Chapter 3: Slithering Boundaries

Jason left me alone with the little snake. Just me, a queen-sized bed, and a reptile eyeing me like I was the one in its terrarium.

Besides its constant tail-rubbing, it didn’t actually do anything wild. It just sat there, all coiled up, looking at me with that eerie, unblinking stare.

“Why do you keep rubbing me like that…” I muttered, watching the snake shift its tail against my wrist.

The snake was silent, almost contemplative, its head cocked in a way that made me think it was listening. Weird.

That’s when a glowing line of text flashed in front of me:

[Because he wants to teach you a lesson.]

Teach me a lesson? My skin prickled, and I shook my head. What’s that supposed to mean?

Another line popped up: [Girl, dare to touch where it’s rubbing you? There’ll be a surprise.]

I rolled my eyes. “What is this, a prank show?” But curiosity is a powerful drug. So, with one finger, I poked the spot the snake kept rubbing.

At that exact moment—

In Jason’s room.

“Mm…”

In the dusky half-light, Jason sat on the carpet by his bed, shirt hanging open, breathing heavy. His jeans were bunched awkwardly, layers of fabric tangled around his waist and thighs. Sweat beaded at his hairline.

“Damn.”

His cheeks were crimson. His chest heaved, and his fists clenched at his sides.

He muttered, voice low and shaky: “Aren’t you afraid of snakes?”

“Why are you touching yourself?”

The words hung in the air, thick with longing and frustration. Touching is one thing, but this—the distance, the wanting, not being able to enjoy—was torture.