," he said, pointing to tiny pinpricks in the plastic. "They're okay. Just… living." He scooped up a few crickets, letting them crawl over his fingers — like a weird little puppet show.

SonTeri stared at his hand, mesmerized. Her mouth open. They looked like aliens, only tiny. Girl turned her gaze to the fair‑haired boy. With her hand free from the jug, she tugged at his sticking‑out hair. "You'll get sunstroke, where's your hat…"

Egg scrambled — he had forgotten the hat entirely. "Oh, crap," he muttered — then remembered he was supposed to swear in front of adults. He glanced around for witnesses… but it was just her. He darted toward the porch where a straw hat hung on a hook — the kind Maekar made all his kids wear outside.

Egg plopped the hat onto his messy blond hair — it was too big, sliding over one eye. "There," he said, adjusting it dramatically. "Sunstroke‑proof." He looked ridiculously cute. A tiny farmer in training. The crickets continued their alien dance in the jar beside her.

She was holding a pitcher of cool water, sitting next to a boy, looking at the jar. Until the boy asked a question that was oddly serious for a child.

Egg tilted his head, studying her with unexpected solemnity. "SonTeri," he started, voice quieter now, "You really like Aerion?" A simple question… but loaded. Egg was smart for an eight‑year‑old. He noticed things — how Aerion looked at her, how possessive he was.

She was surprised, looking down at Egg. 'Very piercing blue eyes. Egg doesn't get along well with Aerion, I know. I don't know why. Is this normal? I don't know, I don't have brothers.' "What?" Delayed reaction, typical for SonTeri.

Egg fidgeted — suddenly unsure if he should have asked. He poked a cricket with his finger, avoiding her eyes. "I mean…" he mumbled, "Aerion's mean. To me." A confession. Raw and honest from a kid who didn't understand why his big brother hated him. "He's shitty," he added without hesitation, in a hurt voice. "You really don't see? He always hurts me."

She frowned in confusion, clutching the jug tighter. 'Aerion can be like that. But still, he's good to me. Right?' "Aerion says all brothers are like that…"

Egg flinched — like the answer stung. "No," he said firmly, voice cracking, "Not all brothers! Daeron never hits me. Aemon either." Egg looked up at her with a frown. With childish resentment, clutching his large jar, just like she did with the pitcher. "Are you making excuses for him? You're just blinded by his face… He'll hurt you too. He hurts everyone. He's a bastard." The boy said and left with his jar.

SonTeri raised her eyebrows at his words. 'Egg may be right? Almost. But I don't know. How can Aerion hurt such a little one.' "Wait, Egg, I…" she spoke hesitantly, but the boy left.

Egg stormed off — small feet kicking up dust. He didn't look back. Just disappeared into the house, slamming the door behind him. The sudden silence felt heavy.

She walked with a feeling of confusion to the backyard of the ranch, where Aerion was working.

Aerion was bent over, swinging an axe into wood. Sweat dripped down his bare back — tattoo gleaming in the sun. He didn't notice her at first, too focused on his task. Muscles flexing with each swing. The sound of metal hitting wood echoed through the quiet yard.

SonTeri moved closer to him, stepping carefully over the scattered boards. "Hello…"

Aerion paused — axe hovering mid‑air. He turned his head, and the second he saw her, his expression shifted. Not annoyance. Not anger. A slow smirk curled on his lips. "Hey, babe," he said, voice warm but edged with something possessive. He set the axe down and straightened up… towering over her in sweat‑soaked jeans and no shirt.

"I brought water," girl said quietly, holding out the jug; the water had already warmed up. It smelled of wood here, and of sweat from him. But it wasn't disgusting. No.

Aerion took the jug, his calloused fingers brushing hers — a deliberate touch. He unscrewed the cap and drank deeply. Water dripped down his chin, over his chest. "Thanks yer soul, chasty," he muttered — then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hot as hell out here." His eyes flickered over her face… studying her. Searching for something.

Girl sat down on the box, wincing slightly from the sun. "Are you sure you didn't see anything yesterday?" Still, the night lights haunted her. Aerion said she made it up, but she was ready to swear it all happened in real life. She took the empty jug he had handed her.

Aerion's jaw tightened — just for a split second. He stared at her, that unreadable mask sliding back into place. "No," he said flatly. No hesitation. Just cold certainty. Then he reached out, cupping her chin with his rough thumb — tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "You're stressing yourself over nothing."

