Clara

I wake up to the incessant honking and the murmur of the awakening city, a chaotic symphony dragging me out of my dreams. The aroma of fresh coffee and warm bread invades my room, but despite the hunger that makes my stomach rumble, I can't even think about food. The expectation of another day without direction tightens my chest, a weight that only grows heavier.

The firm knock on the door breaks my reverie. It's my mother, Lucia, her voice resonating with familiar authority:

"Clara, don't forget to take my lunch to the office today! Mr. Lincon is coming back from vacation today, and I want to be helpful. Get up now. Breakfast is on the table. And don't be late!"

The sound of her hurried steps echoes down the hallway as I burrow under the covers, hiding my face. I answer, my voice still drowsy:

"I love you too, Mom."

She walks away, and silence returns for a moment, allowing me to stare at the ceiling of my room, covered in posters and mementos of an adolescence I've barely begun to leave behind. At just 18 years old, I finished high school, but the freedom I longed for didn't bring a purpose with it.

A wave of frustration washes over me. Looking around, I realize I'm stuck in a repetitive cycle: wake up, help my mom, and spend my days not knowing where to go. The idea of going to college seems not only distant but tedious, like a routine I can't even imagine.

I take a deep breath and reluctantly get out of bed, my bare feet touching the cold floor. The soft morning light enters through the window, illuminating the chaos of my room, revealing scattered clothes, unfinished books, and shattered dreams.

A cup of coffee and a warm roll await me, but I feel that more than food, I need a plan. A purpose. A path that makes me feel alive, not just surviving another day.

And so I head to the bathroom, yawning. As I enter, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My brown hair is messy, the pink streak I recently dyed shining under the light. A small rebellion amidst the monotony.

Without further ado, I head to the shower, turning on the hot water. Steam begins to rise, and I feel the tension in my shoulders slowly dissolve. As the water flows down, I close my eyes and allow the routine to become my own moment. For a few moments, I forget about the pressure, the empty days, and the expectations. It's just me, the water, and the hope that something will change.

With a slightly lighter heart, I step out of the shower, determined to face the day. As soon as I enter the room again, wrapped in the towel, my cell phone vibrates on the table, flashing. I see on the screen that it's Bruna, my friend who is studying abroad. I put it on speakerphone as I walk to the closet and answer.

📱CALL ON

"Hey, jerk," I say, smiling.

"Geez! I love you too, jerk," Bruna replies, her voice full of joy.

As I rummage through something comfortable to wear, practically stepping inside the closet, I say out loud:

"But hey, girl, how's college going?"

She smiles even wider, the excitement evident in her voice:

"It's amazing! I've already met some cute guys here. You're the only one missing, silly... but there you are, playing the rebellious girl."

I smile as I pick out a gray T-shirt and put it on. I answer, trying not to let the frustration show:

"I really don't want to go to college, Bruna. I feel like it's not for me. I want something more, you know? Something I may not even know what it is yet. But it's definitely not being stuck in these boring services."

Her voice resonates, more serious now:

"I know, Clara. But girl, you won't be young forever. And you'll need money to survive; you can't depend on your parents forever."

I think about her words as I lean on the closet door. The truth is, the future scares me. The desire for freedom clashes with the harsh reality of adult life. The dilemma forms in my mind: the need for security versus the search for purpose.

"You're right," I admit, feeling the pressure building. "But I can't see myself in a classroom, just following rules and obligations. I need to find something that makes my heart beat faster."

"Then do something, Clara! Find an internship, an activity that excites you! You need to experiment, discover what you really like," suggests Bruna, the concern in her voice evident.

I look out the window, watching the city pulsate outside, full of possibilities. Maybe I should step out of my comfort zone. The idea begins to germinate in my mind.

"I'll think about it, girl. Thanks for reminding me that I don't need to have all the answers right now."

"Always here for you, jerk! And don't forget to tell me about your plans!" she says, laughing.

