It was a month later that Dallas finally turned on that phone.
The peacekeeping forces ultimately decided not to evacuate. They had only moved in a month ago, with the camp barely set up, and relocating again would be too costly. Besides, there was no certainty that those few rebels were even targeting them specifically. Dallas's mercenary team took on the outermost patrol duties, dividing into three groups, rotating shifts 24/7. They slept with their shoes on, wary of ambushes that might catch them off guard.
Everyone was on edge, and Dallas, as the team leader, felt the pressure even more intensely.
After six weeks of heightened vigilance, they had yet to spot any suspicious figures. Only then did everyone feel they could breathe a little easier, and bits of laughter started returning to the dining table.
Dallas quickly finished his meal and returned to his room, once again pulling out the satellite phone.
The phone remained silent.
Six weeks, forty-one days, and she hadn't called once.
The scene of their parting was vivid in his mind. Her red lips had parted, telling him to come back soon… If it was true, then why was there no sign of her after they separated?
She went back, back to her glittering world, leaving him behind, right?
Dallas's gaze dropped unconsciously, his jawline tightening as a surge of frustration verging on anger rose within him. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to rein in his emotions and avoid looking this pathetic.
Knowing he shouldn't expect anything, he still dug out the Apple phone from the depths of the drawer, hesitating for a long moment before pressing the power button.
The screen lit up suddenly, making him squint.
After what felt like an eternity of searching, a single bar of signal finally appeared in the top right corner.
A voice inside told him not to be so pathetic, not to open her chat, but his finger pressed down anyway. The chat history still only showed the two words he had sent: "Dallas."
Before they parted, he had sent her a message from this phone to give her the number, but she hadn't replied.
Maybe she hadn't even saved it.
One minute, two minutes… Time ticked by, and Dallas didn't even know what he was waiting for. Each time the screen dimmed, he'd light it up again, his thumb pressing mechanically out of sheer stubbornness.
Buzz.
The faint vibration jolted his numb nerves awake.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the phone started vibrating non-stop. One photo after another popped up, too fast for him to see, each one pushed aside by the next.
More than ten photos in total, finally freezing on an almost fully naked backside.
Dallas's pupils contracted, and he blinked, scrolling back to the beginning of the photo sequence.
The first photo was of lips—her lips; he recognized them instantly.
The corners of her lips, painted with rose-colored lipstick, were slightly upturned, suggesting a good mood—or maybe not. She was skilled at hiding malice behind a smile, gently pressing people into a corner.
The second was of an ear, with a finger visible, tucking her hair back to reveal the whole ear. She tilted her head deeply, showing him only one ear, nothing more.
The third photo captured her chin, the fourth her collarbone, and the fifth drifted lower to her chest. Fingers pulled her neckline down, revealing the soft fullness without a bra, the fabric clinging precariously, hinting at the barest glimpse of skin beneath.
Dallas's breath grew heavier, his gaze lingering on that small, tender flush of pink for a long moment.
There was more than one photo of her chest, each avoiding full exposure. Some showed her in a thin nightgown with a visible outline; in others, her fingers covered the nipples…
Next were shots of the curve beneath her breasts, her lower abdomen, her thighs, and a series focused on her back side—starting with regular underwear, then with the edge lifted, and finally in a thong.
The thin black straps wedged between her cheeks, barely concealing anything at all.
Dallas swallowed hard, his pale eyes fixed intensely on the last photo. After a long moment, he dropped his head, resting his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in the shadows.
At first, seeing the photos had made him happy—an inexplicable kind of happiness. But the more he looked, the more he began to question.
Why didn't she say anything to him? Why only these photos of her body?
The timing of the photos was inconsistent—three sent in one day, then nearly a week between two others.
Was she just sending him a photo whenever she remembered, just to tease him, and then completely forgetting him whenever something else came up?
Dallas sank into a spiral of self-loathing. He was unhappy with no news, unhappy when he did get something, spiraling in petty frustration, hardly acting like a man. But he couldn't help wondering: what did she see him as? A boyfriend?
At that thought, a realization hit him—she'd never said it. She'd only ever told him she needed him, wanted him by her side, but she'd never called him her boyfriend.
A heavy pressure clenched in his chest, and he froze at the edge of the bed, struggling to breathe.
And worse yet, he was hard.
He didn't know exactly which photo had done it, but his erection pressed stiffly against his pants.
Dallas fell back onto the bed, gripping his phone, covering his eyes with one hand, waiting for the heat to dissipate. But the more he waited, the harder he got, as the images of her photos seemed burned into his mind, running a slideshow he couldn't control.
The next day, no new photo arrived.
By late night, he lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, it was her photos he saw. Feeling the blood rushing, Dallas got out of bed and dialed that number he knew by heart.
The line rang several times before her voice finally came through. "Hello?"
"It's me." Dallas spoke after a moment, his voice rough and unrecognizable.
"Who's this?"
Dallas's heart clenched sharply, a sudden, intense pain spreading through his chest as if he'd been stabbed.
*
The other end of the line went suddenly silent, not even a breath was heard. Averi realized she might have taken the joke too far and quickly said, "Just teasing you, Dallas, I know it's you."
Settling into a comfortable position, Averi's voice turned sweetly reproachful, "And here you are, finally reaching out. I thought you'd forgotten who I even was."
Dallas could hear faint rustling on the other end; the signal wasn't great, her voice laced with a slight static buzz, which only made it sound all the more alluring.
Dallas lowered his eyes, waiting a moment before replying, "I haven't." His voice was a bit cold.
How did it turn into him ignoring her, when she was the one who'd gone silent?
Averi huffed, "Then why did it take you so long to call me?"
The line fell silent again. Averi lay back, patiently listening to the rise and fall of his breathing, which even paused for a few seconds, as though he were trying to hold something back.
He said nothing, and neither did she, the only sound between them the soft crackling of static.
A phrase lingered on Dallas's lips, and logic told him not to say it, but he couldn't hold it back: "You didn't call me, either."
As soon as she heard that, Averi's pretend complaint took on a sharper edge. "Dallas, you're the one who told me to only call on the satellite phone if it was urgent. Doesn't that mean to keep it to a minimum? How was I supposed to know what was going on with you? What if you were on a mission, and I called out of nowhere and blew your cover?"
If she didn't care about him, why would she send so many photos? It's not like she was some adult film star.
Dallas froze, realizing that his six weeks of torment had been self-inflicted.
His palms grew faintly sweaty, and after a long pause, he finally managed, "No, Averi, I didn't mean you should barely call."
Listening to his slightly erratic breathing, Averi could practically picture his expression—trying to seem composed but actually thrown off. Feeling her irritation subside, she pressed further, "Alright, forget the calls. What about the messages? Why didn't you reply?"
It was a checkmate. Dallas was at a loss for words.
