Led by the hand and her own anxious heart, Freya found herself sitting beside the young merchant boy. Like a flustered teen being alone with her crush, she glanced at him sideways at first and kept looking away as if being caught staring would spell the end for her. A strange tension had already built between the two, from a hug that lasted half an hour to the feeling of comfort felt in each other's arms.
She knew this was wrong–a woman of her age leading on the young man by not pushing back on his advances even once. And what had started as a way to comfort him as the other women were allegedly taking advantage of him, was spiraling into something more–something much-much more.
