Star-Worthy Showdown: Stellar Aces
We sat at a couple of matching chairs behind the stall, and I couldn't help but feel anxious. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement as the final moments before Manchester Sci-Fi '23 opened. The vendors either sat like my dad and me, displaying their goods on their tables, or were milling about, chatting, and reuniting with old friends. I glanced around at the other stalls, adorned with merchandise towering well above head level, colorful advertisements, and decorations. Sadly, our stall only had a black tablecloth embellished with stars and a wooden stand featuring some of my father's best artwork. Also on the table, was a stack of books, my source of pride: Stellar Aces: The Next Generation. This was a 120,000-word book I'd written following the story of pilots fighting extraterrestrial creatures in the depths of space. The artworks, crafted by my dad, were highly detailed and accurate depictions of the spaceships from the original series, which had sparked intense debate on the Stella Ace Forums.
"Excited?" questioned my father, noticing my tenseness.
"I think so," I replied, attempting to adjust the angle of the most prominent book on the stack, Stellar Aces: The Next Generation, adorned with a cover my father had drawn depicting the main character, Cath, seated in the cockpit of the Scarlet Dawn with her golden hair draped around her face as she fiercely tugged the control stick. My father wasn't the best with people, but his art was still impressive and gave the illusion of professionalism. For the last two years, I had devoted my time to writing while my father acted as my creative consultant. Meanwhile, the other high school kids spent their time playing first-person shooters or engaging in typical teenager activities like socializing.
"You have nothing to fear," my father assured me as he placed his hand on my shoulder. "People are generally very kind at these conventions."
At 11:00 am, the doors swung open, kicking off the start of the event. Having expected a massive wave of people, I was surprised to see them trickle in instead. Most of them immediately passed by the tables to my left and right, none of them making their way to our somewhat obscure stall. While my father settled into reading Stellar Aces III: Striking Out, I felt increasingly uneasy.
"I'm just running to the bathroom," I blurted out, pushing myself away from my chair.
"Go for it," my father said, not even taking his eyes off the book.
In the empty gender-segregated restroom, I splashed water on my face, attempting to calm my nerves.
"Pull yourself together," I advised myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Although I was by no means hideous, I was unsuccessful in school sports, and never could find a girlfriend. My father claimed that my perfect partner would come along when the time was right, but I had major doubts. The girls weren't interested in the slightest in someone who spent his evenings perfecting the script of a fanfiction. Still, I never mentioned my books at school, so shying away from social suicide. As I approached eighteen, I had a new start at Liverpool's university with its sci-fi society, a community of like-minded people gathering for weekly gatherings. I didn't have to think about my past anxieties.
When I reentered the convention hall, I smoothed down the black shirt I was wearing that read 'Never Allow Adversity to Triumph', a well-known Stellar Aces quote that resonated deeply with the fans.
"Congratulations," my father remarked proudly, pointing to an empty slot on our table where one of my books used to be. "First ever sale."
I gaped at the empty space. "No way?"
He smiled. "Yep. This guy was checking out the artwork, but he was intrigued by your books and snagged one right away."
"Wow, how fantastic," I stammered. I sat down in my chair and resumed selling other people's books, admiring the increasing flow of attendees.
"Let's make these books sell; it's getting busier," my father said encouragement.
At The Next Generation, I sold way more books than I had anticipated. If I had sold just ten, I would've been ecstatic, but within an hour, I had sold a crate of twenty and sold out of my second batch. Meanwhile, my dad's artwork was moving a little slower, but he was charging significantly more than my books and when he did make a sale, he received a considerable sum.
During the downtime after lunch when the crowd thinned, I was in high spirits. My dad offered to man the stall while I roamed the convention, but I preferred chatting with fellow Stellar Aces enthusiasts. Some were merely acquaintances Dad knew from online forums with no intention of buying anything, but it was exhilarating meeting real-life admirers of our shared interest.
That's why I was grinning when I spotted her. But my heart sank as I realized it was her.
Brianne Waters.
She was the eye-catching blonde from my school year. Blue-eyed, beautiful. Rumor had it she'd had an intimate encounter with another popular girl, Taylor Sandford, during her eighteenth birthday party. She spent her free time with a posse of equally stunning friends and dated Robbie Holdman, considered the most handsome boy by all the girls. As a member of that clique, she belonged nowhere near Manchester Sci-Fi '23.
