Soft music with an emphasis on drums and deep guitar riffs ebbed through the flowing mass of settlers. It was not a genre Shar'khee could recognize, but it was one that would make her tail and hips sway to the beat, were she left on her own.

But she was not alone. Her hands held the entrancing warmth of Harrison's, his eyes locked onto her every move, directing each motion with an intent she only knew in her dreams. His teaching was smooth, but her limbs were stiff.

Every twist and pull of her lower arms crashed the sturdy ivory of her thick hip shawl against the ethereal white of his toga. Their bodies were close, scraping over one another on specific moves. She loved every second of it, yet she could not help but feel unsure.

How was she meant to have him propose when she was on the back foot through every dance? How long would his bright smile last with her inexperience? Will his patience continue for another dozen missteps of hers?

Worries echoed around her through every order of his, but she continued to try.

"Now, this'll be a bit different for me, but try an' hold my arm up above my head," the Creator requested in an accented drawl, purposefully raising his vocalizations above the music. He softly pushed her hand up from its place on his shoulder.

She did as asked, tenderly pulling his arm into the air.

"Now spin me 'round in place."

Spin? The paladin hesitated, taking a second to figure out the logistics. She awkwardly tugged his offered arm to the side, slowly pulling it in a circle with staggered jerks.

He was easily led into a full rotation, his smile blessing her eyes once more. "See! That was pretty straightforward! Just repeat the dance until you're tired. No need to be all nervous 'bout it."

Her eyes widened. "Nervous? I am not—"

"You're nervous. Every bit as nervous as I was at my first dance." Harrison let his arms fall, forming a limp bridge with his and her limbs. A sympathetic frown curled his lips. "You're as stiff as a board an' being slow to avoid makin' mistakes. I can feel it in how you squeeze my hands."

Her muscles tensed as if he ordered them to.

"This is s'posed to be something for both of us to enjoy. I don't know what's got you all tightened up, but I'd like to see you relax. I don't wanna be draggin' ya through something you ain't having fun with."

His pliable thumb digits made small circles over the back of her lower arm's palms. She took in his reflective green eyes, incapable of averting her gaze. She could not show meekness. Not now. "I assure you, I am having fun. There is nowhere else I would rather be than in your presence. So please, teach me further and let us practice… together."

Harrison's expressions softened, a familiar, comforting ambition in his eyes. "Alright. How 'bout you lead us off and practice the first dance, then? You know what to do. Put some confidence in your steps."

"Of course."

Shar'khee took in a deep breath, focusing her ears on the slow drums of the overlaid music. Her eyes blurred out the audience of Malkrin watching their exotic, tailless dance. She tenderly gripped Harrison's hands, interlacing his smaller digits between her own and laying her palms on his shoulders.

A smooth push forward with her left arm, followed by a step. The Creator followed. He subsequently pressed back, allowing her to take a pace backward. They repeated the sequence several times until it became a natural rhythm to sway in each other's arms.

"Good," he complimented, eyes on hers. "Now to the side."

She extended his arm to the left, parading his toned, feminine muscles to the crowd as she pulled him in closer, holding his chest to her waist. The draping cloth beneath her arms flowed as they shuffled side to side, each cycle outward made at a purposeful angle, drifting the two of them in a wide circle.

"There we are. Keep it goin'."

Shar'khee could hear how pleased he was. Her confidence blossomed. The sequence of his breathing matched their steps. The heat of his body pressed against her open skin. Her own purr rumbled through him. She was doing good, her movements cascading alongside his with less and less input required.

The two continued their circle, uninterrupted in their bliss.

"Back into the steps, Shar!" Harrison ordered with a smile.

She paused, swiftly taking inventory of her limbs before returning to the soft back and forth. Her swing orchestrated his motions, each sway in sync with her male and the music. It became a comforting rhythm to her. He entrusted her to their mutual intercourse and the pace, only ordering the change of movement.

