I slept dreamlessly for once—no trip to the void, no strange visions. The smell of coffee and my mamá’s cooking drifted into my room, confirming she must have gotten home early. I reached over to my nightstand, grabbing my phone. I squinted as the lock screen photo of Carter and me brightened before my eyes adjusted. Just after nine. Perfect. I definitely needed the rest after last night’s dreams and Carter’s unexpected visit.

I smiled, thinking about the evening we’d shared, until his tattoo flashed in my mind, pulling me back to that second dream. I shook it off. Not now. I sat up, pulling my covers aside as a chill swept over me. I slipped into the fluffy grey robe I’d tossed over my chair the night before and padded over to the window, tugging the curtains open. The yard stretched out below, bare and brown. I scowled. “Come on already,” I whispered, annoyed at the snowless scene.

Snow had a way of transforming everything, softening the world in white. In Waterow, it blanketed everything in a quiet beauty, but in the city? That was a different story. On the north side, the snow was stunning at first but quickly dissolved into grey, filthy slush. Across the River Draeg, the south side became even gloomier and drearier in the winter. There, the snow never stayed white, turning brown and patchy almost as soon as it fell. Yet, despite its grit, parts of the south side held an undeniable appeal—bohemian artists, musicians, and the best nightlife around all gathered near the infamous Club Dusk.

Club Dusk: so famous and infamous that both rich and poor lined up for hours just to get in. No VIP entry, no guest lists. If you wanted in, you had to stand in line. I’d always wanted to go, to hear that legendary music and taste their mind-blowing cocktails. Just thinking about it made me sigh.

“Elena, ¡el desayuno está listo! Get down here, silly girl!” I heard my mamá’s warm, slightly raspy voice call up from the kitchen. Ay, she really knew how to make me feel like I was five years old again. I grabbed my phone and left my room in a hurry; my mamá was not the type to call again…

I entered the kitchen, which was bright and painted in rich yellows, decorated with our family memorabilia. The thousands of magnets on the fridge from our travels and souvenir gifts from friends practically covered it from top to bottom. My mamá, who was pouring coffee at the kitchen counter, was slightly shorter than me, with a warm, inviting presence. She had a soft, round face framed by her short, dark brown hair, which had streaks of silver peeking through, and she wore stylish glasses that accentuated her expressive brown eyes. We both shared the same nose, but her skin was so much more tanned than mine—something I always envied when we went somewhere sunny. I glanced over at the cause of my fair skin; my dad was sitting at the table, reading the paper. His fiery red hair, a vibrant shade like mine but lightened by age to a coppery hue, had started to show some whispers of white. He had a strong jawline and deep-set green eyes that twinkled with mischief. One time, I joked that his hair reminded me of a fox; he replied, wiggling his eyebrows, “I’m foxy!” Both my mamá and I rolled our eyes and giggled.

“Morning, mamá! Morning, dad!” I called out as I sat down at the table. I looked down at the spread and salivated. She had made pan tostado with huevos rotos and a side of bacon!

“Mmmm, mamá, ¡eres la mejor!” I reached for the fork, but a spatula smacked my hand. I cried out in shock and looked up at my mamá, who was staring down at me. Yup, five-year-old me ran for the hills. I knew that look all too well. “Did you finish your project like you promised, niña?”

I hesitated while holding my smacked hand; it did hurt, but it felt like a reality check. My heart was racing as I looked up at her and glanced at my dad, whose eyes were peeking out from behind the newspaper. “Uh, well, sort of…” I said quietly, knowing full well I hadn’t done a thing.

“I was just… um, struggling on one bit.”

“Mmm-hmm.” My mamá crossed her arms, an eyebrow raised. “Struggling, huh? You mean you were with Carter?” My jaw dropped stupidly, and my cheeks flushed.

“What? Noooo!” I protested a little too loudly. “I was—”

“Don’t lie to me, Elena,” she cut in, a knowing smirk on her lips. “The neighbours saw him come over. They commented on the fabulousness of his car as your father collected the morning paper.”

We both looked at my dad, and his face matched his hair. Traitor… I softly glared at him. But then I sighed; no, it wasn’t his fault—it was mine. My stomach dropped as I softly replied, “Okay, I didn’t finish it.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She leaned in, her tone shifting to something more serious. “You know you’re almost twenty-one, right? You need to take your responsibilities seriously. I worry about you getting sidetracked, mi amor.” This wasn’t the first time I had heard this. When I started dating Carter, my grades dipped, and this project was supposed to be my comeback to pick up my grades, but I honestly found the subject—no, the whole degree—insufferable! I couldn’t tell her that.