I averted my eyes instinctively before sneaking peeks at her again. Yes, it was her. She walked alongside a woman who appeared to be her mother, and I froze when I noticed what she was wearing.
It was a spacesuit.
And not just any suit. It was a Stellar Aces spacesuit. An automatic force managing envelope, or AFME, and the number on the arm confirmed it was the suit worn by Suzie Dyer, celebrated pilot from the initial Stellar Aces book. This trumped any surreal dream. This was real life, and I was wide awake, which only made it more disturbing than if it was just a dream.
As if things couldn't get worse, Brianne caught my gaze and understanding flashed across her face.
"Hey, Paul," she said, smiling as they approached our booth. "I never thought I'd find a Stellar Aces stall here."
Dumbfounded, I didn't know what to say, and my speechless state remained.
"Hi," my dad greeted, nonchalantly. "Do you know Paul?"
"He was in my math class," Brianne replied. "Did your dad illustrate these?"
"Yes," my dad confirmed. "I have more pieces in a box, so just ask if you like a specific vessel. I also do commissions."
Brianne's mother scrutinized one of the prints. "I didn't know the Fatal Foxtrot had a dorsal fin," she remarked, scrutinizing one of the prints.
"It shelters the radar shields," my dad answered hastily. "Mentioned in Stellar Aces XI: Fight for Survival."
Brianne stole another glimpse of me and smiled. She was magnificent. Her makeup was subtle, yet stunning: batwing eyeliner, mascara-coated lashes, a hint of color on her lips, and a touch of concealer to accentuate her eyes. Her allure prevailed regardless of my studies being unnoticed by her classmates.
"Wow, you wrote this?" she enquired, snatching one of my books.
I hesitated before admitting it. I didn't want my fellow students to know about my writing. But here, in the convention, anonymity vanished.
"Yep, that's me," I said nervously.
"This is quite something," Brianne remarked, eyeing Cath on the cover. "Your dad drew this?"
"Yeah," I murmured, unable to think of anything else besides how stunning she was. The suit complemented her figure, like in the novels, and she was in such phenomenal shape. Her bosom was mesmerizing; her hips enticing; her legs appealing. I fought hard not to stare, but failed completely.
"This is remarkable," Brianne assessed, her tone sincere. "I didn't realize you were so into Stellar Aces."
"Uh, yeah," I replied, feeling the flush on my face.
Brianne noticed my gaze. "Yeah, my mom made that costume. She's really talented. She'll be hosting a workshop later today; we're just browsing before it starts."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Wow, it's incredible. So detailed!"
Brianne beamed. "I guess I resemble her," she pointed at Cath on the book's cover. "Right?"
"Um, yeah, you're similar."
"Neat coincidence! I should show this off like she's advertising your book." She chuckled while holding the book in her white pilot gloves.
I felt like a fool.
"I'll participate in the costume contest if you're watching it."
"Maybe, I might."
We endured another awkward silence, and she set the book down once her mother and my father finished their conversation. With a final smile, she disappeared. I envied her departure, wishing I could do more than admire her from afar.
"She's nice," my father said, but a new customer interfered with any further conversation.
Making subtle reference to the convention schedule, I saw the costume contest in the main hall from 2-3 and the costume workshop afterward from 3:15-5:15. Despite my thriving fanfiction career, I couldn't stop fantasizing about Brianne. At 1:45, I requested permission from my father.
"Sure, text me if you need help."
Reluctantly, I abandoned our stall. I desperately tried not to appear conspicuous as I approached the main hall. Naturally, my concerns were meaningless since no one seemed invested in my actions. Throughout high school, I never would've had more than a passing curiosity about Brianne; everyone knew she was attractive, but she had her friends, while I was ignored, and that was it. Even in our shared math class, I sat on the opposite side of the room and almost never interacted. The sight of her dressed up as the characters I had spent years imagining and writing about, though, roused my appetites. I needed to see her face again. And why not? She had invited me, so it was probably normal.
The competition commenced promptly at 2 p.m., and the host, a middle-aged lady wearing a Yoda shirt, attempted to stir the crowd's excitement. The entrants were divided into low-effort and high-quality categories. The low-effort ones included poorly done imitations of characters' outfits, but the high-quality ones were stunning, and Brianne's intricately crafted pilot suit was overshadowed by a few astonishing outfits. Despite her mesmerizing presence on the runway, lit up by her flowing blonde hair, she derived third place with a shimmering smile and a wave to the audience.