📱CALL OFF

I hang up the call, feeling a mixture of anxiety and hope. Then I put on some random jeans and go downstairs for breakfast. The smell of fresh coffee greets me in the kitchen, and I sit down at the table, savoring a warm roll as my mind still dances between Bruna's words and the pressure of the day.

After eating, I get up and start tidying up the house. The chores become almost automatic: I put the dishes in the sink, fluff the couch cushions, and organize a few scattered items. The messy environment reflects my inner state, and as I organize, I feel a lightness emerge. Sometimes, small gestures are what we need to start clearing our minds.

Later, I go back to the kitchen to prepare my mother's lunch. The routine of cooking is familiar and comforting. I pick up ingredients, chopping vegetables and seasoning, almost as if the act of cooking gives me a moment of meditation.

While I stir the pan, I can't help but think about what Bruna said. I need to find something that makes me feel alive. With lunch ready, I put everything in a container and get ready to take it to the office.

Before leaving, I realize I'm not wearing a bra, one of the things I really hate. Who was the genius who invented this? Seriously, for me, it's torture. I feel uncomfortable wearing it.

"You know what, I'm going braless, screw it!" I say to myself, determined.

With this slight rebellion, I leave the house, grab my bike, and after closing the gate, I dive into the chaotic movement of the city. The fresh wind envelops me as I pedal, and the adrenaline of the moment helps to dissipate some of the anxiety.

The horns, the hurrying people, and the busy shops create an urban symphony that energizes me. Each pedal stroke is like a small cry of freedom, and for a moment, I forget about the worries and uncertainty of the future.

As I head towards the company where my mother works, I feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. The city, with all its colors and sounds, seems full of possibilities, and maybe, just maybe, I'm starting to open up to them.

I arrive at the company and park my bike, looking up at the imposing building that houses my mother's workdays. Lunch container in hand, I take a deep breath and walk in.

Since my mother has already explained where her office is, I head towards the elevator. As I approach, I see the doors closing.

"Hey, wait for me!" I shout, as if the elevator could hear me.

On impulse, I throw myself through the gap, squeezing through the opening before it closes completely. The problem is, the elevator is already going up, and I feel like I'm in one of those movie scenes, where the dramatic music plays in the background, while I literally fall on top of someone.

His large, firm hands catch me, and the scent of his cologne invades my nose, fresh and intriguing. I look up and meet his eyes, which are almost golden. I gulp, trying to process what's happening.

Mercy. It's the only thing my neurons can grasp in the face of this man's extraordinary beauty. He stares at me with an intensity that makes my heart race, and for a moment, I feel naked, vulnerable under his penetrating gaze.

Then I realize that he's still holding me, and, unfortunately or perhaps fortunately for me, his large hands are cupping my breasts, on the very day I decided to go braless. What a beautiful irony of fate, isn't it?

Lincon

As I held her breasts, the warmth of her skin radiated through her thin shirt, and the direct touch made me realize the absence of a bra. My heart raced like a drum in a silent forest, and a wave of primal instincts surged within me. It was a deep, visceral call.

I felt my wolf awaken, the beast that had always been hidden inside me. In an abrupt movement, I withdrew my hands, a sudden despair invading me, as I said:

"Be more careful, girl! This isn’t an amusement park!"

The words escaped me, more of a warning than a reprimand. The elevator reached my floor and the doors opened as if they were an emergency exit. I walked out quickly, each step long and firm, trying to ignore the confusion she left in me.

As soon as I entered my office, I locked the door and went to the large window that separated me from the pulsating city outside. I loosened my tie, feeling the heavy air of tension. It was at that moment that my wolf’s husky voice echoed in my mind, an insistent whisper that soon turned into an inner roar.

"It's her... the girl, our mate... Go after her! We need to mate with her as soon as possible."

A deep, furious sigh escaped my lips, and I exclaimed:

"No! No way! Did you realize she's a kid? Smelling like milk! I didn't feel anything, and neither did you!"

My wolf’s laugh resonated, deep and powerful, reverberating throughout the room.

"Yes, you did, Lincon. So did I. She is ours!"

