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`` Modern Texas AU (Aerion Targaryen). Southern Gothic. ``

(with fem. OC!)

● Description: She moved to Texas expecting nothing but heat and boredom. What she got was Aerion Targaryen – a shirtless, chain-smoking farm boy with a cruel streak and dead blue eyes. He’s a bully, a liar, and exactly the kind of disaster her religious parents warned her about. But when he looks at her like she’s the only real thing in this godforsaken town, she starts to wonder: is he protecting her or collecting her? What follows is a toxic slow burn – unhealthy, obsessive, and impossible to look away from.

Chapter 6 : The River.

(Please read the previous and next chapters in my profile. ♡)

•─────⋅☾ ○ ☽⋅─────•

She walked into her room on the second floor, quietly. She wondered if maybe she should put on a little makeup. It was abnormally hot in Texas, and her parents always said modesty was beauty. And why should she wear makeup to hang out with Dunk? It was just Dunk, after all. Although... maybe... she would just put on some lip gloss. Definitely.

She sat at her vanity, pulling out a small tube of lip gloss — something light and shimmery. It felt silly to wear it for Dunk, but maybe just a little? Her parents’ voice echoed in her head: “Modesty is beauty.” But she wasn’t dressing up for anyone special — just hanging out with an old friend. She swiped the gloss on carefully before glancing in the mirror. Not too flashy… just enough.

She combed out her tangled hair and decided to change — leaving her baggy jeans behind, swapping her loose house t‑shirt for a pink ruffled top. If her parents stayed asleep, maybe she could sneak out without their lectures about being religious and chaste.

She changed into the pink ruffled top — something soft and pretty, not overly revealing but still more effort than she usually put in. The fabric was light, perfect for Texas heat. Her parents’ lectures about modesty flashed through her mind again… but this wasn’t immodest. It was just a cute top. They didn’t have to know. Quietly, she slipped out of her room and down the stairs — praying they were still asleep so she could avoid any questioning looks or sermons about propriety.

Although, she thought, if Dad knew this was in front of Dunk, he’d be happy. She was getting ready. What were they going to do? What did people do in Texas anyway? How did they hang out? She didn’t want to go to the base. She hoped Dunk wasn’t thinking about that.

She glanced around her room, trying to think of what “normal” Texan hangouts looked like. The base was the obvious choice — Dunk probably knew every corner of it — but she really didn’t want to go there. Maybe a drive‑in? A diner? Just sitting on someone’s porch, talking under the Texas sky while cicadas hummed in the heat?

She got ready. She was a city girl after all, and she couldn’t go out looking bad — not in front of Duncan. He seemed to… idolize her? Silly. She sat there a little longer and heard a car pull up. Looking out the window, she saw Duncan’s battered car — not a military one, but his own. He had worked all year in Minnesota to earn it. She quietly went downstairs so as not to wake her parents and left the house.

The car was parked haphazardly in the dirt driveway — clearly Duncan’s first time driving on rough terrain. The engine cut off, and a second later, the passenger door swung open. Dunk stepped out — tall as ever, dressed in simple jeans and a button‑up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked nervous but excited, like an overeager golden retriever spotting its favorite person. He spotted her immediately and broke into that soft smile of his — the one reserved only for her.

“Duncan the Tall,” girl greeted him with his childhood nickname.

Dunk’s face lit up the second she called him that — the nickname he hadn’t heard since childhood. It made his whole expression soften, like a puppy hearing its name.

“Teri!” he said brightly, taking a few quick steps toward her before stopping himself — suddenly remembering to be polite and not just tackle‑hug her like an overexcited kid. He rocked on his heels slightly, hands stuffed in his pockets as he grinned at her with those warm eyes.

“Hi… haven’t seen you for two days… that’s less than usual, yeah,” she said with smile.

Dunk nodded enthusiastically, his smile widening. “Yeah! It felt forever,” he admitted with zero filter — because that was just how Dunk was. If he thought something, it came out of his mouth unfiltered. He shifted on his feet again before gesturing to the car. “I… uh… got this for you. Brought some drinks and snacks from the base commissary.” A peace offering — classic Dunk move. Always thinking ahead about what she might like or need.

“Really?” She was struck by a flash of light. “Oh my god… there’s cola at the base? This place only has some strong yellow soda.” SonTeri chatted casually as usual — like when she was a kid.

Dunk laughed — a soft, boyish sound — as he saw her reaction to the cola. It was like Christmas had come early for her. “Yeah! The good kind too,” he said proudly, already jogging back to the car to pop open the trunk where a cooler sat packed with ice and drinks. He pulled out two bottles of cold cola — condensation dripping down them — and held one out to her with that same sweet smile from when they were kids sharing sodas under picnic tables.

“You’re my hero,” girl laughed slightly, taking the bottle. “My parents are sleeping… They said we should hang out… You know, like before.”

Dunk’s smile grew even wider at her words — like she had just called him a hero and handed him the moon. He popped open his own bottle of cola, taking a small sip before looking around. “Yeah… like before,” he agreed softly, glancing back toward the house to make sure no one had woken up. Then he perked up slightly, an idea forming. “Wanna go for a drive?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know the area well,” she shrugged, looking up at him.

“I know,” a slippery voice came from behind — from the side of the house, the neighbors’ side.

Aerion? He approached slowly, walking across the path to their lawn. He was still sweating from the heat, or maybe he had been working recently. He was wearing a tank top, faded jeans, and pointy boots. Those weren’t definitely work clothes. Did he… change clothes on purpose?

Aerion stopped a few feet away, his sharp eyes flickering between her and Dunk. The tank top clung to his sweat‑damp skin, showing off the defined muscles of his arms and shoulders — definitely not work clothes. He had changed just for this. He nodded at Dunk with cold politeness — the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey.”

Then he looked at her, expression unreadable… but there was something intense in the way he studied her outfit, her makeup… everything about her right now.

The guy was definitely shorter than Dunk. Gods, the whole world was definitely shorter than this two‑meter giant.

“Um… right,” she said. “Dunk, this is Aerion, our neighbor and — ” She remembered and quickly added, “ — my new friend here. Aerion, this is Dunk, a family friend… he… serves with my parents.”

Aerion’s jaw twitched slightly as he took in Dunk’s towering height — the guy was massive compared to him. It made something primal and irritated flare up inside him, but he kept his face neutral.

“Family friend,” he repeated slowly, voice flat as he looked Dunk up and down.

Dunk — ever the polite one — extended a hand with an easy smile. “Hey, man. Nice to meet ya.”

Aerion stared at the outstretched hand for half a second too long before finally shaking it… loosely… like it physically pained him to be civil.

“Cool… two of my friends know each other,” she just pursed her lips, smeared with gloss, smiling awkwardly. “Do you need something, Aerion?” she asked politely. 'Well, maybe he wanted to ask for salt, that’s why he came over. Who knew'.

Aerion’s gaze dropped to her glossy lips, her pink cute ruffled top for a split second — annoyed that she was dressed up like this for Dunk — before he schooled his expression back into cool indifference.

“Nah,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “Just saw y’all outside. Thought I’d say hi.” Liar. He was absolutely not just saying hi — he came over to size Dunk up, and now that he had… well, the verdict wasn’t good in his mind. “And… I’m going with you,” he said in a carefree tone.

“What?” She was a little surprised by his self‑proclamation.

Aerion squinted slightly at her outfit. He clearly remembered that she had looked… simpler before. The rays of the Texas sun fell on her exposed parts — not like a slut, but more open than usual.

Aerion’s gaze lingered on her exposed collarbones, the way the ruffled pink fabric draped over her shoulders — too pretty, too nice for a casual hangout. It pissed him off that she had dressed up like this… for Dunk. Without thinking, he reached out and flicked one of the lace ruffles on her sleeve with his finger — almost mocking.

“Fancy,” he muttered under his breath before turning to Dunk again, jaw set stubbornly.

“Um… thanks?” she said with a slightly embarrassed smile — at his words, not his touch. She was used to touch. “Um… you said you wanted to come with us?” No, he had said he was going with them.