He pressed himself into her, putting them back into the circle. Their limbs were locked, pristine white cloth fluttering from their shared dance. Every cycle was perfectly in sync. They were one; his will conducted her body, just as her hands guided his in a beautiful series of interlocked steps.

Harrison stopped after their third full rotation, stepping back just enough to extend the paladin's arms. "Nice, you're getting the hang of it. Let's try the waltz, now."

"As you command," Shar'khee purred, switching her grip on his hands, lightly pressing the dulled sides of her talons into his palms. She took another second to breathe and ran through the motions in her head. The paladin knew every one; she had the best teacher on Ershah to guide her… the one she knew deep within her heart as her mate.

With one step out and a gentle tug of his arm, they set off into their own world. She was free of any influence other than her dearest's whims. She was entranced. Her strides came naturally. Her cheeks stung from how wide her smile had become. His mirth had captured her entirely, turning every spin and stretch of limbs into a bout of golden chitters and laughter.

Hand in hand, they whirled throughout the dance floor, jiving with every song that seemed to put a sway in her tail and move her shoulders back and forth. Their practiced moves became natural, slowly dissolving from his taught sequences and simply melding into whichever one they desired at the time.

They were close, squeezing one another, and then suddenly swinging out wide, Harrison dangling by her digits. He was so bulky yet small, his weight and height acting as the perfect balance to her strength, letting her spin around and around in their improvised dances.

Oh, Goddess of the winds, how she loved spinning with him, blurring everything and everyone into nothingness, but leaving only his delight clear as day in her vision. It was immature and pup-like, yet so elegant in her mind. Technique and style did not matter when his joy filled her heart with twice the amount of solace.

Harrison deserved this respite just as much as she reveled in it. Her divine male, sent from the gods and forced into a position that crippled him, need not agonize over the settlement this night.

Her hands implored him to rest his weary head upon her stomach. To use her as a ballast for the circles they spun in. To let her guide his motions of joyous dance. To give her the means to make his mental pains vanish.

Her trial, her life's purpose, begged her to ease his stress. No one else could give him the love and care she would. The dedication and reverence he earned. He should be energized, overwhelmed with the same happiness he spawned in her with a singular look. So, she wrapped her finless tail around his waist and swung with him, side to side, holding him tighter than she ever had before.

The way he looked at her with such admiration and unadulterated glee made her heart skip over and over. Goddess of her trial, she wanted to see him smile like this forever. The overwhelming love behind his gorgeous green eyes was all she could ever dream of, all she fought for, and all she needed.

Never let this night end. Never let his grin vanish. Never take this overwhelming feeling burning through her chest.

She loved him. She loved every moment she spent in his presence. She loved the cruel fates and how they led her to this night.

This life she was given, her purpose to fulfill, and dearest male to serve… She loved it.

All this splendor and glory she thrived in. Her comrades and equipment… He gave it to her. So willingly, so caringly. He never had a second thought about it at all. He was perfect as a driver of her trial, a leader, and a companion.

She would give him her everything in return.

Their side-step circle slowed to a halt, exhausted breaths accentuating her worn cheek muscles and aching feet. The lack of momentum nearly brought her male to his knees, but her tail around his waist kept him upright, and her palms on his back kept him stable. She felt his heartbeat course through his ribs and within herself.

He beamed up at her, letting his torso fall further back into her care. His head subtly lolled around, certainly from the alcohol and whirls of the pair's dances, but he kept his eyes on her. There was not a sliver of worry or anxiousness in them.

Shar'khee only saw pure comfort. She could not help but lean in closer, taking in more of his features, more of his… scent, and embedding them into her memory.

The Creator squeezed her hand, signalling to let go. She complied, happily letting him slide his palm along her snout, cupping her cheek.

He absently squeezed her other hand, his gratified intent leaking between fatigued breaths. "That was… so much fun… God, Shar. We… shoulda danced way earlier… Why didn't we think of this before?"

"I know not, dearest. All I know is that I wish for us to continue." She leaned in closer, resisting the urge to nudge her snout into him.