I watched her walk towards the side of the hall and sit on an empty chair while examining her phone. After five minutes of waiting, I mustered up the courage to approach her and dismissed all instincts pleading for me to leave. I made my way over to her.
"Hello," I offered, regretting my decision.
She looked up and smiled, which was all it took to justify my endeavor. "Hello, did you vote for me?"
"Yes, you should've won."
She laughed and smiled. "Those other costumes were dazzling. I got lucky with third place."
I sat next to her, trying to subtly avoid looking at her. She turned off her phone and stored it away, and I noticed that she was slightly rosy-cheeked, as if she'd been exercising earlier.
"This is a great costume," I said, realizing I was running out of things to say.
"Thanks, but my mom's the real talent. I just pose."
"Have you ever read Stellar Aces?" I asked.
"Once, cover to cover," she corrected me.
Once, her father likely read the whole series multiple times.
Another pause passed, and I remembered, "Are you excited about starting university?"
"No, I don't want to discuss it," she replied promptly.
At this point, "Would you like to get a drink or explore together?" Sinngled. "I wouldn't mind walking around."
"Won't you attend your mom's workshop?"
"No, I've already been."
With my heart beating, I confronted her. "Hello."
She gazed up and smiled earnestly. "Hello, did you vote for me?"
"Yes, you should have won."
Watching her laugh and respond, "Those other costumes were amazing. I'm just fortunate to finish third." She beamed.
"I'm excited for university," I muttered, hoping to direct the conversation.
"Not really," she murmured, her voice wavering. "Let's check out these cosplays, shall we?" She gestured to the competition.
I followed her, unable to take my eyes off her.
"My mom made this." She pointed at her stunning outfit.
"Amazing! Should we explore a bit more?"
"Yes."
Our day unfolded as we toured the convention, chatting and sharing about each other's interests. For once, I felt like an unstoppable force of nature, I could accomplish anything; and with her by my side, life truly felt worth living.
We snagged two bottles of bubbly drinks from a vending machine and Brianne was insistent on covering the cost herself. As we strolled, our silence was only broken when an exciting or unusual sight caught our eyes. I was certain of her thoughts: "This gathering is dreadfully dull, leading me to befriend this unlucky urban nerd." I couldn't help but worry about her upcoming conversations with her friends. Had she revealed her visit to a nerdy convention? Or had she feared their disapproval? If it was the latter, my image was about to get zapped, but not by individuals I'd ever chance on.
Around a curve we chanced upon a quieter region of the event space and only a few straits stood between me and my dad's stall. Brianne, not wanting me to befriend him in that moment, turned abruptly, "Take this."
"Why?" I inquired, curious as she hurried to a wall.
"Crouch here and divert attention."
I complied, lugging the beverages in my grips. She approached the wall and the extent of her hastiness was revealed in her queer posture, her feet stuck together. Her shock was evident when she quietly muttered, "My costume seams have torn apart."
"Can I help?", I proffered.
"No, I've safety pins in my suitcase", she stated, frowning as she gestured for me to avert mine.
I waited while Brianne gestured stoically, her gaze focused on my face. Yet, my eyes wondered at the passersby, trying not to betray my inquisitiveness - were they blind to the situation unfolding mere feet away? Feeling the weight of the bottles, I tapped one to make noise.
She yielded after a time, "Give me another minute, then let's head out."
I watched as she bent down and gathered her hair, handing a pair to me. "Pull the cuffs from her wrists." With pleasure, I executed her request and she pushed her arms from her attire. My hands shivered with the task, but the process was completed when I let go. She withdrew a suitcase from the floor, retrieving the items inside and facing me once more.
Her expression was serene, "You know, I've always wanted a man to unzip my back."
I froze. "Yeah, okay."
She tugged her hair to the front of her body, exposing the tight space between her shoulder blades. Wanting to assist, I approached her and stretched out my hands to assist her. We glanced at one another, our eyes locked, before she suddenly inquired quite softly, "Can you help me remove my pilot suit back?"
I gazed at her with astonishment.
"Of course."
While her physique was bathed in the summer rays, her attire enveloped in light and cooling air-conditioning - a strange contradiction. Brianne removed her gloves and strewn them near her suitcase, before gesturing to her wrists.