When I didn’t respond, she sighed and said in a softer tone, “We just want you to have a bright future, Elena.” She looked over at my dad, and he nodded in agreement. I could tell there was a hint of disappointment in her voice. “You’re so smart, but you won’t get anywhere if you don’t apply yourself.”

“I promise I will finish it,” I said quickly, feeling the weight of both their gazes. “I just hit a bit of a mental block and got distracted. I plan to work on it straight after breakfast.”

My mamá's expression softened, but a hint of worry crept into her tone. “Just remember, mi amor, we will always be here to help you, but you have to meet us halfway.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. The weight of their expectations felt heavy on me—almost suffocating. What else could I do? I could never quite figure out what I wanted or fight for it.

This was a bit too heavy for breakfast. My dad must have sensed it; he cleared his throat and set the newspaper on the table. “Uh, when I was driving last night, I saw a particularly decent cabinet someone callously threw away.” My eyes brightened, and I looked over at my mamá, who was setting down coffee cups. Oh, this was going to be good.

My mamá rolled her eyes, looking at him over her glasses. “Ay, Tobias, tell me you didn’t bring home another piece of basura again!” He grinned wider.

“Yes, but that wasn’t the best part, Maria!” Suddenly, he seemed to grow younger, his face lighting up with excitement. “So, there I was, struggling to get the thing onto Murray”—the name of my dad’s truck; he loved naming his cars—“and one of the drawers slid out and fell, making quite the noise. What I saw will shock and amaze you!”

I groaned. “Dad, you sound like one of those clickbait posts.” I took a sip of my coffee, and my mamá followed suit, needing it to settle her nerves. Our garage was already overflowing with Dad’s projects.

“Inside the drawers were old recipe books! Maria, you need to see these. They are books our parents would have used.” I exchanged a knowing look with my mamá, and we both started laughing.

“What?” My dad looked deflated, and we both sobered at his expression. Aw, crap. My mamá smiled and said, “Okay, let’s see them.” He jumped up from the table, and I took the opportunity to start eating. When your mamá makes a good hot breakfast, you take every chance you can get!

Dad rushed back, plopping a stack of old recipe books down on the table. The plates and cups rattled as he set them down. He opened the first book and showed it to my mamá. “Look, they belonged to an older person, perhaps our parents’ generation, who really loved to cook.”

We leaned in as he flipped through the pages, revealing recipes that looked forty to fifty years old, complete with handwriting in the margins. It was actually kind of cool.

I glanced at my dad; his gaze seemed distant. “They probably wanted to cook professionally but couldn’t due to home life demands. They would have loved to go to cooking school.”

My mamá raised an eyebrow. “How could you possibly know that, Tobias?”

He blinked, a smile spreading across his face. “Just a guess. Sometimes I like to make up stories about the owners of the things I find.” He shrugged his shoulders, and my mamá smirked and went back to reading the recipe books.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

After breakfast, I washed the dishes and quickly tidied up the kitchen. I ran up the stairs, still in my pyjamas, and plopped into my chair, hyping myself up to finish this project. I got this. I can totally do this. I’m a superstar at project management.

But as the laptop screen brightened, my mood darkened. The empty page of my Word document stared back at me, full of high expectations. Ay, I’m in for a struggle. No, I argued with myself. You can do this. Just write it!

That was probably the best advice I could have given myself—just write it. I spent a solid hour and a half working through the darn thing. There were probably some good bits, but a lot of rubbish. Still, I figured I could always go back and edit.

I glanced at the clock: it was eleven-thirty. Carter was coming by after twelve. I was already looking forward to the coffee. I stood, stretching, and headed to my dresser. I decided on a white long-sleeve top, a black mini skirt, and spotty tights. Definitely going to look cute with my boots, I thought.

After dressing, I tried to tame my wild waves, tying my hair into a side ponytail, carefully pulling out a few strands to frame my face. That’s when I realized I hadn’t told my parents Carter was coming over, and I panicked. I glanced up at the eye on my Clarity poster. I always used it to keep me grounded.

I took a deep breath, exhaled, and steeled myself for chaos.

“Mamá!” I called as I exited my room. Even though she was downstairs in the study with the door shut, the woman had ears like a hawk. She heard me and shouted back loudly enough for me to hear, "¿Qué?"