Aerion nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. I’m bored,” he said with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Um… Dunk?” she said, raising his black bean-shaped eyes to the tall guy, either asking for help or asking for a favor.

Dunk seemed annoyed by Aerion and his selfishness. His usually soft, easygoing expression tightened — just slightly. The polite smile on his face dimmed, and there was a new edge to his gaze as he looked at Aerion.

“Uh… yeah,” he said slowly, voice losing some of its warmth for the first time since arriving. “But I kinda had plans with Teri.” The air between them shifted subtly — tense now. Dunk wasn’t aggressive by nature… but even golden retrievers could growl if provoked enough.

Aerion’s eye twitched when Dunk said her name — Teri, not fully SonTeri.

“Yes, Aerion, I’m sorry… but — ” she started, turning his eyes to the other guy, nodding almost meekly at Dunk's words.

Aerion cut her off before she could even finish, his expression darkening further. The way Dunk said her name — Teri, not SonTeri — like it was some kind of nickname only he got to use… it made something snap in him.

“Nah,” he interrupted, voice low and final. “I’m comin’.”

It was not a request. It was a declaration — and the tone left no room for argument. He turned toward Dunk with a stare that could melt steel.

“I think… it’ll be more fun with three of us… right, Dunk?” She fidgeted awkwardly. She wouldn’t want her two friends to quarrel. Aerion was acting like he always did. She could put up with that, but Dunk didn’t have to.

Dunk hesitated — clearly not thrilled about the idea, but he was too nice to say no outright. He glanced at her, then back at Aerion… and sighed internally.

“Yeah… sure,” he forced a polite smile. “More the merrier.”

Aerion smirked — victorious. He hadn’t even had to argue; her desperation for peace had done it for him. Now Dunk was stuck with him tagging along on their plans whether he liked it or not.

“Thanks, Dunk,” she patted his hand lightly and smiled awkwardly.

Dunk’s hand flexed slightly under her touch — warm and calloused from military training. He gave her a small, grateful smile back, even though he was clearly not happy about Aerion intruding.

Aerion watched the interaction with narrowed eyes — the way Dunk softened just for her. It made his stomach twist in something ugly… jealousy? Possessiveness? He didn’t like it.

“Let’s go then,” he said abruptly, already walking toward Dunk’s car without waiting for either of them.

Dunk sighed quietly, shooting her an apologetic glance as Aerion strode ahead like he owned the place. The tension was palpable — thick enough to cut with a knife. He held the passenger door open for her first — always a gentleman — but when Aerion reached for the backseat door without asking, Dunk’s jaw tightened just slightly. It was his car… and this guy was acting like it belonged to him too.

They got in, and Dunk drove out of their area. The road was uneven and dirt. It was a good thing she had left a note for her parents — a note because there was no signal and the text message wouldn’t have gotten through — so they wouldn’t worry when they woke up. She had also made them some sandwiches for snacks.

“So… Aerion, you said you knew where we could go?” She turned her head from the front seat to the back, where Aerion was sprawled across all three seats, without a seatbelt, of course. Oh, and it seemed he had already opened the stash of food Dunk had bought for them both.

Aerion lounged in the backseat like a lazy king, one arm draped over the empty space beside him. He had already ripped open Dunk’s cooler and grabbed chips — taking a huge bite without so much as looking at Dunk for permission. At her question, he chewed slowly before swallowing.

“There’s an old swimming hole ’bout twenty minutes from here,” he said casually, crumbs dusting his tank top.

Dunk’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. That spot was private… and Aerion had just claimed it like it was his idea all along.

“Lake? Or river?” she asked, becoming interested.

Aerion grinned, clearly enjoying himself — both the food and the fact that Dunk was visibly irritated. “River,” he said with a lazy shrug. “It’s shallow but deep enough to swim. My dad used to take me there when I was a kid.”

“How cute,” she smiled slightly.

Aerion’s smirk softened — just a fraction — at her small smile. It was the closest thing to approval he had gotten from her since Dunk showed up, and it did something weird to his chest. Dunk glanced in the rearview mirror, catching that tiny moment of… whatever that was between the two of them. His stomach dropped slightly.

The car rumbled over the dirt road, the silence inside tense. Dunk kept his eyes on the road, but he was hyper‑aware of Aerion in the backseat — eating his food, sprawled out like a territorial cat. Aerion leaned forward suddenly between their seats — the scent of salt and chips clinging to him — and pointed ahead.

“Turn left at that oak tree up there.”

Dunk nodded stiffly and followed instructions… even though it pissed him off to be taking orders from this guy.

Dunk made the turn, tires crunching on gravel as the oak tree whizzed by. The road got even rougher — the kind of terrain that made a civilian car shudder. A few minutes later, they spotted it: a narrow dirt path leading down to the riverbank. The water glimmered under the Texas sun, clear and inviting despite its shallow depth.

Aerion perked up instantly — like a predator spotting prey. “There it is.”

・❥・

They stopped and got out. Since they hadn’t prepared for the trip, they only had food and drinks with them — no blanket, no swimming trunks.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful here,” she said, looking around at the green trees and grass, the blue river. Under the Texas sun, everything seemed like something out of a movie. The sun‑dried grass crunched underfoot, and the river quietly twittered as it ran.

Aerion hopped out first, stretching his arms overhead with a satisfied groan. The heat pressed down, but the river looked cool and refreshing — perfect for swimming. Dunk grabbed the cooler from the backseat, setting it carefully on a flat rock near shore. He wiped sweat from his brow and took in the scenery too — it was beautiful, peaceful in a way that made you forget about base life for once. Aerion kicked off his boots without hesitation.

Aerion peeled off his tank top next, tossing it onto the rock beside Dunk’s cooler. His torso was lean and toned from ranch work — sun‑kissed and dusty. Without a word, he started unbuttoning his jeans, clearly planning to swim in just his boxers. Dunk blinked, suddenly self‑conscious. He hadn’t brought trunks either, but he wasn’t about to strip down like that. Instead, he awkwardly sat on a boulder by the water — content to just watch for now.

She glanced at Aerion, slightly averting her eyes. Just a little. She had never seen men in underwear, although what difference did it make from swim trunks? She sat down next to Dunk on a stone, so hot you could burn your bottom.

Aerion didn’t seem to care about modesty — he stripped down without hesitation, leaving him in just his black boxers. They were simple, athletic, and definitely not swim trunks. Dunk stayed fully dressed beside her on the hot rock — his military‑trained posture making him sit stiffly despite the heat. Aerion waded into the water with zero shame, gasping as the cool river hit his skin. “Ahhh… that’s good.”

She looked at Aerion in the water and laughed softly at him. He just didn’t care. He was a regular Southerner, regular Aerion. “Is the water hot? I think it boiled because of the sun… what if you turn red as a lobster?” she told him slightly jokingly.

Aerion splashed water onto his shoulders, shaking his head with a wild grin. “Nah, it’s perfect,” he called back, voice loud over the river’s babble. “You city girls got weak skin or somethin’?” He dunked underwater for a second, letting the coolness soothe him, then resurfaced, running wet hands through his hair. His cheeks were already pink from the sun, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Dunk finally cracked a small smile at her teasing — Aerion really did look like a lobster baking in the sun. But he stayed put, still not comfortable with stripping down. Aerion, meanwhile, paddled closer to shore and leaned his elbows on a smooth river rock — dripping wet and completely unbothered by his near‑nakedness. “Y’all comin’ in or what?” he challenged, tilting his head at them both.

“Um… I don’t want to take my clothes off,” she said. “Dunk can.”

Dunk nodded quickly, relieved that she wasn’t stripping down either. He stood up. “Of course,” he said and started to undress. He was a military cadet; he had washed naked with thirty guys every day since he was fourteen, and he had been friends with her for a long time, so he shouldn’t be embarrassed. He was very tall and very strong; red freckles of different sizes were scattered all over his body. Red hair and blue eyes glowed in the sun. Dunk jumped into the water, splashing at her.

Dunk’s splash hit her square in the face — cold river water mixing with Texas heat. He laughed, a loud, unfiltered sound as he surfaced. Aerion watched Dunk swim with sharp eyes — taking in his strength, his freckled skin, the way water clung to him. There was something about how effortlessly natural Dunk was that pissed Aerion off. Without warning, Aerion dived under and popped up right beside Dunk — splashing him back even harder.