"Pull her wrists out of her suit."
I mustered my courage before assisting her in egressing the suit. The whole imbroglio was ceremoniously removed - I was aware this may change our relationship, but hardly did I imagine the outcome.
"So, what are we going to do now?" I enquired.
She thought. "Let's just...hotel room." And thus we left.
Reaching the third floor where our abode resided, she opened the door with her card. I dithered, whether to stand guard outside or enter.
"Come in," she claimed. I promptly obeyed, wildly gazing at the space, unboxed clothing and fabric put away for mom's outfit met my eyes. In such a large room, only the beds stayed vacant and stark, uncovered under the cool light. I experienced mild anxiety when she stood before the window, asking for my aid.
"Here."
Proceeding to her side, I turned so my back faced her. She perched just behind me and undid her hair, holding it up to prevent it from interfering. In a smooth motion, her jacket was ripped off her back, the seams shining as if she was some superhero from the silver screen. Moments of tender laughter emitted from her.
She now faced me with a finish, both of us grinning. Our roles had switched and now Brianne Water was baring her bra for me.
Once I had stumbled across her bra, weakly hiding beneath a book during a wet day at school. It was April, and it had just started raining while I was on my way to math class. Her shirt, a plain white top, had become see-through from the water seeping through it, exposing her pale blue bra for a quick second before she covered it up again. Now, several months later, she was standing before me, wearing a white pilot suit. The thin material outlined her slender figure and exposed a good portion of her breasts as I gazed upon her.
"Do you find me attractive?" she asked casually, almost flippantly.
I Cath somewhat resembled the girl in my book, with her pert, shapely breasts as she stood before me in her bra and underwear.
"Yes," I admitted, feeling my cheeks grow warm.
"You like boobs?"
I found it best to keep my eyes on her face to hide any more embarrassment.
She merely smiled and removed the pilot suit by levering it down past her jeans and kicking off her boots. As she stood up, my attention was drawn to her white panties. "Do you like them?"
I nodded affirmatively, not trusting myself to speak just yet as my boxers suddenly felt extremely tight around my bulging erection. She lay down on the bed, her butt naked and exposed as she laid out next to me. In front of me now was the girl of my imagination, ready for the first time.
"I'd like to show you how to make your fantasy with Cath come true," she said, quick as a fox.
I scrambled and leapt onto the bed, my eyes locked on her thighs, then followed upward to her perfect ass, as if in slow motion, a look of pure awe on my face. She didn't pause for long, however, as she retrieved a piece of foil from her suitcase. A condom. With a wink, she strode over and swiped my t-shirt as she passed by. Her words barely registered to me as I watched her ripple through the clothes, leaving me in just a pair of boxers. By the time she reached the bed, retrieved the package, and climbed back next to me, I could hardly believe my eyes.
We made contact in a kiss like no other. Our lips met, and her hand roamed up and down my arm, stimulating the hairs and muscles as she squeezed my shaft through my boxers. The sensation invaded my chest, making me ravenous for more. As soon as we parted, she stopped suddenly and looked me in the eyes.
"Don't you go out with Robbie Holdman?" I questioned, the words feeling strange as they left my mouth. The images of Brianne in her underwear, stroking my member through my shorts, and the sensual scent of her perfume were so vivid now before me.
"We broke up," she answered calmly. She popped up from the bed and perched over my body.
I watched rapt as she extended her index and middle fingers, teasingly tugging at the fabric of my shorts. It seemed as if she was inviting me to reach into my underwear. I took a moment to gather my courage and followed her lead. My hand slowly glided along the length of my member, and I marveled at the swelling, which had turned me into a hard, invisible rod.
Her hand pulled away from me, she motioned at the package in her right hand. I wondered if she expected me to grab it and put it on immediately, but she smashed our lips together once more in a tight embrace.
But now her fingers were kneading and caressing my right arm, working their way from my shoulder to my fingertips. She effortlessly pushed my other arm between her thighs and began guiding my fingers deeper, sliding them up and down. Her wetness radiated from between her legs and ensnared my digits as she resumed the teasing game. The pad of my index finger ran over her clitoris, eliciting a soft moan as she rolled her hips up against it. Soon, I had rolled onto me onto my back, relieving the pressure on my boxers.
"I've never done this before," I breathed softly.