I smirked and moved downstairs. I knocked on the door before opening it. My mamá looked up from her scrapbook and adjusted her glasses.

“Carter is coming by,” I started, and I saw her mouth open in protest. “Wait, hear me out. It’s just for an hour, we’re going for a walk in Silverwood Park. I’ve finished my first draft, I just need to go back to it with fresh eyes.”

She didn’t say anything, and suddenly I was reduced to that little girl who needed to ask for permission. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and shrugged. “Go on, do what you want.”

I gawked at her. “Seriously? No lecture? No words of caution? Nothing?” I waved my hand around with a smirk.

"¡Ay, niña!" she exclaimed, then smiled. “You should know by now what I mean, without me having to say it.”

“Indeed, you usually say it with a look.” I joked. She raised an eyebrow sternly at me.

“That’s the one!” I laughed.

"¡Niña traviesa!" she said, exasperated. True, I could be pretty cheeky with her sometimes. I leaned over and gave her a hug.

“I promise, I’ll get this project done. I’m still learning to balance things. I can get swept away by different moments.” I broke the hug, and she gave me a knowing smile.

“Precisely how we ended up with you a little early.”

And there it was—the words of caution.

“Mamá, ugh, ¡para!” I groaned. She snorted and waved me away.

“Go, go, have fun. I’ll see you later.”

I smiled and closed the door behind me. My phone vibrated, and I saw a text from Carter saying he’d be here in five minutes. I walked to the front door, laced up my boots, shrugged on my khaki-colored coat, and wrapped a cream scarf around my neck.

As I walked out the front door, I headed around to the garage and saw my dad working away on his latest project. He had on headphones and was dancing around as he sanded the cabinet. I giggled and waved to get his attention.

He pulled out one earbud and squinted his eye to hear me better. “Hey, I’m going for a walk in Silverwood with Carter. I managed to get quite a bit done in the last hour and a half.”

My dad smiled and replied, “Did you tell your mom?”

I nodded, and he shook his head, chuckling. “All good, then. Have fun and watch out for wolves.”

He gave me that faraway look again, and I raised my eyebrows in confusion.

“Dad, there haven’t been any wolves in that park for over 50 years.”

He shrugged, popped his earbud back in, and went back to dancing and sanding.

I shook my head, smiling. What a goof.

It was then I heard the roaring purr of Carter’s car coming down the street. I stepped to the curb and waited as my man pulled up. He stopped perfectly, the door right in front of me, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the back of the seats—almost like he was ready for me to slide in next to him.

I opened the door, and old rock music blasted out. He turned it down, motioned for me to get in, and said, “Your chariot, m’lady.”

I laughed and slid in. Once he had his arm around me, he leaned in for a kiss. I kept it a little chaste—because even though my dad wouldn’t spy on me, I didn’t want him to catch me in full make-out mode. Carter glanced up and saw my dad still working away. He smirked, understanding.

“Let’s go then, shall we?” I nodded, and we drove off.

We’d only been driving for about five minutes, but there was already this electric current building between us. I caught Carter sneaking glances at my legs more than a few times, especially where my skirt rode up just a little, showing a hint of thigh. By the seventh time our eyes met, he cleared his throat, looking almost bashful.

“You know,” he started, shooting me a look with a small grin, “last night was… pretty amazing.”

I couldn’t resist. I leaned in a little closer, matching his smirk. “Oh really?” I teased. “Which part?”

Carter shifted in his seat, his eyes darting out the window. Then, with a low mumble, he replied, “When… you were on top.”

I raised an eyebrow, letting the surprise play on my face, then reached down and unlaced one of my boots, watching his gaze flick down, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Mmmm,” I said, untying the other boot now, “and what exactly was so amazing about that?”

I saw we’d arrived at the park, but Carter took a different turn down a more secluded path.

“Well, uh… you just looked so damn hot.” His voice dropped as he glanced over, and I felt a spark of anticipation as we ventured deeper into the quiet, wooded area. Message received.