Before I could protest again, he advanced, invading my being. The transformation began, and I felt my skin tighten, bones rearranging. Trying to resist, I muttered:

"What did we talk about transforming here in the office? This is unacceptable!"

"Shut up, Lincon. Your office is soundproof, it was made for that. I need to feel free. We are one, accept it."

In an instant, I faced myself in the glass, imposing in wolf form. The reflection was a combination of my human self and the beast that inhabits me, a powerful predator. As I turned, I knocked over my laptop and papers, the sound of chaos echoing around the room like an echo of my inner struggle.

"You know we share the same soul. We want her… that girl! I don't care about human rules. She will be ours!"

The connection with her was undeniable, and even I, in my human form, felt the burning attraction. It's a flame that burns intensely, threatening to consume my reason. I come from a tribe of wolves, where each child is bonded to their wolf from birth.

I ran away from that world, seeking something more, but always carrying the legacy of being the alpha’s son. Now, the shadow of the past mingled with the present in a way I could never have imagined.

I looked at the glass, reflecting not only my image, but the conflict unfolding within me. The wolf wants to break down the barriers, while my human part refuses to give in.

I am trapped between two worlds, and the only thing clear is that, somehow, this girl has become a focal point of everything I am. And, if I'm not careful, I could lose more than just control.

The desire to find her, to find out who she is, pulsed like a drum in my mind. The wolf and I know that the future cannot be ignored. In a moment of clarity, I realize that the life I chose outside the tribe may not be enough to protect me from the call of my nature.

"She is the key, Lincon. And we cannot let her escape."

My wolf’s words echoed, and against my will, I felt an irresistible urge to act.

"No…" I whispered to myself as the need to follow this instinct grew, threatening to take over.

The dilemma had only just begun, and the battle for my soul, and for hers, was about to intensify.

"You can still smell her sweet scent, can't you? Ahhh... I can smell it, Lincon, and you will bring her to us."

His words were like a hypnotic mantra in my mind. Her scent still clung to me, a mixture of freshness and vulnerability that both seduced and disturbed me at the same time.

As I struggled to return to my human form, I walked towards a small closet where I kept some clothes for these unexpected moments.

"I'm not bringing anyone, wolf. She's too young," I replied, trying to impose a rationality that seemed increasingly fragile.

As I opened the closet, the sight of the neatly folded clothes brought me brief comfort, but the tension persisted. I saw a clean shirt, the fabric against my skin reminding me that I was still human, despite the internal struggle. The wolf inside me resisted, agitated and dissatisfied.

"Too young? And who decides that? We need her! The connection is undeniable, Lincon. Don't ignore the obvious."

My hands trembled slightly as I put my tie in place, an attempt to regain some control amidst the emotional chaos. Looking out the window, the bustling city seemed distant and indifferent to my inner turmoil.

"You don't understand. This isn’t just about desire. It's about responsibility, about what this could mean for us. I can't just drag her into this world."

He laughed, a low, intimidating laugh that reverberated in my mind.

"Responsibility? She is our mate, the key to our true strength."

I felt a wave of anger and confusion. What he said was tempting, but the fear of harming her, of dragging her into a world she didn’t know, weighed on my heart.

"I can't..." I muttered, but my own voice sounded weak.

"Yes, you can. And with every passing moment, you distance yourself from her, leaving room for someone else to claim her."

The thought of someone else getting close to her triggered a surge of possessiveness that I could barely control. The wolf inside me stirred even more, desiring the union we both craved.

"All right…" I conceded, feeling the growing pressure. "But if I do this, it will be on my terms. I want to know more about her. Who she is, where she comes from, what she wants."

"Excellent. But don't forget: this can't be postponed."

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Her scent was still fresh in my memory, and I realized I couldn’t ignore the attraction that bound me to her. This internal battle forced me to confront not only my instincts, but the need to be more than a wolf running from his past.

The struggle between instinct and reason had only just begun, and, with a final glance at the city outside, I felt that the connection with that girl could change everything, for me, for her and for the wolf that inhabits me.