Dunk got a face full of water — hard — and sputtered, blinking rapidly. He hadn’t expected Aerion to retaliate like that. Aerion grinned, wild and competitive now. This wasn’t just swimming anymore — it was a challenge. He shoved Dunk playfully, too hard, with his shoulder. The river rippled between them as the two towering guys squared off, tension crackling under the surface of their little splash fight.

She got up from the hot rock and approached the shore. They seemed to have made peace with each other, but there was something passive‑aggressive about their «battle».

“Are you fighting there?” she asked naively, carefully approaching the wet rocks in her sneakers, the long, baggy legs of her jeans constantly getting in her way.

Aerion and Dunk paused mid‑shove, turning to look at her. Aerion was still grinning — all teeth — but there was something sharp in his gaze when he saw her stepping closer.

“Nah,” Dunk said quickly, wiping water from his face with a sheepish smile. “Just playin’.”

Aerion didn’t say anything. Instead, he waded over toward the shallows where her sneakers were getting wet, and without asking, grabbed one of her ankles — not roughly, but firmly — and tugged.

Aerion pulled her forward with surprising strength. Her balance wavered, and before she could react, her sneaker‑clad foot slipped on the wet rock. Dunk’s eyes widened in alarm as he lurched to catch her — too late. SPLASH. She hit the water hard, jeans and all. The river wasn’t deep, but it was cold enough to shock her system. Aerion blinked down at her like a cat that had just knocked something off a table.

She let out a small cry of surprise, and there she was in the water, in jeans and sneakers. Her hair was wet and falling over her face, her pink top wet and stuck to her skin. She grabbed Aerion’s bicep, squeezing. “Aerion! My clothes are wet.”

Aerion just grinned widely, showing dragon teeth. His gaze fell a couple of times on the wet pink top — well, maybe more than a couple. “What? Did ya want to grow old on the shore, darlin’?” He appreciated how she squeezed his bicep and almost pressed herself against him. “Why ya clutching like that? Are ya afraid of river snakes?”

“No… no… it’s just — ” She didn’t let go of him, swimming closer. “I’m not a good swimmer.” She lightly bit her lower lip, while Dunk just looked at her, like a childhood friend, worriedly. “Are there snakes here?” she asked naively, swimming even closer and looking at the water.

Aerion’s grin sharpened at her confession. He rolled his eyes. 'Of course that fool little girl was a bad swimmer, she was so weak'. Instead, his arm wrapped around her waist automatically, steadying her in the water. “Nah,” he said teasingly. “No snakes here.”

Dunk watched the scene with quiet concern from a few feet away — not interfering but clearly ready to help if needed. The way Aerion was holding her — protective? Possessive? Useless? It was hard to tell.

They continued swimming and splashing. Of course, the two guys were just hiding their passive aggression toward each other. She occasionally grabbed their hands while swimming, and it was suspicious that Aerion was the one who always ended up there with the wild splashing. Dunk just clenched his jaw. She was still in wet clothes clinging to her. She had taken off her sneakers and socks, leaving them on the shore.

Aerion loved the way she clung to him — her wet hands gripping his, her body brushing against his in the water. It made something possessive and smug flare up inside him. Dunk noticed it too — the way Aerion kept maneuvering closer to her during their splashes, using them as an excuse. Dunk’s jaw stayed clenched, but he forced himself not to react. At one point, Aerion “accidentally” shoved Dunk underwater with a splash — hard enough that it took a second for Dunk to resurface, sputtering.

“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly, of course not noticing what Aerion had done. “There are no snakes at the bottom?”

Dunk surfaced, coughing slightly but nodding. He glared at Aerion for half a second — that was absolutely on purpose — but he was too polite to call him out in front of her. “Yeah,” he rasped, wiping water from his face. “I’m fine.” The «no snakes» question was so adorably naive that it softened him despite the annoyance. Aerion just smirked innocently, floating beside her like an angel who would never do something mean. His arm slid around her shoulders again as if nothing had happened.

Dunk finally decided to fight back — subtly. When Aerion wasn’t looking, he swam up behind him and gave a sudden, firm shove to his shoulders. SPLASH. Aerion went under with a yelp — completely unprepared for Dunk’s retaliation. The water wasn’t deep, but the surprise attack was effective. Dunk floated there calmly after, pretending nothing had happened, though his lips twitched slightly in satisfaction.

Aerion resurfaced with a furious gasp, water dripping from his hair. His expression was pure outrage — how dare Dunk shove him?! For a split second, Aerion looked like he was about to lunge at Dunk and actually fight — no more passive‑aggressive splashes.

She surfaced slightly, not seeing anything. “Are you hungry? Let’s go eat now? My clothes are wet.”, She says, wiping her wet face.

Aerion’s murderous glare at Dunk faded slightly as she asked about food. He was hungry, and the cooler was sitting right there on shore — untouched since they got in. “Yeah,” he muttered, swimming toward land with long strokes. Dunk followed more calmly, glad for the distraction. Maybe eating would cool things down — literally and figuratively.

They swam away, forgetting about her, and she had to barely swim, then trek across the wet rocks. Water ran down her wet, baggy jeans. Although, because they were stuck to her legs, you probably couldn’t call them baggy anymore. She walked up to them, who were sitting by the large rocks. She sat down next to Dunk. Both guys were still in their underwear. She was soaking wet, like a duckling in the rain; her jeans were heavy with water, and her top was stuck to her shoulders and chest, so much so that you could even see the outline of a cross. But in Texas, even that wouldn’t save you from the hellish heat — at least things dried faster.

Aerion rummaged through Dunk’s cooler, pulling out sandwiches and drinks without asking. He tossed one to Dunk — not aggressively, but not friendly either — then grabbed two for himself. Dunk unwrapped his sandwich quietly, sneaking glances at her. Her clothes clung awkwardly, and the Texas sun was already starting to dry them, but slowly. Aerion eyed her soaked state too — his gaze lingering on the outline of her cross under the wet fabric.

They started eating snacks in silence. Dunk and Aerion weren’t talking, so she was the one doing the talking. She filled the silence with small talk — commenting on how good Dunk’s sandwiches tasted, asking Aerion if he came to this spot often. They both responded in short answers. Dunk was a polite listener, nodding and adding quiet remarks when appropriate. But Aerion? He chewed aggressively, his eyes darting between her and Dunk like he was calculating something. The tension wasn’t hostile, but it was there — like two bulls circling each other over territory.

She fidgeted slightly due to the discomfort of her wet clothes clinging to her while she chewed on her sandwich. This view evoked certain sensations in both guys.

Aerion’s gaze kept flicking to her — the way her wet top clung, the curve of her shoulders, how small she looked next to Dunk. It stirred something in him, something hot and restless. Dunk noticed too — though he tried not to stare. He was a gentleman through and through, so he kept his eyes respectfully on his food, but there was a slight tension in his jaw as he chewed. The air between them was charged — not just with rivalry anymore.

Aerion finished his sandwich first, crumpling the wrapper loudly. He leaned back on his elbows, stretching out like a lazy predator in the sun. Dunk was still eating carefully — methodical. But he kept sneaking looks at her when he thought no one was noticing, checking if she was cold or uncomfortable. The silence stretched again — heavy with unspoken things. Aerion broke it by suddenly sitting up and reaching for her half‑finished sandwich.

Aerion plucked the sandwich right out of her hand — without asking — and took a huge bite. It wasn’t hostile, just possessive. Like he had every right to finish what she had started. Dunk’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the bold move. That was her food, and Aerion had just stolen it like it belonged to him. Aerion chewed with his eyes locked on Dunk, almost daring him to say something about it.