He laughed, tracing her skin with his thumb. "You'd be flinging me 'round like a puppet show at this point. Hanging onto you's been a hell of a workout. My biceps feel like they're 'bout ready to fall right off the bone."

"Then please, leave everything to me," she assured, hoping to tempt him into more and to extend this feeling within her forever.

"Oh I'd love to, but we should really take a short break. It's been…" Harrison made to check his watch, but found his wrist to be empty. He looked back up at her, his smile barely losing its luster. "Never mind then. Doesn't matter how long it's been, we should grab some water."

Shar'khee hesitated, her limbs refusing to let go of their closeness.

He noticed, warmly leaning into her. His hot breath flowed along her muzzle. "I never said the night would end after this."

"Of course, but I would like to end our dance with this," she enticed, letting go of her inhibitions.

She licked him, from chin to forehead, in a swift motion. Her frills vibrated in the immediate excitement while she let him stand on his own.

The Creator was stunned, staring at her with a small glisten of her adoration remaining on his incredulous, yet pleased, expression. She need not hear his response, instead grabbing his waist with the plump of her tail and pulling him toward their table. The sooner he was rested, the sooner they could dance. Plus, with him being so weary, it would be proper for his guardian to caress his fatigue away, would it not? It was all the excuse she needed to keep him pressed into her, warming every part of her body.

The paladin pulled him through the various, shorter settlers, who gawked at their egress with all manner of expressions—wide-eyed shock, approving grins, disillusioned jealousy, and growing curiosity. Shar'khee cared not for what they thought. She was pleased and had her male right where she wanted.

She broke through the last of the parting females, sauntering toward the bench that would soon offer her respite and Harrison's warmth. Yet, she was stopped by a happy projection of a familiar male.

"Paladin Shar'khee! Creator Harrison!" Oliver called out.

The maroon-skinned warrior turned, met by the mated couple mere feet from her. Cera stood tall above the craftsman, their tails interlinked.

"Your dance was most excellent!" he complimented with a small slur of his excited intent, his black-skinned companion nodding in agreement. "Paladin, can we request your presence for a few minutes? We would like to talk to you!"

Shar'khee raised a brow, impatiently holding her male. "May we speak at our meal table?"

Oliver averted his gaze, speaking hesitantly. "It may be a smidgen of a private matter. But, I assure you, it will not take long. A-And it will be worth your time!"

The paladin looked back down at Harrison. His smile was gone, completely replaced by that facade of indifference she saw before. Small twitches of his brows betrayed a subtle frustration. She squeezed his waist with her tail. "Will that be an issue?"

"…Prince and his knight," he mumbled under his breath, his intent barely leaking out of him before he looked up at her. "It's… fine. Take all the time you need. I'll… I'll be here."

"Your time is not to be wasted, dearest. I shall return promptly."

= = = = =

Harrison returned to the center of the party, the mass of colored skin and gowns only accentuating the spinning in his head. He could have sworn he was only mildly buzzed when he left to dance with Shar. Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up? At least the Malkrin didn't have eight arms in his state.

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He shuffled between thick tails and splayed talons like obstacles, narrowly avoiding becoming collateral in a female's odd gyration of a dance. Tracy was bound to be around here somewhere. She wasn't by the table, nor anywhere in sight, either.

He promised her a dance. She deserved a dance.

…That's what he told himself, anyway. He couldn't bear to sit alone and drink, much less go out of his way to watch Shar slipping away from… his grasp.

He drew in a deep breath. Just a prince and his knight. He knew she wouldn't be returning to him anytime soon.

The crowd around him was a tangle of loose limbs, people standing still and laughing, and those who twirled without a care for who was near them. The sights played out in a blur.

Gossamer sheer trailed from the dances.

Plump yet muscled thighs stepped in front of his path.

Drapes of cloth, hanging from various colored arms, acted like curtains.

He could have sworn he saw a flutter of the grease bunny's phthalo green dress through it all. Her black hair and lipstick appeared between a wagging tail and metal gauntlets.