Brianne, her head rolled to the side, met my gaze and grinned.
"I'll teach you," she smiled. From her hair to her boobs to her hips and finally to her downstairs area, her beauty was stunning. I felt mesmerized, overwhelmed and awestruck as she sat up and played with her bra, removing it with a simple flourish. Her breasts were an A-cup, but the combination of size and position were irresistible. I was entranced by her taut nipples, a full handful of firm cleavage, and the soft softness of her skin.
Listening to her amused laughter as she lay down next to me and took my hand, I was led into her personal space, my fingers exploring her nether regions. The anticipation built and plummeted, pooling within me as my fingers slipped within. She spread her thighs, bending her knees to accommodate the motions of my digits, writhing and moaning softly as I responded to her cues. Such a flur of excitement passed through her balled hand, roughly measuring my comfort while my fingers felt the silky, naked snatch before me. Her leg intertwined itself around mine, drawing us closer, and her wrist grasped my shaft through my shorts once again.
She let out a sigh and then leaned over me, biting her lower lip.
"How am I doing?" she whispered.
I struggled to find the words, not for lack of boasting.
"You're fantastic," I stated, and she rolled her eyes.
"Alright, go like this, from side to side," she instructed, and I complied, receiving a small moan from her in response. "Great, keep doing that," she continued, her other hand resuming its role of massaging my length encased in my underwear like before as she leaned in for another kiss. Our kisses intensified and became more animated, my actions increasing her arousal, emboldening me to be more forceful with my kisses. Then, she guided my hand lower, my fingers slipping through more wetness.
"Direct your digit," she instructed. "There you go, now insert. Slowly."
I inserted, slowly. The sensation was different than I had anticipated but still arousing, and she moaned gently, laughing at my discomfort.
"Good, now in and out, gradually. Don't completely withdraw," she instructed, looking at me and enduring as I struggled to make my muscle work as intended. But I succeeded, and then my finger was gliding in and out of her, eliciting a smile and a kiss from her. My member ached in response and I tried shifting my weight to make it easier for her to touch me, but this disrupted my finger's movement and she let loose a frustrated sigh.
"Slowly," she ordered, again, as I reestablished the previous rhythm. It dawned on me that part of my body was now inside Brianne's vagina, inside a girl's vagina. I was fucking her with my finger. This thought was very arousing.
"Alright, let's move." I'd lost the rhythm somehow and she gently guided my hand away and from her knickers. "Do you know what sixty-nine is?"
I laughed nervously. "Um, I think so."
"Good. I'll be on top."
As she shifted, she removed her knickers and stepped out of them. I lay down on my back, my heart racing, feeling her getting ready to straddle my chest. Then she leaned over me, maintaining her balance, and positioned herself to straddle my head.
I gaped. I could see Brianne's vagina. Brianne Waters' vagina. The attractive girl from my school was about to-
I widened my eyes, bewildered, as she reached into my boxers and grasped my naked penis for the first time. My mind raced, wondering if she wanted the condom, now discarded carelessly on the bed. A moment later, she'd freed my penis from my boxers and I was overwhelmed as she touched it with her tongue. Oh my god. She was licking my penis. With her tongue.
"You have to lick me too," she said, pausing for a moment.
I concentrated. I could see Brianne's anus. Was I in heaven? What philanthropic act had I performed to receive this?
Her vagina was slick and I extended my tongue. It was unclear how to start this oral sex journey. I groaned as she engulfed my penis with her mouth, and this prompted me to enthusiastically lean forward and start with my tongue. I tasted and licked her wetness, savoring the sexy sensation. I had to proceed carefully, waiting for her moans to indicate what felt good and what didn't, and I quickly found that inserting my tongue was less successful. She shifted her hips to help me, utilizing her experience to guide my tongue to the right spot.
She continued sucking my penis, and after what felt like an instant, I could feel my orgasm approaching.
"I'll ejaculate if you continue," I cautioned, blushing. I could barely last a few minutes, if that. And that's what women always complained about. On TV, at least.
Brianne removed my penis from her mouth and released it. "Okay," she gasped, breathing heavily. My erect penis was cold from the air conditioning in the room, creating a peculiar sensation. She pressed her vagina back on me, sat up, and positioned herself so that her vagina rested on my face. This was a solo sensation; I merely had to lick, and she did the rest, her whole weight bearing down on me. She rocked her hips, moaning passionately, loudly, and my tongue, lips, and mouth became coated in her wetness.