Dunk’s polite mask cracked — just a little. His grip tightened on his own sandwich wrapper, and there was a flash of irritation in his blue eyes. But he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t — Aerion was being an obnoxious jerk, but confronting him would escalate things, and Dunk wasn’t the type to start fights. Aerion smirked around the stolen bite of her food — victorious. The silent power play made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

She just kept eating her sandwich, taking bites where Aerion had. You had to share with your neighbors — that was what they said in church. Noticing the tension, she continued chatting to fill the tense silence. “…Tony Stark caught the bomb and then…” She talked about stupid things. “…well, it was cool, tell him, Aerion… we watched that movie together… well, at night too…” Then she fell silent. Could she tell Dunk about this? Dunk was her friend, of course, but he was practically her father’s secret agent.

Aerion didn’t respond right away, slightly distracted by her bite on top of his previous one. In his sick head, it was almost a kiss. No — belonging to him. Merging. Remembering the night of the movie, he just smirked, baring his upper teeth; he was willing to bet that she hadn’t experienced this with Dunk. Night, dinner, a movie, alone at home — she hadn’t let Dunk press against her, touch her knees, or touch her hair.

Aerion’s smirk grew dangerous — the kind that made his eyes glint with something darkly possessive. That night replayed in his mind: she curled on the couch, him beside her, the quiet intimacy of shared popcorn and whispered reactions to the movie. Dunk had never had moments like that with her. No late‑night movies. No accidental brushes of hands. That knowledge made Aerion feel superior, like he had won some unspoken competition Dunk didn’t even know they were in.

Dunk, oblivious to Aerion’s internal smugness, listened intently as she started explaining the movie plot. He nodded along — genuinely interested in what she was saying because she was saying it. Aerion watched Dunk’s face — the way he leaned slightly toward her when she talked. It pissed him off that this guy was so damn nice, so attentive. Without thinking, Aerion abruptly cut in: “We had popcorn.”

Dunk blinked, thrown by Aerion’s random interruption. Popcorn? That was the most trivial detail to bring up. But she remembered — the big bowl of buttery popcorn between them on the couch that night, how Aerion kept stealing handfuls even when it was her turn. Aerion kept his gaze fixed on Dunk, challenging him silently: You ever had a moment like that with her? His tone made it clear he thought not.

Dunk’s ears perked up. A movie… at night… with him. “You invited him over at night? Do your parents know about this?” Dunk and his close relationship with Mr. and Mrs. Bardot — he was practically their adopted son.

“Well… yeah…” she already realized she shouldn’t have said that. Dunk was a good friend, but he was like an extension of her parents — their favorite family friend. “It was a friendly thing… I know Dad won’t like it, but I was so scared alone at night… don’t tell my parents, Dunk.”

Dunk’s expression shifted instantly — from friendly to concerned father‑figure mode. His blue eyes darkened slightly, and he sat up straighter. “Teri…” His voice was gentle but firm — the same tone he used when her dad scolded her for sneaking out past curfew. “You know I can’t keep stuff like that from them. Your parents trust me.” Aerion watched this exchange with narrowed eyes, suddenly realizing how deep Dunk’s connection to her family really went.

“Well, right now I’m sitting with two guys who are in their underwear… will they like this? I’m always doing something wrong… they won’t die if they don’t know.” She rolled her eyes at first, then mentally apologized to God for saying such things about her parents. “Well… I mean… you know, Dunk, they can be strict sometimes.”

Dunk sighed, rubbing his temple. He hated being put in this position — her parents were basically his second family, and lying to them felt wrong. “Teri… I’m not gonna snitch on you for hanging out,” he said carefully. “But if your dad asks me straight‑up? I can’t lie.” Aerion stayed silent for once — watching Dunk with a new wariness. The guy wasn’t just some random friend; he was practically family to her.

She looked into his piercing blue eyes. They had a showdown in front of Aerion — so awkward. “Well, of course… if he finds out.” She smiled slightly, pursing her lips, and patted his bare shoulder. It was hot from the sun and seemed to have turned pink from the tan. These guys were still naked.

Dunk’s shoulder tensed slightly under her touch — not because he minded, but because the contact felt intimate in front of Aerion. The pink flush on his skin wasn’t just from the sun; it was a light blush. Aerion saw that. His jaw clenched. The silence stretched again — thick with something unspoken. Dunk pulled his arm back slowly, suddenly hyper‑aware of how little clothing they were all wearing and how close she was to him compared to Aerion.

“…Well, we watched The Avengers, then half of the second part, then the movie with Jim Carrey…” Girl continued the conversation and chattered. She loved to chat, especially about things she liked. “…That movie was funny… until Aerion started asking about — ” She hesitated a little at the end, remembering that night. “…I mean… then he left.”

Dunk’s eyes sharpened at her near‑slip — then he left. The implication was obvious: that night hadn’t ended well. Did they have a fight? Did he leave because of something awkward? Aerion tensed at the memory. That night had ended awkwardly — after Jim Carrey’s movie, he had asked her something too personal, maybe too forward. And when she hadn’t reacted how he wanted, he got upset and stormed out. Now Dunk was looking between them like a detective piecing together clues. The air felt heavier — charged with the weight of that unresolved moment from two days ago.

They continued sitting. Her clothes were starting to dry. The Texas heat wasn’t kind to the pale skin of both boys, and they were turning red. She threw awkward glances at Aerion, who was sitting casually as usual with his legs splayed. He was still in his boxers. SonTeri tried to remember her parents’ words about chastity, but…Aerion caught her glances — and liked them. The way she kept looking at him, even with that guilty tension about chastity, made his chest puff up. He knew she was looking at him. The way he was lounging, all lazy confidence and bare skin, was deliberate. Dunk, meanwhile, shifted uncomfortably under the heat. His freckled shoulders were turning pink from sunburn — military training had never prepared him for Texas summers. He grabbed a water bottle to cool off. Dunk was angry, for some reason. He had been trying to get her attention his whole life. And now, of the two naked, muscular guys, she only glanced at the one who was a farmer. How long had they known each other? Three days? Dunk didn’t know what was burning inside him, but he tried not to pout so she wouldn’t notice.

Aerion, oblivious to Dunk’s internal turmoil, leaned back further — stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied groan. The movement made the muscles in his torso flex, and yes, he was doing it on purpose. Dunk pointedly looked away when she glanced at Aerion again. He unscrewed the water bottle too aggressively, taking a long swig just to have something to do. The sun kept beating down. The river glittered. And the tension between all three of them was palpable — thick enough that even birds had stopped chirping nearby.

“Is it hot in Texas?” she said naively but seriously. “Do you think if I asked the likes of Reverend Tom if it’s hot in hell, how angry would he be?” She gathered her hair with one hand to wave the other at herself. She tore her gaze away from Aerion and continued the mundane conversation. She glanced briefly at Duncan. At least both guys were naked — it was easier for them.

Dunk snorted at her joke — the first real laugh he had had since they got here. The idea of Pastor Tom getting riled up over hell’s weather was too accurate. “Yeah, it’d be funny,” he admitted, voice warm with amusement. Aerion wasn’t laughing. He was frowning because she was looking at Dunk now — not him. And the way Dunk smiled so easily annoyed him for some reason. The heat wasn’t just from the sun anymore — it was coming off all three of them in waves: awkwardness, tension, rivalry, and something else neither guy wanted to name yet.

Dunk’s smile faded slightly as the conversation lulled again. The silence wasn’t comfortable — it was heavy, like a storm about to break. Aerion, bored of sitting still, suddenly stood up. Water dripped from his body onto the hot rocks below. Without warning, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet too — his grip firm but not rough. “Let’s swim again,” he declared — more an order than an invitation.

“Again?” She stood up, slightly surprised, not so much by herself but rather because she had been lifted. She cast a confused glance at the sitting Dunk. “But my clothes had only just dried…”

Aerion didn’t care about her dry clothes. The moment she was on her feet, he started dragging her toward the water — determined. “Then take it off, stupid.”, he says with irritation.

Dunk watched, eyebrows shooting up as Aerion manhandled her toward the river. The sheer boldness of it — the way Aerion just grabbed and pulled — made Dunk’s stomach twist. Aerion wasn’t asking. He was taking what he wanted. She stumbled slightly in her half‑dried jeans, but he didn’t slow down until they were at the water’s edge — then he shoved her in with zero ceremony.

Dunk immediately stood up, abruptly, in a defensive tempo — just like in childhood.