He followed it, squeezing between two massive females in the way. One of them caught his hand. Another tail pressed over his shoulders as he was pulled into a more open clearing. The black-skinned Malkrin held out her other hand for him, and he absently grabbed it, letting himself be swayed side to side with a cool palm placed on his lower back. It was the same dance he taught Shar earlier…

The motions were nice, a small reprieve, though his eyes were elsewhere. It was the radiant ivory of Tracy's skin within the smear of colors in the gathering that stole his attention. He swiftly apologized and slipped out of the woman's tail.

Harrison followed the direction, gently pushing his way through clumped groups and around talking partners. However, the woman he was looking for wasn't there; she had left as a mirage. He turned around, barely picking out a glimpse of silken black hair.

More spinning, more tail dodging, and another courteous dance—this time with a male. There was nothing but Tracy's facades on the dance floor. He was left aimless and anxious, a thousand thoughts tearing him down from the absolute high of dancing with Sharky. It hurt him to think about what Oliver needed to tell her in private, and the guilt of leaving Tracy by herself burned through him just the same.

God, it was like he'd just woken up from a bad nap with a good dream, suddenly drowning in sweat, agonizing through a headache, and the weight of reality suddenly thrust into him—

He saw it again: a rich green dress and pale skin. There was a frown on her face, etched with black glossy lipstick. Her eyes drew a subtle melancholy, working hand in hand with the dejection of her tented brows.

She stared into him, sending a dagger into his heart with a singular look of despair. Her expression abruptly switched before it cut any deeper, replaced by a flat determination he'd seen before…

A wide frame of orange skin crossed between the two of them for a fraction of a second, but it was all the time Tracy needed to disappear.

He stumbled forward, darting to where she had just been.

She was right there. He could reach her. They would dance, and he'd forget about everything else. She would be happy. Sharky's mating wouldn't hurt to think about.

Harrison squeezed through the last set of cloth and skin, frantically scouring for another glimpse. Warm skin snagged his wrist. He tried to ignore it, shooting off an apology to the assumed Malkrin trying to dance and squeezing away to where Tracy was.

But it was warm. His mind's mechanisms cranked into a higher gear, piecing together the components of his confusion.

He whipped his head around to the ensnaring hand's origin. His eyes lit up when he saw a deep green dress and familiar black hair. "Tracy!"

She only offered a shy smile, tugging on his arm, asking him to follow. He did so, letting her pull him away from the crowd and back into the open area. The expanse of tables and warm lighting allowed him to breathe and resettle his spinning mind from the onslaught of colors and motion.

Tracy turned around, still holding onto his wrist. Her expression was dulled, but he could see a hopeful curiosity in her half-raised brows. "Hey… You wanna get away from the settlers for a bit and… I don't know… Find someplace quiet and have a drink?"

"But what about the dance?" Harrison asked, his thoughts reaching his mouth before his brain.

She shook her head. "Let's just chill for a moment."

"…Alright, yeah. I'm happy to do that."

The dressed-up grease bunny pulled him along once more, grabbing a bottle of rum on the way out. He thought she meant a quiet corner of the mess hall, but, to be fair, the music was a bit loud, so he let her lead him through the hallway connecting to the next domicile over. She only let go of his wrist when they sat down on the massive couch in the common room.

The cushion beneath him was just as comforting as the rustic fireplace in front. He dropped his head onto the backrest and closed his eyes for a moment… which was a horrible idea, as vertigo immediately sent him reeling in the absence of vision. He gave up with a sigh and rested his arm atop the more human-sized armrest, nesting himself into the corner of the furniture.

Tracy plopped down and scooted close, offering the bottle of rum. He hummed his appreciation and took a small sip before handing it back. The taste hardly registered with his tongue.

The technician studied him for a moment, curiosity in her lingering gaze, before she pressed herself into his side. Her skin was hot and welded to his with a subtle layer of sweat. "I thought you were enjoying the holiday. What gives?"

She stared into the fire just as he was, letting her head drop onto his shoulder when it was obvious he had no answer to give. Something in her actions spawned a subtle anxiousness in him, as if he was forgetting something. But he ignored it entirely. He wanted someone close.

