井の中の蛙大海を知らず
I no naka no kawazu taikai o shirazu
“A frog in the well knows nothing of the great ocean.”
Those who live in a small world think that what they see is everything; all the while, they never know about the bigger outside world.
~Japanese proverb
Kit
I don’t go to sleep until the morning. The darkness scares me, and I know that my reality is that I have to stay awake until sunrise. My head nods forward as light flickers in through the window.
Something soft touches my leg; I groan and look down. I hope to God that Horus wasn’t here long enough to see the trick of the light. Two Red Bull cans are crushed on my table, but I have a blanket covering me. Did he do that?
I check my phone and then get to my feet. I have maybe one hour before I need to show up for work. It’s been a while since I’ve slept all day, but I know I needed it if I’m going to survive tonight.
I get up and shuffle toward the kitchen to grab more Red Bull from the fridge. It’s literally one of the only things I stock up on, on a daily basis, just in case.
And it’s the only thing that does the trick next to the medicine I have to take.
For some reason, the empty fridge reminds me of my empty existence. I wish I was sleeping again, dreaming about a life that could never possibly be mine. Maybe I was an author in another life? It’s the only thing that would explain the bizarre dreams I always have.
Of places I’ve never been.
Experiences I’ve never had.
Lifetimes that don’t exist.
I’ve been a princess forced into a marriage with a horribly old dictator who ended up killing me on my wedding night—write that Wattpad.
I’ve been blind and forced to beg on the streets before getting run over by a horse and crippled, only to have the doctor who fixed me up fall for me and ask me to marry him. In my dreams, he always takes care of me until I die five years later from pneumonia.
And my favorite one—I was an animal. All I remember in those dreams are that I’m happy, I’m running, I’m seductive, cunning, beautiful, and protective of my fur, whatever that means. A man visits me and tells me to wait that he’ll always return to me. I almost always wake up with a smile on my face afterward, like I’m finally at peace.
Which is really pathetic that I’d rather be an animal that can’t even communicate than a human, even in my fantasies.
Maybe I was a dog in my past life.
A cricket.
An ant.
Who knows if I even believe in past lives, but the dreams seem so real that part of me wonders how or why I’m able to construct something so real. Experts say that everyone you see in your dreams are people who you’ve actually seen in real life; the human brain isn’t capable of creating a new face, so that means every single face I’ve seen in those dreams is a face I’ve seen in passing.
Creepy when I think about it.
I start chugging my red bull and go charge my phone. I need to change for work; otherwise, grumpy Horus is going to get even more grumpy, and I’m already going to have another long night trying not to sleep, especially since tonight I get off early, which means it will be an even longer night where I have to drink caffeine and watch TV until the sunrise.
I try not to let it ruin my mood and change into the tight black SOUL T-shirt. I put on my black tights and black jean shorts and pair them with white Converse, then look in the mirror. I’m not wearing much makeup, but when I was hired, the owner, Timber, did say that I could do whatever sort of makeup I wanted.
I haven’t really done anything in a while to my eyes, so I grab some red eyeliner and pair it with some purple eyeshadow, then extend the lines past my lids onto my temples, creating a mismatched angel wing, then color it in with the purple. I line the inside of my eyelids with the red and add some blush, then glide on some bright red lipstick. After all that, I braid my hair back into two small pigtails.
“Well,” I say, staring at myself in the mirror, “this is as good as it’s going to get.”
I lie to myself and say that I don’t care what Horus’s reaction will be, and I repeat that same mantra in my head the entire walk to the bar, only to open the main door to the bar, walk by his office and nearly trip over my own feet when I see him changing his shirt.
He’s half-naked.
His jeans are so tight I swear his ass might burst through the seams. He’s balling the white T-shirt into his hands and tossing it onto his desk, only to grab it again and toss it one more time as if the shirt pissed him off. My mouth goes dry when he leans over the desk and grips it with his hands like he needs it to steady him.
He stills.
My feet won’t move.
His head crooks to the side, but he doesn’t turn around. “It’s rude to spy on someone.”
“It’s rude to change in public,” I say right back before covering my mouth with my hands.
His back muscles flex; it’s like watching a god in real life. How is he that ripped and tall at the same time? His bronzed skin has an almost glow to it.
Finally, he turns around, his blue eyes narrow. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to know you hate your T-shirt?”
“I don’t hate anything. Hate means weakness.” What the heck sort of answer is that? “And you’re late.”
I look down at my phone. “No, I’ve been standing here three minutes.”
He smirks. “That long then?”
“That was trickery,” I point out.
“No, that was manipulation.” He reaches for another t-shirt on his desk, this one is black and has the logo on the front of it. Soul.
Yes, he is completely sinful.
Full of sin.
If you put his name next to sin in a dictionary, the world would make sense. The universe would applaud, and people would suddenly realize what it really felt like to fall.
I clear my throat. “I’ll just put my things in the locker and meet you back out here?”
“You’re bartending tonight,” he says. “So make sure you—” He tilts his head. “Your makeup looks good, but—” He walks up to me. “May I?”
I frown. “May you what?”
He licks his thumb and presses it against my cheek. “I’m just going to blend it a bit. Since it’s so dark in the club if you look more… wrecked, the customers will stare harder. Think of it like more manipulation and trickery. We want them to want to know your story.” He smudges the edges of my eyes and tilts my chin toward him.
I don’t know why I’m shaking.
Maybe it’s fear.
Or maybe it’s just because he’s singlehandedly one of the most beautiful people I’ve seen in my life up close.
He also brought me home last night.
And he stayed.
Nobody ever stays.
I clear my throat. “Better?”
He pats me on the head and pauses when my eyes close. I’ve always loved being touched on my head, I have no clue why and if I had parents that were still alive, I’d ask them about it, but I’m assuming it’s a familiar thing that makes me feel safe and loved.
He runs his large hand up and down.
“Not to disturb whatever this is.” Tarek’s voice interrupts. “But we have some thirsty customers.”
Horus jerks his hand to his side and clears his throat twice. “On my way.”
“Yeah, I just have to…” I do a small circle in an attempt to find the employee restroom. “Go.”
Tarek points. “Right there, yup, there you go, three steps to your right. What the hell kind of spell did Horus put on you?”
He pets me.
I mean… touched me. He— I shake my head. “Give me one minute.”
I don’t wait to see what they talk about. I make a beeline toward the employee room, where I shove everything in the first empty locker and close it.
A flash of movement captures my attention.
“What was that?” I ask myself. “Ugh, I’m going crazy.”
I look to the right and spot a mirror reflecting my image. I check my face. The smudges near my eyes… I hate that he’s right. It looks more mysterious, more high fashion—my makeup.
Who is this guy anyway?
The thought haunts me the entire night, and I swear I can feel his hands still on my head.
For the first time in years—I’m not tired.
I’m alive.