The yellow paving stones of the city centre are mixed with a few blue and red lines, the sun of September glints off the greenish-grey wrought-iron lanterns. Leaves of the roadside hornbeams rustle in the wind. On the sides, shop windows lining the lower floors of neoclassical and eclectic buildings tempt passers-by with their vibrant display. We are passing a paper stationery shop. I glance at the huge glass surface that mirrors us: the tall, black-clad, white-haired apex predator with the race bike and the short, plump schoolgirl in the tattered-sleeved boy's sweater. The contrast could not be greater. Just like with Lili; shaggy blonde hair, freckles...

The pain that spreads through my chest immediately draws my attention back to Talia. She keeps talking. About school, about, Mandy, about books, about people passing by, about keeping animals, about having children, about the environment, whatever comes to her mind. She hardly takes a breath, as if she's muttering a demon-invoking mantra and fears that if she stops talking, I'll vanish into thin air. And Jev said she is an introvert... It's amazing what female rivalry can do. Or maybe it was my hand.

It makes me smile.

Well, at least as long as her mouth keeps running, she's not spinning erotic scenes in her head. Her aura is excited, in love, no sign of yesterday's hurricane. Maybe it was just the first big flare-up.

I'm absorbed in the melody of her cheerful voice, her figure bending sideways from the weight. I should take the heavy shoulder bag from her, but I'm afraid I'd jolt her out of the monologue and cause another tsunami. Anyway, we are almost there.

As I park the motorbike in the shade of a tree, two guys turn to me from the bench by the fountain, and a girl at the newsstand, and a beggar at the lamp post. Jev was right; this bike is too eye-catching. But I like speed too much to give it up.

With my helmet under my arm, I open the glass door of the Once upon a time and let Talia go in first. As soon as I enter, the smell of freshly roasted coffee and whipped cream creeps into my nose, my ears fill with the murmur of guests' voices. The grey auras form a cohesive shell, with only a few colored ones. It's just as crowded as I expected. Unlike me, Talia finds the crowd refreshing. So there must have been oppressive thoughts lurking in a secluded corner of her mind. Justifiably so, after all, being an older and stronger man I could have dragged her down to a coed toilet in a nearby alley. Which is out of the question, of course; I'd rather rape her in broad daylight in the middle of the street than in a cramped, airless, unhygienic place.

I push my way forward to a table by the window, slightly out of the way, in a small space, cramped with people. It's probably the last seat available, but I ask anyway:

“Is this okay?”

“Perfect.”

I pull out the white leatherette-covered chair to offer her a seat, put my helmet on the empty third chair, lay my coat on the back and sit down opposite her. As there is only a drink tray lying in the middle of the table with a napkin holder, I politely push it towards her.

“Order what you’d like.”

She reaches for it slowly, but the eagerness of her aura tells me that she is keen to live out her embarrassment in the cover of the cardboard. The embarrassment that my attention evokes in her.

The sunlight streaming in through the window gives her brown hair a golden sheen, glinting off her half-rimmed glasses. How different she is now from yesterday in the library! She could barely string together a sentence that made sense. I was sure it would be difficult to engage her in conversation, to get her to open up. And here she is, already an open book, keeping only her legs closed for me. Well, not for long.

A waiter in a green apron is standing next to us with a notebook in his hand.

“Have you made your choice?”

“I’d like a marzipan hot chocolate.”

“And for you?” The boy looks at me.

“That'll be all, thank you.”

He takes the order and disappears into the crowd. Once out of earshot, Talia starts giggling.

“Am I really going to drink alone? Like in a vampire novel?“

“I have a sensitive digestive system that demands a special diet.” I shrug, hiding the fact that I don't have a conventional digestive system at all.

“Oh” She frowns. “I can relate. Coffee is not good for me either; caffeine makes my heart ache. I was diagnosed with a heart valve disorder when I was in kindergarten. The cardiologist said it was a congenital disorder that would stay with me for the rest of my life, but nowadays I experience the symptoms less and less. How strange...”

No, it's not. It's more unusual that it was detected on a doxi. Although, the mental blockade generated by the human mind can convince the mortal consciousness of odd things. As a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy, it makes true what it believes to be true, and conceals what it denies or is not aware of.

“I am now able to complete the PE session without choking or dizziness. You should have seen Mandy's shocked face when I first did it! Speaking of Mandy. I still don't understand how can you be indifferent to her.”

“She gets everyone, doesn't she?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Too shallow for my taste, I'm afraid.” Or who knows. Maybe one day she'll have a problem with that bright orange aura of hers, just like you have with your pink one. She may grow wings and antlers, and then I'll have to visit her. However, you'll be dead by then.

She's blushing at the conclusion that she's more exciting to me than Mandy. I leave it at that. I like the way she looks away in her shyness as she unwinds the thread that hangs from the sleeve of her sweater.

“Enjoy.” The waiter places a cup topped with whipped cream and a straw in front of her.