Tracy took another drink, raising both brows just to look up at him. "What's got you all quiet all of a sudden? I could've sworn you were yappin' at dinner."

"I'm just tired," he deflected.

"You're always tired, man. You don't even sleep half the nights," she chastised in a grumble, letting out a huff of exasperation.

"I sleep most nights."

The technician's voice took on a more caring tone. "You know what I meant…" She swished the bottle around in thought, watching the liquid edge the rim. "I was happy seeing you smile earlier. It looked genuine when you were dancing."

He hummed, letting her continue.

"Wish I could've done that for you. You know, get you out of being tired and stressed all day."

He sighed. "I offered you to dance… And, I'm not 'tired and stressed all day' every day. I manage just fine."

"Do you?" She eyed him skeptically, a concerned frown over her lips. She shuffled and sat up to rest more of herself onto him, supple flesh and bone pressing into his side. "You worry me, Harrison."

'Harrison.' She never used his name; hearing it out loud kick-started his heart. "…I don't mean to."

"I mean, I work just as long and hard as you do, but it's not like I'm making any decisions. You're left with work and planning and everything. I can't blame you for being exhausted."

He just looked the other way. The technician's chest vibrated with her 'hmph' of disappointment at his lack of reaction. What did she want him to say? Her bringing it up did just that—bringing it up. He hated that immediate stress it spawned, leaving him to internally hiss at it and open his palm for the bottle of rum.

Tracy handed it to him, not-so-subtly wrapping her now free arm around his own as he burned his throat some more. "Why'd you even come here?"

Harrison froze.

"This isn't how it was supposed to turn out, but like—" she nuzzled her cheek into his shoulder, subtly mumbling her soft voice as she let every thought leave her tongue unimpeded. "—doing this at all is insane, even outside the hell we've been through. I didn't have shit back in Sol, but you had something, didn't you? You never mentioned anything happening to your parents or job or anything…"

Harrison took a long, drawn-out breath. Every memory before he was dragged out into this snowballing of events flashed at him: the internal affair officers showing up at Callisto's orbital refinery, the accusations about his mother, and the offer… "I did it for my folks."

He felt her smile grow on his shoulder. "That's… sweet. Cute, even. What'd they even offer you? We're not even getting paid."

"Nothin' with money," he deadpanned, staring up at the ceiling.

"Mmmmm… whaddya mean?"

"The M.I.A. suspected Ma was talkin' with Slavic-Europans—my grandpa. They said she'd be cleared if I went along. Called it 'a loyalty to the Martian state.'"

"What the fuck?" Tracy took her head off his shoulder, replacing it with a tense hand. She stared at him in disbelief, her brows furrowed and eyes sharpened. "Wait. Wait wait wait. You were blackmailed?"

The toga-wearing engineer looked back at her, indifferent. It'd been a while since he had to really think about it. Years, even. The whole situation had settled in his mind long before he crash-landed. "That's the word you'd put to it, yeah."

Her grip on him tightened. "And you never thought to mention that or bring it up until now?"

All Harrison could give her was an impassive expression and a half-shrug. "Why would I? Had two years of trainin'. And, there's been a hell of a lot of events since. 'S been a while since I've even thought about it. Last time being when they let me call my folks before the send-off."

He looked back to the fire, absently feeling the neck texture of the bottle and missing Tracy's head on his shoulder. "Honestly, I'm more curious 'bout why they chose me of all people. There're plenty of engineers. Did they want someone disposable? Was it because of my parents? I used to think about that kinda thing durin' the quiet hours and sleepless nights before the warp."

A sliver of sardonic humor slipped between the cracks of his careless voice. "Y'know, maybe they really expected the pioneering expedition to be expendable. The main colony seemed just fine without us, right? Or, at some point. Like seriously, think about this—and no offense—the colony overseers must've been insane from the get-go, considerin' who they hired: A hover-car repair shop grease bunny whose only robotic tinkering experience is because she's a huge weeb. A factory automation engineer with anger issues and a track record to match. A semi-unremarkable hydroponics worker who still lives with his parents. And, an alcoholic chemist with a knack for burnin' down labs."