Dunk moved fast — military reflexes kicking in. In one fluid motion, he was on his feet and striding toward the water, eyes locked on Aerion. There was a protective fire in Dunk’s gaze that hadn’t been there before — something fierce and old, like when they were kids and he used to punch bullies for picking on her. Aerion turned just as Dunk reached him; their shoulders almost touching. The air crackled with confrontation.

She emerged from the water coughing slightly. Her clothes, half‑dried in the heat of the sun, were wet again. Her hair was stuck to her face. She straightened up slightly in the water and looked up at the guys who were still standing on the riverbank. They seemed angry? Gods, they were arguing again. “That was a little rude, Aerion,” she said naively, with reproach but not malice — just like her parents had taught her.

Aerion whirled toward her, his face twisting with irritation — not at her, but at the fact that Dunk was glaring holes into him. “Rude? It’s just swimming,” he snapped, voice sharper than intended. The possessive edge in it was obvious — he thought he could do whatever he wanted to her. Dunk stepped between them like a human shield, arms crossed. His military posture made him look even taller and more intimidating up close. “You don’t shove people into water like that.”

“I don’t think Aerion meant it that way… just…” She splashed around in the water, barely holding herself together. She smiled, pursing her lips, smoothing things over.Her attempt to defuse things worked — sort of. Dunk’s rigid posture loosened slightly, and Aerion’s scowl lessened, but the tension didn’t vanish. Aerion waded into the water toward her, ignoring Dunk entirely. He stopped right in front of her, close enough that his chest almost brushed hers. Dunk watched from shore like a sentinel — arms still crossed, jaw tight. He didn’t like how close Aerion was, and he knew her dad wouldn’t like it either. “Sorry, hon,” Aerion spoke in a rough, hoarse voice. Of course, there was no sincerity, but this poor wretch wouldn’t be able to distinguish Aerion’s shadow from himself.

She immediately grabbed Aerion’s hand, of course almost not noticing that he was holding on tight and too close — she thought it was because of the current.

She grabbed him with both hands and held him. “Of course… it’s just… I’m not a good swimmer, Aerion… you were wrong.”

Aerion’s grip tightened around her hands — too tight, really. He wasn’t used to being scolded, especially not by her, and it showed in the way his jaw clenched. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he stared down at her, those wild dragon eyes searching her face for something. “’Course, darlin’,” he said, almost rolling his eyes but holding back, brushing away a wet black strand of hair stuck to her face with his fingers. Dunk was fuming. The possessive way Aerion was holding her — the closeness — made his blood boil. But he stayed rooted on shore, refusing to intervene unless absolutely necessary.

Dunk finally broke. He stomped into the water — splashing loudly — and without a word, stepped between her and Aerion, physically inserting himself into her space. “Hey,” he said to Aerion, voice low but firm. It wasn’t hostile yet, but it was a clear boundary: back off. Aerion’s eyes flashed with outrage at being cut off from her like this.

Aerion’s face darkened. No one interrupted him — especially not some military boy with a hero complex. For a second, it looked like Aerion might shove Dunk right back, but then he just sneered and deliberately raised his voice: “You her bodyguard or somethin’, Dunky?” The nickname was mocking, dripping with condescension. The tension skyrocketed — this wasn’t playful anymore.

She was too busy to pay attention to the guys right now. Being pulled away from Aerion’s grip, she grabbed Dunk’s hand. She wasn’t particularly planning on drowning today.

Dunk’s hand was warm and calloused — military hands, strong from training. The moment she grabbed it, he immediately turned his full attention to her, ignoring Aerion completely. “Okay?” he asked quietly, scanning her face for any sign of distress. His protective instincts were in overdrive now. Aerion watched this exchange with pure disbelief — how dare Dunk just steal her like that? Like it was nothing? Like Aerion wasn’t even there?

“I’m wet again… well… are we going to swim?” She finally noticed the tension. “You don’t like each other, do you?… I guess not all my friends can be friends.”

Dunk exhaled through his nose — almost a sigh. He didn’t hate Aerion, but no, they weren’t friends. The guy was loud, reckless, and treated her like a prize to win. “Yeah… we swim,” he said neutrally — trying to keep things civil for her sake. Aerion scoffed at the question about friendships. His pride wouldn’t let him admit that Dunk wasn’t his rival… but something worse: competition. Without another word, he dived into the water dramatically — a splash meant to show off.

They continued swimming, but passive‑aggressiveness hung in the air. She swam poorly, so they held her up.

Dunk was the first to notice her struggling. Without hesitation, he swam up behind her and gently hooked an arm around her waist — steadying her in the water. “Easy,” he murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. He was used to helping rookies swim at boot camp; this was second nature. Aerion watched from a few feet away, irritation flaring when Dunk touched her so naturally, so protectively. Jealousy clawed at him.

Aerion, not to be outdone, paddled over too. He grabbed her other side — rougher than Dunk — and started dragging her through the water with zero finesse. “Just kick,” he ordered, his version of “helping” more about showing off his strength than actually teaching her. The contrast was obvious: Dunk’s patient guidance versus Aerion’s aggressive coaching. It was like two completely different worlds colliding in this river.

“If there are snakes in this river, will they have fins?” She talked nonsense, ignoring their behavior. She understood. After today, she would never put them together again.

Dunk actually laughed — a real, full laugh at her random snake‑fin question. It was a warm sound, lightening the mood despite everything. “Snakes don’t have fins,” he said gently, still holding her steady in the water. Aerion didn’t laugh. He thought her nonsense was dumb — cute but dumb — and rolled his eyes before dunking underwater to resurface near her again, like a stubborn dog demanding attention.

She smiled slightly as Aerion jumped out in front of her.

Aerion popped up right in front of her, water sluicing off his hair. His face was inches from hers — too close for a normal swim session. He didn’t say anything. Just stared at her with those intense, dragon‑like eyes, then suddenly flicked river water at her face with his fingers. It was playful — childish, even — but the gesture felt weirdly intimate after everything that day. Dunk watched this interaction with narrowed eyes from behind her.

Dunk watched Aerion’s antics with mild disgust. Flicking water at her? Really? That was his idea of flirting? But then — because Dunk couldn’t help being a decent guy — he reached out and flicked Aerion right back, sending droplets flying. A sudden, stupid water fight started between them, like two overgrown kids rather than grown men. The tension from earlier melted into something sillier.

The water fight escalated quickly — splashing, shoving, even a half‑hearted attempt at wrestling. Aerion was all reckless energy; Dunk was more controlled but just as competitive.

Of course, while they were trying to drown each other, some girl disappeared from sight.

Aerion stopped first, blinking as he scanned the river. No sign of her. Dunk followed his gaze — then frowned.

Dunk’s military instincts kicked in immediately. He stopped splashing and whirled around, scanning the water with sharp eyes. “Teri?” he called — no panic yet, but urgency. Aerion froze too, his playful smirk vanishing. The river wasn’t deep, but if she had been swept by a current or something — shit. Both guys started moving toward shore to look for her.

They came out looking for her in just their boxers. Dunk and Aerion scrambled out of the water, dripping and shirtless — boxers clinging to their hips. They didn’t even care about modesty right now. They scanned the riverbank, then further up shore. No sign of her.

“It’s because of you, idiot!” said Aerion, clenching his teeth in irritation. Where had that fool gone again? Dunk ignored Aerion’s accusation — now wasn’t the time for blame. He started marching up the riverbank. “Where are you, darlin’?!” said Aerion, not shouting, just raising his voice. He rolled his eyes. 'This fool could have been mistaken for a wet fish and dragged off by bears — she was just that stupid'.

“Aerion?” Her voice came from the edge of the trees.

Aerion spun around at the sound of her voice — relief flashing across his face for half a second before it was buried under annoyance. “Where the hell were you?!” he barked, storming toward her. His bare chest was heaving, wet hair sticking to his forehead. Dunk approached calmer but just as fast, checking if she was okay with quick eyes. The worry in him was quieter but real.

“I thought I was going to drown and swam out of the river… I went into the forest to collect stones.” She showed the dirty stones in her hands.