"Why are you bullying Egg?" girl said quietly. She couldn't imagine him being bullied. "He's a sweet boy…"

Aerion's fingers tensed on her chin — his expression darkening instantly. For a second, something ugly flashed in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by icy indifference. "He talks too much," Aerion said with a shrug. "Kid needs to learn his place." A dismissive answer. Like Egg was just an annoying pest… not a brother.

"But that's not acceptable…" she said quietly, careful not to irritate Aerion.

Aerion leaned in — suddenly, his face was inches from hers. The air turned thick. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You don't get to question how I handle my family." A threat. Not shouted… but quiet and venomous. Like a snake coiling before it strikes. He didn't raise his hand… yet. But the warning was clear. Boy watched her — waiting for her reaction. The silence stretched, heavy with tension. He didn't back down. Didn't apologize. Just held her gaze like a challenge. "Egg will be fine," he added, tone final — as if the discussion was over. Then he turned away… picking the axe back up and resuming his work like nothing happened.

This surprised her, his look. But he spoke confidently. She just chewed her lip, frowning, thinking. 'He's right. I can't decide for others. Right?' Girl clutched the jug, hugging it like a child. The heat glued her hair to her forehead. "My parents called me…" she began, glancing at Aerion. The way his muscles threw back the axe. The way sweat ran down his body. The way he frowned.

Aerion paused mid‑swing at the mention of her parents. The axe hung in the air. He slowly lowered it, turning his head to look at her — eyes sharp with sudden interest. "Oh?" A single syllable. Neutral… but his entire body tensed slightly. "What'd they say?"

"They were just asking about me…" She swung her legs while sitting on the box. "I told them about us… but not about my paranoia… not worth it."

Aerion nodded — relieved, though he would never show it. 'Her parents knowing about them… but not the lights? Not her fear? Good. That keeps things under control.' "They didn't freak out?" he asked casually, wiping sweat off his brow with a forearm. "Most dads would've lost their shit if they knew I was sleeping over."

"My dad seems angry… not at you, at me…" She licked the corner of her mouth. "He'll be okay. You're a good guy."

Aerion smirked — a real, smug grin this time. He liked hearing that. Loved it when she defended him to her dad. "I am a good guy," he said, flexing his biceps for effect — joking but also dead serious. Then he stepped closer, crowding into her space. The scent of sweat and cedar wood surrounded her as he leaned down…

SonTeri just raised her head, feeling the heat from him. She was slightly embarrassed by his biceps, blushing as he approached. The jug stood between them like a wall. "They will arrive in two days… You need to take out your things… And I need to clean up."

Aerion frowned — annoyed at the idea of leaving. He grabbed the jug and set it aside with a thud, eliminating the barrier between them. "Two days?" he muttered. Then, after a beat: "Fine. I'll move my shit." But his hands were already on her waist — pulling her closer despite his irritation.

A chill ran from his hands in inappropriate places. But she didn't pull away. For some reason she didn't want to. "Maybe we should invite you and your father to dinner? It's decent… that's how it's supposed to be. Parents and young people." She said awkwardly, still sitting, raising her head to him and squinting from the sun. "And Egg… and maybe Daeron, if only he's sober."

Aerion considered it — lips pressed thin. Dinner with her parents? A test. Maekar would expect him to behave… and Aerion hated performing. "Sure," he said finally, shrugging. "Egg can come too. Daeron's probably drunk as hell right now." A smirk — he found his brother's alcoholism amusing now.

She frowned slightly, biting her inner cheek. "You won't talk about your fights, will you?..." she began quietly and carefully.

Aerion rolled his eyes — annoyed she was questioning him again. "No, I won't talk about fights," he said flatly. Then, with a hint of sarcasm: "I'll be the perfect gentleman." He leaned down and kissed her forehead — quick, dismissive. A way to shut her up without actually being mean.

Young man straightened up, wiping his hands on his jeans — ready to go back to work. The conversation was over as far as he was concerned. No more questions about Egg, no more paranoia… just dinner plans. He grabbed the axe again and turned toward the fence — dismissing her with his body language. Back to labor.

She clutched the pants, watching it work. She glanced briefly at the forest. She looked at the sky. Everything was different in the daytime.