He poked into the technician's chest with the side of his arm, taking in how she looked at him curiously, genuinely listening to what he was saying. "I mean, Trace, you were definitely a fantastic choice, and I'm sure the others were too, if… Yeah… Anyway, what I'm getting at is that I don't know everything and at this point it's beyond considering."

The engineer held his unanchored arm out, palm up, in defeat. "I don't care. It's whatever. I've been told what to do, and I've been goin' through life the same way for twenty-six years."

He put up emotionless air quotes. "'Study at school extra hard to go to college early.' 'Start your career early and work as you're getting your degree.' 'Go make factories on an alien planet.' It's the same. My parents are the only important thing I've left back in Sol, but they're why I'm here, so…"

Harrison let his head fall onto the backrest, with a deadened 'fwumph' of the pliant material. Tracy slowly detached her hands, sliding them over his chest and around his shoulder in a tender hug. Her forehead tapped his temple, a disheartened whisper barely reaching his ears. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head softly, trying not to jostle hers. "Don't be."

"No, it's just… I…" The technician's hands curled around the parts of him that they could hold and squeezed, her hesitance withering away. "I said it before; I wish I could help you more. Make you happy. Make everything suck less… Even more now, actually."

The engineer could barely see the edges of the pale woman's face in his peripheral vision. A familiar unease crept into him, contrasting the warm closeness she offered. His free arm itched to give back into her touch. Yet, a flash… a memory of maroon skin and white cloth made him hesitate. He sat still, trapped in his skin and indecision.

"You know…" the black-haired beauty drawled, rubbing his neck. "We already spend a lot of time together on projects, at meal times… in bed."

Harrison's palms felt clammy. Where did his sudden restlessness come from? What was he missing? Why was Shar, of all people, on his mind? He felt like a statue on the couch, becoming an observer to a slow-motion hovercar crash. His hands were on the controls, but they were frozen in place.

"I get along with you. Your jokes, your music taste, that sweet part of you that you keep covered for some reason…" She poked his bicep, her soft chuckle melting into his ears and her voice taking on an eager lilt. "You've been my shoulder to cry on for every bump in the road, and I've worked my ass off to compliment everything you do… We actually smile a lot more when we're working together. Have you noticed that? I have. You even seem a little more relaxed too, but… "

His heartbeat raced to a crescendo he knew was coming. Bit by bit, his uncertainty came together to form a clearer picture.

"…I don't think that's enough. I know you need more than that. I need more, too. We don't have to stay like this. In limbo, locked away from that more we want."

Harrison wasn't ready to respond.

Tracy took in a soft breath. "You've made this whole situation more of a dream than a nightmare… I like you. A lot. Let me do the same for you."

"I know," he let slip in a flat tone, his mouth working faster than his brain… Fuck.

The dressed-up technician pulled her head back, away from him, stunned. He glanced at her, his heart wrenching at the immediate misstep. Her face scrunched up in bewilderment. "You… knew? …What do you mean you knew? Like, that I was coming onto you? You've been as dense as a neutron star. I've done everything but admit it, thinking you needed another push because you've been getting diddled by all the bullshit of leading a settlement!"

He guiltily put up his hands to placate her, dropping the rum bottle onto the cushions. "Well… Yes, I knew about how you felt…"

She pushed off of him, severing every point of contact and sitting on her knees. Her confused brows furrowed into pain and irritation, her swift, blank statement matching in tone. "So you've just led me on for several weeks. Okay."

"No, no no no. God, no. It's that… It's…" His mouth was open, but no explanation came out. Was he?

Tracy paused, staring at him in utter disbelief. She hissed and leaned back with an agonizing groan, pressing her palms into her face. Her voice was muffled, cracking in a cry. "Fuck! Billions of light-years away from Sol, and it's just the same! And I was just starting to think that maybe it was mutual!"