Aerion stared at the rocks in her hands — utterly baffled. “Are you stupid? You born stupid or…?” he said, voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation.

“I don’t think I’m stupid,” she said, frowning slightly and pouting.

Aerion opened his mouth to argue — obviously she was stupid, wandering off alone in a forest — but Dunk cut in first. “You shouldn’t have gone off by yourself,” Dunk said firmly, not mean, just serious. Protective. Aerion glared at him for «taking her side» again. The stones still looked ridiculous to Aerion, though.

“Sorry.” She pursed her lips slightly. Water was still dripping from her hair and clothes. She was still barefoot, just like the boys. Her top was stuck to her chest like it was constricting. She fidgeted with the stones in her hands. The Texas sun was setting a little, and now the heat was giving way to evening stuffiness.

The golden Texas sunset painted everything in warm hues — her wet hair, the rocks in her hands, the boys’ bare torsos. The air was thick with humidity now that evening had come. Dunk took a step closer to her — not angry anymore, just concerned. He reached out like he might brush water off her shoulder but stopped himself. Aerion watched this near‑contact with narrowed eyes again.

Dunk, ever the gentleman, finally did gently shake water off her shoulder — just a small, brotherly gesture. His hands were warm from the fading sun. Aerion’s jaw ticked at this display of tenderness. It pissed him off.

Aerion suddenly grabbed her wrist — not rough, but possessive — and pulled her slightly away from Dunk. His grip was firm as he studied the stones in her hands. “Why these?” he demanded, like the answer mattered more than anything else right now. Dunk frowned at Aerion’s manhandling… again.

“They are just beautiful,” she answered, just like yesterday, near the tractor, when she had been collecting stones near his field.

Aerion remembered yesterday — the quiet moment by the tractor when she had shown him stones too. Back then, it had been sweet. Now it was annoying because Dunk was witnessing this. He scowled at the rocks like they had personally offended him. “Uh huh,” he muttered, unconvincing. Then he plucked one from her palm and chucked it into the bushes — petty as hell.

“Hey,” she protested.

Aerion met her “hey” with a defiant glare — what? I can throw rocks if I want to. Dunk sighed. This guy was such a child sometimes. Without thinking, Dunk bent down and picked up one of the stones she had dropped when Aerion tossed it. He handed it back to her quietly — replacing what was lost.

“Thanks,” she whispered, looking at his freckled fingers as he passes the pebble.

Dunk nodded, his quiet kindness speaking louder than words. The way he had handed her the stone was gentle — almost reverent, like it actually mattered to him. Aerion watched this exchange and felt… weird. Not guilty, but something close to irritation that Dunk was being so damn nice. It pissed him off. The sunset kept deepening — shadows stretching across the riverbank.

“I think it’s time to go home,” she said, looking around the forest, listening to the murmur of water.

The three of them emerged from the forest and walked to the riverbank toward the car. The boys, still nearly wet, began to get dressed. She sat on a hot stone, looking at them. Dad would say this was inappropriate, but… Dunk dressed first — efficient, military‑style. He pulled on his dry jeans and shirt over his damp skin, not fussing about the water still clinging to him. Aerion took longer. He shook out his shirt dramatically before tugging it on, then wrestled with belt buckles — loud and careless. Her dad would say this was inappropriate, but right now she was just watching two half‑dressed guys in the fading light.

“My clothes are still wet… and my hair… I’m going to wet your seats.” She sat on a hot rock. Her clothes were stuck to her before they could dry. She held rocks in her hands. The Texas sun was setting, but the air was still hot, so they were all sweating.

Aerion scoffed as he shoved his feet into boots. “Nice view… and it’s nicer when you take it off.”

Dunk, ever the problem‑solver, grabbed a spare hoodie from his duffel bag — the military‑issue one that was always clean. Without asking, he held it out to her. “Here. For your seat.” Aerion paused mid‑belt‑buckling to glare at Dunk. Why was he being so helpful? So considerate? It was annoying.

“Thank you,” she smiled slightly and took it. They gathered their things and got into the car. She put the hoodie on the front seat. Aerion sprawled out on the back seat, putting his feet and boots up against the window — and yes, no seatbelt.

Dunk got into the driver’s seat — automatic, since Aerion definitely shouldn’t be behind the wheel right now. He started the car with a quiet sigh. Aerion kicked his boots up higher, resting them on the back of Dunk’s seat like a lazy king. The lack of seatbelt was reckless, but typical for him. The AC blasted cold air as they all piled in — finally leaving that chaotic riverbank behind.

・❥・

Dunk pulled onto the road, driving carefully despite Aerion’s mess. The silence in the car was thick — not hostile, but heavy with everything unsaid. Aerion stared out the window at passing trees, bored already. Meanwhile, she clutched Dunk’s hoodie on her lap; the fabric smelled faintly of laundry soap and military‑issued detergent. The drive back felt longer than it actually was.

“It’s good that I didn’t wear makeup… then it would all wash off with water,” she started chatting again.

Dunk nodded slightly at her comment — he wasn’t big on makeup himself, so it made sense to him. He kept his eyes on the road, hands steady at ten and two.

Aerion scoffed from the backseat. “Makeup’s dumb anyway,” he declared loudly — as if he was an expert on women’s beauty routines. The car hummed along the darkening highway. Cattle grazed in fields beside them.

“I like to wear makeup,” she said, in a sincere tone.

Aerion blinked, caught off guard. He hadn’t considered that she might want to wear makeup — he just assumed it was a pointless girly thing. “Yeah?” he said, less dismissive now but still clueless. What did someone who wore makeup even look like? Pretty? Fancy? Dunk stayed quiet on the subject — not judging either way. But he was curious how she did her makeup… and if Aerion had ever seen her in it.

“Yeah,” she nodded, smiling slightly, glancing forward towards the window, at the endless road.

Aerion chewed on that for a second. The idea of her — her face — with makeup was weirdly intriguing to him. He pictured something dramatic, maybe red lips… not that he would admit it. “Whatcha wear?” he asked abruptly, like the question had physically escaped him. Dunk glanced at Aerion in the rearview mirror — surprised that he was actually engaging in a normal conversation for once.

“Um… a lot of things… mascara… eyeshadow… blush… lipstick… um… and… glitter, yeah…” She smiled slightly, thinking that Aerion was genuinely interested. “It’s cute.”

Aerion’s eyebrows shot up at glitter. Glitter? That sounded frivolous. But the way she said it — cute — made something in his chest tighten. “Like some whore?” he said mockingly with a smirk.

Dunk’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. That comment was way too harsh — even for Aerion. He wants to say something, maybe a few sweet words. But he keeps his mouth shut, not in front of SonTeri. No.

Aerion, meanwhile, just grinned at his own crudeness, pleased with himself for saying something provocative. The car filled with awkward silence again… but now it was charged with tension because of that insensitive remark.

“No, I have cute makeup… my daddy said so,” she said after a while, looking out the window, in a firm voice, without looking at him, frowningly continuing to look out the window.

Dunk relaxed slightly at her defense — her dad approved, so clearly it was not «whore makeup» like Aerion had implied.

“Yer daddy said so?” Aerion asked again, trying to contain his sneer. He rolled over onto his side, still lying on the back seat. “Darlin’, I believe yer makeup is ‘cute.’ I’d like to see it… I wonder if you can restore it when it smudges,” he joked mockingly, deliberately saying «when» instead of «if.»

Dunk side‑eyed Aerion in the rearview mirror. The joke was too forward, even for him — especially with her in the car. Aerion just smirked, proud of his dumb comment. He thought he was being smooth, but really it came off as a weird flex about smudged makeup. The car rolled on toward town, streetlights flickering to life along the roadside.

The car pulled up to her house — the familiar porch light glowing warmly. Dunk parked neatly, turning off the engine. Aerion stretched like a cat in the backseat before sitting up, his earlier teasing mood fading slightly now that she was home. Dunk got out first and walked around to open her door — a polite gesture he had picked up from military courtesy.

She stepped out onto the gravel, still holding Dunk’s hoodie. The night air was cooler now, a relief after the day’s heat. Aerion followed at his own pace — lazy as ever — shoving his hands in his pockets while eyeing her house. He didn’t say anything about leaving yet… just lingered. Dunk waited beside her.