She leans over, sips.

“My gosh; this is more delicious than I remembered! Sometimes my brother David invites me here, but it's impossible to get bored of this taste.”

Just like I can't get bored of this view. As her evenly thick pink lips close on the white straw, sucking, they apply slight pressure to the plastic. I wonder what it would be like if she were to embrace me? I throb, can almost feel her hot, narrow mouth on my dick. She's never done it before, I'd be her first... She swallows and swallows. With the same pleasure when I devour souls.

Her aura is pulsing faster. Did she notice how absorbed I am in my thoughts?

“W-want some?“ She pushes the cup towards me.

Yes; I want you. Now.

“A little can't hurt.” I take the cup before I can give her another reason for suspicion. Let her think it was the drink that I desired.

I bring the straw to my lips, as humans do, suck in, but before it reaches my body, I block it with my tongue. I imitate swallowing. Now it's her turn to stare at my mouth with her big brown eyes.

“Anyway, as far as novels are concerned, I don't just read youth literature. It's just that Harry Potter is closely linked to my brother and the time I spent with him.”

“There's no shame in it if you like boys with glasses and scars.” I slip the mug back.

She approaches the straw, pauses for a second. Clearly embarrassed that she's going to touch it in the same place I did a while ago. I'm surprised that yesterday's lust-tornado can blush at such a coy thought. How sweet.

I run my tongue along the inside of my teeth. They pulse with desire.

“Actually, I prefer the blond bad boys.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks, I adjust a white lock of hair to my back. Even though it's meant to be innocent, such overt insinuations arouse me more than her vivacious aura. Especially from her inexperienced lips...

As soon as she realizes what has set my face aflame, she also blushes and puts her hand to her mouth, as if to retract what she has said. But it is too late.

My arousement intensifies…

Just as I am about to cross my legs, I bump into her moving leg under the table.

The hurricane comes to life, sweeps away mine.

She feels the same as I do. And tries to suppress it in the same way. The same movement, the same foot, the same time. I denied it in vain, there is no doubt about it now; that overheated energy that repulsed me so yesterday, that made me feel thrown off.

It’s my own energy.

I'm falling. Into the dark, icy depths of horror.

As if masturbating, I look into a bizarre mirror, from which a horny teenage virgin is looking back at me.

My blood gushes from my loins while she grows more and more excited. With trembling fingers, she pushes the glasses up her nose.

Her nose... That straight nose...

It’s my nose.

I instinctively touch mine, as if to check that it's still in place and hasn't moved to her face.

Cold claws of shiver scratch my spine.

Horror, disgust, rage...

The very existence of her makes a mockery of me.

Hatred arises in me.

She's merely a target, my prey, yet it's as if I'm becoming a victim of the confused emotions she evokes by the minute. I would like to lean over the table and suck the life out of her body, just to put an end to this grotesque game of nature. Here and now, in front of everyone.

However, this is not the right time or place. I force calm on myself.

“I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean it like that! It's just... my brother and I were reading it together, and we were always competing to see who'd get to the end first, and we were arguing a lot. About Draco and Harry. He hated Malfoy, while I hated Potter. So much so that I ended up writing 212 pages of fanfiction to convince him.”

“About what?”

“That there's a reason Draco is the way he is. It's not clear from the book, but I was terribly interested. Envy? Inferiority complex? Oppression by his family, incomprehension? A need to prove himself? David says he is simply evil. But life is never that simple. I don't believe that anything in the world is black or white.”

Beautiful words. But just words that many people say while in practice they do otherwise. I'd love to tell her that you're dating your father's murderer just to see the reaction. To see the horror on her face when she refutes her own statement.. I must resist the temptation. For now.

“Interesting point of view. Have you ever thought of becoming a writer?”

“Come on...” She pokes her tangled brown hair. “I wouldn't be able to create my own worlds. But even if I could, no one would care. People prefer fairy tales. Although, I'd like to learn another book-related trade. I would love to work in a printing house or a library.” She smiles. “But my parents wanted me to study law. Especially since my father died, I have no other choice if I want to make my mother happy... Oh my God, Mum!” She looks at her phone, panic gripping her. “I’m supposed to be home by now.”

It's time for me to go too; Jev needs me, but this is an opportunity I shouldn’t miss.

“I'd be happy to drive you home.” I offer.

“Thank you, that's very kind of you, but I've kept you long enough.”

“It seems to me I was the one who kept you up. Don't worry; I'm done for the day.”

“You really don’t have to, there's a bus to Hay Square in thirty minutes anyway…” Her voice trails off. She wants to spend more time with me, yet she's reluctant. It's as if she's sensed the change in me. Which is impossible; I gave no sign of it. Is she afraid of me? Or of the bike? Both, perhaps.

“I'll give you a lift if you let me. You’ll be home in 15 minutes.” I smile encouragingly.

She returns it half-heartedly, a look of doubt in her eyes, but finally she nods.