"Alright, keep going, straight ahead," she said, almost to herself rather than to me since I couldn't really go anywhere. She began to bounce slightly, pushing down harder, and I started to question just how long I could endure this before suffocating. She pressed down hard again and I tried to ignore the pain, focusing instead on her moans. With a burst of fulfillment, she suddenly relaxed, releasing a long, rising moan before pulling herself off of me.
"Condom," she demanded urgently. I reached around for it, accidentally knocking it onto the floor, so she shifted off me to allow me to find it. After taking off my boxers, I sat down on the edge of the bed and opened the packet, desperately trying to recall any memories of sex education from the distant past about the proper way to put on a condom. When it came to it, however, it was more straightforward than I'd anticipated, and I slid the rubber down around the base of my penis before turning to face her.
Illuminated by the light from the window behind her, kneeling on the bed, she had a tantalizing allure. Her hair was mussed, her eyes locked onto me, her nipples poked out in front of her, and I longed for her.
"Lie down, I'll sit on top. That way, I can control the speed," she explained, indicating the bed. I didn't require any further encouragement and dutifully positioned myself where she instructed, getting comfy just as she climbed onto me again, facing me this time, her hips hovering over mine.
"Wait a minute, don't push," she said, reaching behind her and grasping my penis again. The sensation was muted by the condom, yet still intense. After a few moments of activity, her gaze locked on mine and I felt her warmth return. Her hips lowered, her hand leaving my cock and moving to my chest to help her balance, and I realized with a shock that I was inside her.
My penis was inside her.
My penis was inside Brianne's vagina. I was no longer a virgin. I was... well, fucking her, kind of.
Really, she was fucking me, rather slowly, her hips moving up and down to push my penis in and out of her. But then she picked up the pace, and I sunk deeper, and her lips parted, and she moaned. I was making her feel good by fucking her, and that felt simply amazing.
"Raise your hips a bit," she said, and I did, and she gasped. I stopped.
"No, continue. Think about fucking Cath from your book."
I resumed, my imagination going into overdrive. Cath back from a dangerous mission, her pilot suit discarded, easing tension by riding my penis. But the image vanished when Brianne's gasp turned into a moan, and I increased my speed, enthralled by the idea of actually fucking Brianne, and I realised why everyone claimed that sex felt so good. She was so warm, so tight, so much better than any experience I had ever had. Every sensation was mind-blowing. It was too much.
"I'm about to-"
"Go for it."
I closed my eyes and pushed into her, and it took hardly any effort to reach the peak. My penis pulsed, releasing my cum into the condom as she sat herself down on me, my penis half-buried in her vagina. When I opened my eyes, she was staring at me, a playful smirk on her face.
"Did you enjoy it?" she inquired, her voice gentle.
"Oh my god, it was... extraordinary." I lacked the words.
"Not a virgin, now," she chuckled, apparently amused by the concept, mounting the bed and pulling up her clothing. I dressed as quickly as I could, pulling on my t-shirt as she checked herself in the mirror.
And, just like that, there I was, standing in the hallway outside the room.
"Do you want my number or something? We could-" I initiated, but she shook her head, her ponytail swaying.
"No, I don't believe so. I had fun, though," she announced, giving me that captivating smile once more.
"I did too."
"I might see you around."
"Yeah, okay."
She closed the door. I never saw her again.
Dad's attitude seemed unchanged after my extended absence. I was concerned that some aspect of me, whether it be my appearance or my demeanor, would immediately give away that I'd just had sex and lost my virginity to the girl I'd always desired. It genuinely felt like a dream come true. In fact, I might have even had this dream prior to this.
As usual, a paper cup with coffee was in front of Dad, and he'd managed to sell several more pieces of artwork. The Next Generation had only seen two more copies sold, he remarked, believing that those interested in purchasing one may have already visited the booth. However, I had sold a total of thirty-nine, excluding the single copy lingering on the table in front of me. Gazing back at me on the cover, perfectly portrayed in the cockpit, was Cath, a renowned starfighter pilot.
I would never be able to see the book again without being reminded of Brianne.
Read also:
- Yes, Darling
- Unfamiliar Passengers in a Railroad Carriage
- Belonging to a Place: Chapter 2
- Meeting Amily Scheduled
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