Dunk hesitated, then said quietly: “Want me to walk you to the door?” It was a simple offer — protective, but not overbearing. Aerion scowled. He wanted him to walk her in. But he stayed silent… for now.

“I don’t know… probably… my parents would be happy to see you… although you saw each other at work…” She fidgeted with his sweatshirt in her hands.

Dunk nodded — her parents did like him. He was basically family at this point. “Yeah, I’ll go in,” he said easily, already heading toward the porch steps.

She smiled slightly. Then she remembered Aerion and turned to face him. “Aerion… you… will you come for dinner?” she asked only out of politeness, as they had taught her in church. She looked into his piercing eyes.

Aerion just frowned. Stupid politeness. He wouldn’t tolerate another second with this idiot Dunk. Aerion’s jaw clenched. The polite invitation stung — because it felt obligatory, not genuine. And having to sit through dinner with Dunk? Hell no. “Nah,” he muttered, turning away to light a cigarette right there on her porch — rude and rebellious as ever. Dunk heard the rejection but didn’t comment, just kept walking toward the door like nothing happened.

She watched Dunk walk away. “See you tomorrow, Aerion. It was fun with you.” She spoke quickly and smiled quickly, saying goodbye to him, patting his bare arm. “Bye.” She waved and ran after Dunk.

Aerion froze at the touch — her hand on his bare arm. The smile, the bye, the quick pat… it was too sweet, too normal. He hadn’t gotten a real goodbye. He watched her sprint after Dunk with a scowl that deepened as she disappeared inside together. The cigarette between his lips burned untouched — he had forgotten to take a drag in his irritation.

Aerion stood there for a long moment, smoke curling from his cigarette. The front door clicked shut behind her and Dunk. He felt… weird. Not angry exactly — more like left out. Which was stupid, because he never wanted to come to dinner anyway. With a grunt, he finally took a drag of the cigarette and started walking back to his house alone.

・❥・

Dunk and she entered her house. There was noise inside; it was already evening, and her parents were awake. The sound of cooking came from the kitchen. She clutched Dunk’s wet hoodie in her hands.

“I’m home,” she said, taking off her shoes. Dunk, behind her, took his off too without her saying a word — it wasn’t his first time in their Asian house.

Her mother peeked out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her face lit up when she saw Dunk — she had always treated him like a son. “Duncan! Did you come to dinner?” she said in warm surprise, then eyed her daughter — taking in her damp clothes and tired expression. From the dining table, her father glanced up from his newspaper. When he saw his dream son‑in‑law and family friend, he even got up from his chair to hug the two‑meter‑tall boy.

Her father’s embrace with Dunk was firm and proud — the kind of hug a dad gave the son he wished he had. Meanwhile, her mother rushed over to her, gently taking Dunk’s hoodie from her hands. “Oh honey, you’re soaked! Let me get you dry clothes,” she fussed immediately. Dunk stood patiently in the entryway — used to this family love. He could even smell dinner cooking… something delicious.

They went inside. “We were by the river…” girl said. Dunk sat down on the sofa next to her father, discussing military topics and something about rugby. “I’ll go change,” she said, walking up to the second floor to her room.

Upstairs, she quickly stripped off her damp clothes and pulled on dry pajamas — a soft cotton set. Downstairs, Dunk and her dad were deep in conversation about rugby tactics and military training — Dunk nodding along respectfully. Her mom called up: “Teri! Dinner’s ready soon!” The clatter of plates being set on the table drifted upstairs.

“Now!” she screamed and quickly hung her clothes on the drying rack. Her gaze fell on the Targaryen house in the distance from the window. The light was on; they were probably having a family dinner too. She remembered Mr. Maekar, little Egg and… Aerion. She quickly went downstairs, her hair tangled and fluffy from being wet and drying. She sat down next to Mom and Dad and rolled her eyes. Dad was always like that around Dunk… he would take him to church with her right now.

The dining table was set beautifully — her mom’s cooking always smelled incredible. Her dad had his arm slung over Dunk’s shoulder like an old buddy, still chatting rugby. Her mother gave her a gentle smile as she sat down, reaching to smooth her wild hair with her fingers — the way she had done since childhood. “Eat up,” she said warmly, passing the dish of steaming food toward her.

Dad, as always, praised Duncan as the local superman. He leaned in, voice booming with pride: “Duncan here could bench press a tractor — did you know that? And his grades are perfect! Military academy wants him next year!” Dunk didn’t brag — he just ate quietly, his cheeks slightly pink at the praise. He was used to it by now, but he also genuinely liked her dad. Her mom nodded along, adding: “Such a good boy.”

SonTeri just ate silently. 'Sometime during dinner they would both get tired.' girl rolled eyes.

She ate quietly, listening to the endless praise. It was sweet… but also tiring. Every meal with Dunk was basically a Duncan Appreciation Hour. Dunk kept glancing at her — subtly checking if she was okay. He felt bad for hogging all the attention. Her dad poured more tea into Dunk’s cup like it was an honor just to serve him.

“Aerion showed me and Dunk the local river,” girl suddenly said, to diversify at least today’s dinner. “So we were wet.”

Her dad’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of Aerion. He knew the Targaryen boy — everyone did — and he didn’t particularly like him. “Oh? That wild one?” he said, tone neutral but not friendly. Dunk nodded slightly, confirming that they had been with Aerion that day. Her mom just kept eating, curious but not judgmental yet.

Her father took a sip of tea and seemed to remember something. “Speaking of Targaryens… our neighbor Maekar Targaryen turns out to be more than just a farmer. Our military base works with him. The Targaryens are… sort of local farmers and businessmen… the face of this small town… they provide work on their plots… they are in contact with the local military base… and they are one of the founders of the town… it seems we are neighbors with the local ‘nobility.’ Maybe we should suggest going to church together on Sunday? If they help the town so much, then Maekar is a noble man.”

“A contract with the base? Aerion didn’t tell me,” she chewed thoughtfully. Surprised by every word spoken.

Her dad nodded, setting his fork down. “Yeah. Maekar supplies beef and vegetables to the mess hall. They’ve got a big operation — land, cattle, even some equipment leasing.” He sounded impressed despite himself. Dunk chimed in quietly: “My CO mentioned it once. Said the Targaryens are respected here.” Aerion had never told her any of this… probably because he thought it was boring farmer talk — not cool enough for him to brag about.

“So they have a network of farms? Not just that ranch and the field behind their house?”, She asks in a surprised voice, remembering Mr. Maekar's face and wondering if the new information she learned suits him.

Her dad waved a hand, gesturing to the vast land beyond town. “Oh no, it’s much bigger than that. They own several farms — cattle ranches, wheat fields… even an orchard on the outskirts.” Dunk added: “They lease some land to smaller farmers too. It’s basically their whole business.” Aerion came from money. Not just rough‑and‑tumble ranch money — actual farming empire wealth. And he acted like a delinquent anyway.

“You said they were one of the founders? Like some great‑grandfather of Aerion?”, she is interested now.

Her dad nodded, reaching for his tea again. “Yep. Old Maekar Targaryen — the original — helped settle this town back in the 1800s. His family’s been here generations.” Dunk explained further: “They built the first grain mill, donated land for churches… basically local legends.”

Aerion was descended from actual pioneers — rich ranchers with deep roots. No wonder he acted like a prince… because technically? He kind of was.

“Wow… how much you can learn on the base…”, the girl says almost skeptically.

Dunk smiled slightly at her comment — he loved learning things like this. Military life exposed you to a lot of local history. “Yeah, the base keeps records on all major landowners. It’s good to know who really runs things around here.” Her dad added proudly: “And Duncan pays attention! Not like some kids who only care about football…” He side‑eyed the TV where a sports game was playing quietly in the background.

“So our neighbors are good… how sweet…”, she makes a verdict based on what she's heard. It all sounds surreal, the military moved in with their business neighbors, the local 'dynasty.'