Clara

As I walk towards the leisure area where my mother is waiting for me, my heart still beats irregularly. The excitement I feel is almost palpable, as if each beat resonates throughout my being.

My legs feel shaky, and I look from side to side, anxious, making sure no one is watching me. A quick glance down reveals the firmness of my breasts, something I can't ignore.

"What was that?" I murmur to myself, surprised by the intensity of the feeling.

At that moment, my mother appears in front of me, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

"There you are! I was about to call you. What took you so long?" she asks, with an evaluating look.

As I open my mouth to respond, she interrupts me, and her expression changes to a mixture of concern and disapproval.

"I don't believe it! You came without a bra, Clara? It's perfectly visible that you are! Your breasts are firm!"

My face heats up at her words, and I quickly place one hand over my breasts, trying to cover the situation.

"Oh, Mom, come on! Stop it! You know I hate wearing a bra."

She steps forward, taking the container with her lunch from my hand with a firm gesture.

"Yes, but we've already talked about this. At home, it's fine, but when you go out, you need to wear one. You don't know what kind of pervert is out there."

Hearing her words, my mind wanders to the moment with that mesmerizing man.

"If he's a pervert, like the one in the elevator..."

"Clara! Clara? Are you listening to me?" my mother says, pulling me back from my reflection.

I quickly blink, trying to focus, as I say:

"What was that, Mom?"

She sighs, visibly frustrated, and turns, walking quickly ahead of me.

"Let's go. As soon as I have lunch, you can go back."

I follow her, my thoughts still confused and the adrenaline mixed with anticipation. Who is that man? The pressure of the situation seems to follow me, making each step more loaded with meaning.

As soon as we enter the leisure area, my mother chooses a table in the sun and I follow her, sitting beside her. She starts eating, while I take my phone and distract myself with some random game. The tranquility of the moment, however, is quickly interrupted.

And then, he appears again. The man I met in the elevator, this time in more casual clothes, but still eye-catching. His walk is confident, and his well-groomed hair is alluring. He exudes a masculinity that stirs me in ways I can't explain.

I gulp, feeling my heart race. My mother, noticing my silence, looks at me with a furrowed brow and asks:

"What's wrong?"

But I say nothing. She follows my gaze and, noticing the man, observes him with unexpected interest. He is talking to a young man with glasses, gesturing confidently. The magnetism that emanates from him is almost palpable, and an irrepressible impulse takes over me.

Without thinking, I open my phone's camera and take a picture of him. The click of the flash echoes through the nearly empty environment, like a gunshot. He turns in the same split second, and in a quick reflex, I throw myself to the ground, hiding behind my mother.

She panics when she sees the man's gaze and, after a brief moment of hesitation, smiles nervously, raising her phone as if taking a selfie.

"Hello, Mr. Lincon," she says, waving casually.

My eyes widen at the name. He nods slightly and turns again, followed by the young man. As I get up, I feel a slap on my arm.

"Ouch, Mom! That hurt!" I say, rubbing the spot.

She gives me a furious look, the tension between us palpable, as she says sharply:

"You're not a child anymore, Clara! For God's sake! What came over you? Do you want him to send me away?"

Then, the memories of this morning come flooding back to me. She mentioned that Lincon was back from vacation, and my heart races with the revelation.

"He's your boss?" I ask, disbelief evident in my voice.

She looks at me even more confused, her eyes wide.

"Yes! And why on earth did you take a picture of him?"

A nervous smile appears on my lips.

"He's cute, Mom... I mean, hot, isn't he?"

She shakes her head, clearly disappointed.

"Where did I go wrong with you, Clara? Where? He's much older than you, girl! Get a grip!"

I shrug, trying to remain calm.

"Don't exaggerate, Mom. He's not that old. And besides, I like older guys anyway."

My answer leaves her even more irritated, but the adrenaline of the situation makes my blood boil. I look at the picture I took of him and zoom in on the image, as if I wanted to absorb every detail.

His name flashes in my mind, as if inviting me to explore more about him. With a mischievous smile, I think:

"I certainly want to know more about you, Mr. Lincon. Just you wait."