Harrison clenched his teeth, his back pressing into the armrest as he tried to think for a fraction of a second. But nothing quite fit together, his tied tongue only dribbling out the words that seeped into the surface of his mind. "It is mutual. It's just not—" he struggled to find the words. "—feasible?"

The distraught woman slumped onto the couch's massive backrest, taking a singular hand off her face and revealing tears of smeared eyeliner. Her face trembled between anger and devastation. "What the hell does that even mean?"

He held a hand out, defeat and empathy in his tone. "Trace, we're… we're fundamentally fucked people. Is shared trauma and stress any way to start a relationship?"

Her brows pinched together, utter incredulity taking place over her irritation. "Fucking what? What are you on about? We rely on each other! That's completely different!"

"Don't you think all the stress and nearly dying is pushing us together? What if things go bad down the line?"

Tracy sniffled. "Isn't that how most relationships work? I'm ninety percent sure you're just projecting! This isn't some off-the-cuff 'trauma bonding' or whatever you'd call it! We've spent literal weeks worth of time talking and working together!"

She sniffled once more, the rejection in her wet eyes swiftly turning to stubbornness as she continued to shoot down his arguments. "I know I love you because I'm addicted to just talking to you! I love being with you! I love your presence and how you make me smile a-and your… wide shoulders!"

"I-I don't know exactly why you'd love me, but that's why I love you," she cried. "We have a genuine connection. At least, in my mind."

Harrison's threw together the fragments of his strained reasonings. "But… You would… How could I even make you happy? I work the whole day and anything else is pushed to the side!"

Tracy scoffed, shaking her head. "You already make me happy! Relationships aren't all about appeasement and bending backwards!"

She shot a hand out wide. "We already spend hours together a day! This isn't some big commitment; it's just letting me cross this fuckass barrier. It's more stress relief and more love and more smiling and more everything! You just have to let me!"

Harrison stared back at her, unable to find a single word to say. Why was he so desperate to find a case against her? Why couldn't he just give in to Tracy? Why did he hesitate to show how he felt about her? How much he would reciprocate everything.

And yet, why did he feel the same guilt as he did before? As if she never shot down his arguments?

"I mean, you said it was mutual, dummy," Tracy reminded him again, leaning closer with an expectant look. "So…?"

"You're… not wrong," the engineer admitted hesitantly. He sat up and held onto the backrest. Half of him screamed at his actions, telling him he was missing something, while the other half urged him forward, wanting exactly what he knew came next.

Tracy hummed her approval. She leaned forward, pressing her palms to his shoulders.

Harrison couldn't move. Something was missing. It felt wrong. He loved Tracy, but with things moving faster than his mind could work… He would lose something. There was more on the line if he gave in to her.

"Just for tonight… Just for now, I'll show you what we could have," the grease bunny flirted, crossing the already tiny distance between their faces.

Black lips inched closer. Hot breath settled along his skin. Glistening brown eyes bored into his own, infatuated and yearning for a taste. Racing heartbeats pulsed through his ears. So close… so alluring, yet so dangerous.

Harrison held onto her waist, a frozen grip incapable of making a decision… a decision she made for him.

Warm. Passionate. Greedy. She eagerly delved into him with a kiss, pressing her entire body into him. His eyes widened as hers closed. Hot hands gripped his shoulders ever tighter.

The engineer softly gave in, returning her motions and loosely holding her waist against his. Yet, he couldn't shake that same damn feeling! Harrison felt his brows furrow. Why? Where did it come from?

It only grew worse as an uncomfortable familiarity spiked along his neck and put the hairs on end… It was the same as before; the ardor and love Tracy thrust into him felt no different than the poorly-restrained lick Shar gave him after their dance.

Sharky. His savior, closest friend… and the woman he loved.

All the guilt collapsed his senses. He paused completely. It was Shar. This entire time, it was always Shar. The pain of seeing her off with Oliver and the personal choice to leave her…

It hurt. It crushed his chest down into his stomach and tensed every muscle in his body.

…He couldn't deal with it.

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