Her mom finally spoke up, her voice soft and approving. “Very sweet. It’s good when neighbors help the community. Maekar even sponsors the little league baseball team.” Dunk nodded in agreement — respecting anyone who contributed to a town. Aerion’s family wasn’t just rich — they were actively involved in making this place better. Meanwhile, Aerion himself probably thought charity was for losers.

“And I thought they were just simple hard‑working farmers… Aerion works from morning until night… but it’s apparently for their own farm.”, she can't believe her new friend didn't tell her this.

Her dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Simple? No — those Targaryens are businessmen. Aerion working hard doesn’t mean he’s just some farmhand. He’s learning the family empire.” Dunk pointed out: “That ranch behind their house? That’s probably one of the main properties — their headquarters, basically.” Aerion wasn’t just working — he was being groomed to take over everything. And he acted like a lazy rebel… ironic.

“And yet… you would have found out about it yourself if you had visited the city, and not sat in your room for two days,” said her father.

Her dad gave her a look — the classic «I’m disappointed in your lack of curiosity» face. The kind that made you feel guilty for sitting around. “Yeah,” he sighed, “if you went to town more, walked around, talked to people… you’d know things like this.” Dunk stayed quiet — he didn’t want to scold her too. But he did agree with her dad: getting out helped.

“The city is a hole, Dad… even if the Targaryens are thriving,” she said, just picking at her plate.

Her dad sighed — he got it. The town was small, boring, and full of gossip. But that didn’t mean she should isolate herself. “Still… ignorance isn’t an excuse,” he said gently. “Even a ‘hole’ has things worth knowing.” A tense silence fell over dinner. Dunk glanced between her and her dad — awkwardly chewing his food to avoid getting involved in a family argument.

“Okay,” she quietly agreed just for show and kept chewing. Texas is a hole. And why am I the only one who understands this? Even if the Targaryens are so noble and all… this is still not Minnesota.

Her dad exhaled — he knew that tone. The I hate Texas tone. He had lived in Minnesota once too, after all. “Minnesota was better,” he admitted quietly, surprising her. But then he added: “But this is our life now.” Dunk stayed out of it entirely — Texas wasn’t his home either; he was from Georgia. This conversation felt too personal for him.

“It’s good that I found a friend here… at least…” She meant Aerion. “Who knew that he would turn out to be the heir of a feudal farmer.” She smiled slightly to ease the tension.Her dad softened at her smile — he was glad she had found someone. Aerion might be reckless, but at least he was a local kid. “Yeah… Targaryen blood or not, the boy’s got roots here.” Dunk stayed silent, not daring to tell about Aerion’s obsessive, possessive, and overly intimate behavior that day, not to mention throwing her into the water twice and his insulting, joking words. How could she be «friends» with him?

The dinner mood lightened slightly now that the tension had eased. The rest of dinner passed peacefully — her mom asked Dunk about his training, her dad brought up church plans for Sunday, and the clinking of silverware filled the cozy kitchen. She ate quietly, thinking about Aerion… that heir title changed things. Did it make him more interesting? Or just weirdly pretentious? A cool night breeze drifted through the open window.

After dinner, she helped clear the table and wash the dishes. Dunk wanted to help too, but Mom kicked him out of the kitchen to entertain her dad on the couch. Her mom shooed Dunk out with a playful shooing motion — “Go, go! Men don’t do dishes!” — even though Dunk wanted to help. Now he sat stiffly on the couch next to her dad. Her dad flipped through TV channels while Dunk stared at the screen, awkwardly sipping tea. Meanwhile, she and her mom scrubbed plates in warm soapy water — the familiar rhythm of cleanup.

The kitchen filled with the quiet comfort of shared chores — her mom humming a little tune as she dried dishes. The tension from earlier was gone; this was familiar, safe. Outside, crickets chirped. A dog barked somewhere in town. Dunk and her dad’s conversation drifted in — they were now debating which NFL team would win next week. Typical man talk.

“Mum,” she said softly.

Her mom paused drying a plate and turned fully to her at the soft call. Her face was all gentle concern — the way it got when she sensed something was on her mind. “Hmm, sweetheart?” she asked softly, wiping her hands on her apron before resting them on her daughter’s shoulders. The kitchen felt suddenly smaller… more intimate. Like a safe space for confessions.

“Are we really going to invite the Targaryens to go to church together?”

Her mom considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. Maekar’s a good man — he deserves the invitation. And it would be polite.” She smiled slightly. “Aerion can come too… if he wants to.” She didn’t sound overly enthusiastic about Aerion, but she also wasn’t opposed. Her dad had suggested it, so that meant they were serious about this church plan.

“I don’t think Aerion particularly likes the church,” she paused. “Is that bad?”

Her mom sighed — not in anger, but resignation. She knew Aerion’s type: rebellious, loud, probably skipped church. “Well… it’s not ideal,” she admitted honestly. “But if Maekar wants to go, we can’t exclude his son just because he might misbehave.” A practical answer. Her parents weren’t about to kick out a whole family over one wild kid’s attitude toward God.

She wanted to ask another question… about… strange attraction… but she thought… it wasn’t chaste. “Do you think my makeup is provocative?” For some reason she asked that instead, remembering how Aerion had called her “like a whore” in the car. Maybe he was right? Had he seen whores? She hadn’t.

Her mom blinked — surprised by the sudden question. Then her face softened with motherly reassurance. “Oh, no honey,” she said firmly, cupping her daughter’s cheek. “Your makeup is pretty. Cute. Not… that other thing at all.” She tilted her head, studying her. “Who said that? About it being… provocative?” Her voice was calm, but there was a protective edge — she wanted to know who dared imply something negative about her daughter. Aerion’s stupid comment flashed in her mind. Her mom would not approve of that language at all.

“Nobody, I just think about things… you know me,” she said, putting clean plates on the drying rack.

Her mom studied her for a second — she knew that “nobody” was usually someone. But she didn’t push… yet. “Mmm,” she hummed, stacking the last dish before turning off the water. She gave her daughter’s shoulder a gentle squeeze — her version of saying: I trust you, but I’m here if it’s about something serious.

After finishing, they went into the living room. The living room was warm and cozy — Dunk sat stiffly on the couch beside her dad, who was fully engrossed in a rugby match replay. Dunk gave her a small, polite smile as she entered. Her mom headed straight to her armchair with her knitting. The TV glowed with flashing stadium lights and roaring crowds. A comfortable silence settled — the kind that came after shared meals and family time.She knew Dunk would stay overnight. This wasn’t the first time. He would get up in the morning and go to the base. “I’ll go to my place,” she said quietly.

Dunk nodded at her — he knew the routine. He would sleep on the guest couch like always, up early for his five a.m. base drills. “Goodnight, Teri,” he said softly. Her dad barely looked away from the TV but muttered: “Sleep well.” She headed upstairs to her quiet bedroom — the house settling into its nighttime rhythm around her.

She sat down on the bed. The phone didn’t work; she couldn’t even scroll. She didn’t feel like drawing. She got up and went to the shelf. There were stones there — the ones she had collected near the Targaryen fields, the ones she had had in her pocket when she was riding with him, pressed against him, in the tractor cabin. Girl picked them up and examined them. How could Aerion have hidden the fact that he was such a big shot in the town, always laughing at her because she was rich and a city girl? Although, they had only known each other for three days. Maybe he needed time? SonTeri hoped tomorrow he wouldn’t be so busy with work; she would like to chat with him.

She took one of the most beautiful stones and went to the window, looking at their house in the distance. She felt something… she didn’t know… but this was what she had been looking for when she arrived… Texas inspiration. Girl sat down to draw. The moon cast silver light through her window as she sketched. The stone sat beside her sketchbook — its smooth surface catching the glow. Across the fields, the Targaryen ranch house was dark… everyone asleep. But in that distance, something felt right — a strange pull she couldn’t name yet. Her pencil moved on its own — drawing not just rocks or landscapes, but maybe… a tall boy with wild hair? A laugh? A river at sunset? Texas wasn’t Minnesota. But it was starting to feel like hers.

•─────⋅☾ ○ ☽⋅─────•

— (There will be a continuation. English is not my native language. I don't write fanfiction. This is my first work. I promise it will be better.)

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