Smiling, I slowly unzipped my jacket, slipping it off along with my scarf. “Mmm, anything else?” I asked, raising a brow as he pulled onto an empty trail where we saw no one else around. I tugged my skirt just a touch higher, sliding my thumbs to the edge of my tights. Lifting myself slightly, I began to ease them down—tights, and all. Carter swallowed hard, his eyes darkening as he swerved onto a hidden path winding into the forest. The car stopped abruptly, and he adjusted his seat before reaching for me. With a quick pull, I was suddenly on his lap, his arms wrapping around me in the enclosed, thrilling space. We started to passionately kiss and I felt his hands undo the belt of his jeans and pull them down. I used my hand to slide him inside me and I rode him as hard as I could. I glanced around the winter-dead forest, its bare branches laced with mist. Even though it was the middle of the day, the shadows here felt thick and private, wrapping us in a hidden embrace. No one could see us, but the thrill of getting caught sent a rush through me. I wanted Carter to see how open I was to a little adventure, to spark something bold between us. Maybe, just maybe, it would invite him to experiment with me too. I just wanted more.

I felt him grab my ass, he stared at me darkly as I placed my hands on his solid chest, moving up and down around him. We were both breathing so hard and I started to moan in pleasure. The gradual burn of my climax came out as a moan which drove him over the edge. He grabbed my hair hard and started to thrust in his seat while kissing me passionately, he was going to meet me there. Oh god this felt so good, this was what I wanted, I tilted my head back ready to explode-

“Oh, before I forget, here’s your coffee, cappuccino, right?”

And like that, I was yanked back into reality and blinking at a cup of coffee that had been placed in front of my face. We were just arriving at Silverwood and I took the cup of coffee from Carter and smiled.

“Thanks, I needed this,” I replied, trying to keep my voice normal. Yeah, I also needed a cold shower. Perhaps when we get out the cold air will help.

“Where were you just there?” Carter asked, smirking.

I flushed a little. “Oh, just this silly project. I finished the first draft, but I need to go back and re-read and edit it, get out all the gumph.”

Carter raised an eyebrow. “Gumph?”

I nodded confidently. “Yeah, you know, all the filler and nonsense.”

He chuckled. “I think you mean ‘guff,’ right?”

I shrugged, feigning innocence. “Well, I like gumph better.” Carter snorted.

“You really do need the coffee. If you’re making up words, I worry what your project looks like,” he said, grinning.

I glared at him, biting my cheek to stop myself from smiling.

We arrived at the park, and Carter found a parking spot. The roar of his engine died, and we were engulfed in silence. Carter turned to me, a shy smile playing on his face.

“Hey, I wanted to give you something now. I know it’s not your birthday for a couple of days, but I couldn’t really resist.” I smiled back as he shifted in his seat, leaning over to rummage in the back. A moment later, he pulled out a gift wrapped in green Christmas paper with a gold ribbon.

“Happy birthday, El,” he said, handing it to me, his gaze expectant.

I took the gift, feeling a flutter in my chest as I began undoing the wrapping. It was roughly A2 size, maybe a little smaller. When I finally pulled the item free, I gasped.

It was me.

I stared at the portrait, my fingers trembling. It was me, but different—more ethereal. Carter had captured every detail: the way my red hair caught the light, the depth in my eyes. Behind me, the Silverwood Forest stretched in soft golden light, its trees dark and looming, almost alive.

I stood at the forefront, my expression quiet yet strong, as if frozen in a moment of peace. The colours blended perfectly—the greens of the trees, the soft shades of my hair and skin. It wasn’t just a portrait; it was a scene that seemed to breathe.

My breath caught. The detail was incredible. Carter had managed to capture me in a way I’d never seen before—and it was beautiful.

“Oh, Carter,” I started, but the words caught in my throat as I kept staring at the painting, unable to pull my eyes away from the delicate detail.

“Ah, you don’t like it,” he said, his voice faltering, and he quickly looked away, clearly embarrassed.

“No, no,” I rushed to say, my voice soft but sincere. “I love it. No one’s ever done a portrait of me before, and it’s surreal seeing myself through your eyes. It’s... it’s beautiful, Carter.” My voice wavered slightly, the lump in my throat growing. I blinked back the unexpected tears.

I’d seen some of Carter’s art before—mostly futuristic stuff, robots and mech suits, all that. But this? This was something entirely different. It was soft, romantic, and full of emotion in a way I never imagined he could paint.

With the portrait in hand, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him deeply. He kissed me back with equal passion, and when we finally pulled apart, our foreheads resting together, he whispered, “You make me so happy, El.”

I smiled, brushing my nose against his, and said, “Same, but about you.” His chuckle vibrated against my lips, and I couldn’t help but laugh too.