Aerion slammed the axe one last time — chopping a plank into place. Then he wiped his hands on his jeans and finally looked at her. "Did you tell that 'trunk' about us?"

SonTeri lowered her gaze from looking at the sky and looking up at him. "Ha?"

Aerion squinted at her — impatient. "That boy. What's his name. Dank. Did you tell him we're dating?" He clarified, voice gruff.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh… He's Dunk. No… He didn't call." SonTeri answered quietly, shaking her legs.

Aerion's expression darkened slightly. Remembering what she had clung to when he wasn't around. "I see," he muttered. Then, after a beat: "Tell him."

"What?" She was surprised by his words.

Aerion continued to work with the axe. "Tell him we're together. So he knows not to get any ideas." Possessive. Territorial. Aerion didn't like competition… especially from some soft, wholesome boy her parents probably adored.

"What ideas?" She tilted her head, not understanding what he meant.

Aerion paused, axe hovering, and gave her a look — like she was being intentionally dense. "The idea that he can have you," he said slowly, enunciating each word like it was obvious. "That boy looks at you like a damn puppy."

"He didn't think so. He's my friend and that's it."

Aerion studied her face — searching for lies. He didn't believe her. Or maybe he just wanted to distrust Dunk. "Uh‑huh," he said skeptically, before turning back to the fence. "Still. Tell him." A command, not a request. His tone left no room for argument.

She was still sitting there, thinking. 'Why did Aerion think Dunk was thinking about that? I've never noticed that about him. Really? Although I have trouble noticing that.' She looked at Aerion…

Aerion felt her gaze on him — his shoulders tense under the weight of it. He didn't look back, but he knew she was staring. Overthinking. "What?" he finally snapped, turning his head just enough to glare at her over his shoulder. Impatient. Defensive.

"You're strong…" she just said, shaking her head, trying to forget all the thoughts consuming her — not paranoia, not the lights, not his aggression, not Dunk's. She was here. And she was with him.

Aerion froze at her compliment — just for a second. Then his lips curled into something dangerous. Not quite a smile. More like… satisfaction. "Damn right I am," he said, voice low and smug. "You're lucky to have me." A narcissistic remark — delivered with zero humility. He genuinely believed it too.

Aerion dropped the axe entirely — it landed with a thud in the dirt. In two strides, he was in front of her, bending down to grip her chin. "You're lucky," he repeated — slowly this time, eyes burning into hers. "Lucky I like you. Lucky I put up with your paranoia… lucky I don't just walk away." A twisted version of affection. Manipulative. Conditional love.

Aerion held her chin tighter — just shy of painful. His thumb brushed over her lip, possessive, claiming. "Say it," he demanded softly. A test. "Tell me you know how lucky you are." The air was thick with his control… the unspoken threat that disagreement wasn't an option.

Young girl looked at him with black eyes. His blue was mesmerizing, and his hot hands warmed her, even though they were dirty. "I was lucky… to meet you here in Texas… you protected me." She quietly agreed. Yes, she believed it.

Aerion's eyes flashed — triumphant. He got exactly the answer he wanted. He crushed his lips to hers in a hard kiss, tasting victory. "Fucking right," he growled against her mouth when he pulled back. "I protected you. I keep you safe." A lie wrapped in truth. Yes, he was there… but not out of pure kindness.

She sighed from his lips. Hot. His dirty hands, lost in her hair. She no longer stood like a statue, framing his sharp face with slender fingers. As always, feeling pain, from his tongue and teeth. 'But Aerion said, this was how it should be.'

Aerion bit her lip — sharp, claiming. He didn't kiss gently. He kissed like he owned her… because in his mind, he did. "That's it," he muttered between rough kisses. "You take it so good." Praise twisted into control. Every bruise from his teeth was a brand — proof of possession.

She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to pull away. 'He won't like it. No.' He pulled away himself.

Aerion broke the kiss suddenly — abrupt, like a switch flipped. He stared at her swollen lips, his breathing uneven. Satisfied. "Good girl," he murmured — patting her cheek, condescendingly. Two claps. How farmers spank their best horses. "I gotta finish this. Sit with me."

Aerion grabbed the axe again, turning back to the fence. But now he was more relaxed — content after asserting his dominance. The work resumed, rhythmic and loud. THUNK. THUNK. THUNK. THUNK. He didn't talk. Didn't look at her. Just expected her to stay there… quietly admiring him like a good girlfriend should.

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