Chapter 2 - Lily

“Coming through!”

Meandering through the bar-goers on a Saturday night was never an easy feat. Not when it gets busy like this. Carrying the tray of martinis toward the table it’d been ordered from, I’m calling out over the music.

My voice isn’t loud enough to carry over the blasting beats. A head-on collision with a suited man is my fate. The tray flies from my hands, sending alcohol and olives through the air. As it shatters at our feet, the pattering of glass is the only thing louder than the bleating speakers.

“Are you crazy?!” comes the suited man’s reproachful scolding as he gawks at the stains on his gray suit jacket.

My only consolation is that I’ve added a burst of color to the rather dull jacket. Stifling my giggle when that’s my initial thought, I come back to the actual problem at hand.

My manager has witnessed the ordeal, shaking his head as he makes his way over.

“Sorry,” I say, grimacing as I kneel to pick up the strewn glass. Grabbing the tray, I busy myself clearing up just as Daniel arrives behind me.

His looming presence sends a shiver down my spine. The ominous anticipation of what comes next makes me gulp. The distraction lasts long enough that I end up pricking my finger with a shard of glass and yelp from the pain.

“Get up, Lily!” Daniel yells from behind me.

As I suckle on my index, where blood trickles from the cut, I get to my feet. Wincing, I turn around and face my manager. With a disproving shake of his head, he rolls his eyes.

“That’s the second time this week, Lily,” he chastises.

Removing my finger from between my lips, I pout at Daniel. Hoping that he’d have some sympathy for me, I plead my case. “My head’s just been all over the place lately,” I admit earnestly. “I have so much studying to do, I just—”

Daniel raises a hand in midair to stop me from speaking. Clicking his tongue, he says, “That’s not gonna fly by me, Lily. You know this already.”

“I know,” I sigh, hanging my head in shame. What Daniel doesn’t believe, actually turns out to be true. But trying to make him understand is pointless.

He points a distended finger at the mess on the floor. “This is coming off your wages.” He turns to the suited man I’d bumped into, apologizing and offering a complimentary free drink from the bar.

“Wait, Daniel,” I say when he’s about to leave. “I can’t afford to get my wages cut. Can I pull more hours?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before he finally nods with a heavy sigh. “Fine,” he relents. “But only because we’re busy. Put in your extra hours tonight.”

Thanking him with clapped hands, I wait until he’s left the floor to clean up my mess. Heading back to the main bar counter, I pass the tray of broken glass to Samantha.

“Rough night, huh?” she muses playfully.

Rolling my eyes at her misplaced jest, I lean my forearms on the counter. “Just another day in the life of Lily Turner.”

Samantha chuckles. “You really need to get laid. It will solve all your problems.”

Laughing dryly, I turn my face away. Samantha—who happens to be both my roommate and my colleague—has been pestering me to get a man.

The only problem is that I have no intention of finding one. My knight in shining armor exists solely in my head. An image I’d conjured up based on the romances I’ve read.

He has a face and a body but doesn’t have a name.

A nameless man who exists only as an escape. The brutal truth is that life is no fairytale. It consists of hardships and heartaches. Troubles and stresses that don’t allow for the perfect happy ending. Like the money woes I have to face, confining me to waiting tables at The Unicorn. While navigating college and all the adventures that come with it.

Scanning the tavern, I’m glad no one calls me to their table. It’s a moment for me to breathe, so I relax my shoulders and unwind until the heavy traffic of the night steals my peace.

I spot a tuft of dark hair from the corner of my eye. Much like the man of my dreams, the tips of jetted hair brush his nape. Not overly long, but long enough to run my fingers through.

Just as I had always imagined it.

Interest stirred, I twist toward the table where the lonesome stranger prepares to take a seat. When he turns, the wind is knocked right out of my chest. My heart skips when I realize he’s the spitting image of the man I made up in my head.

Had I manifested him out of the dreams Ive been having lately? With his broody dark features and tanned olive skin…

Plump lips framed by a perfectly-trimmed beard… Dark hair, a perfect contrast to the smoothness of his skin… A sharp nose and alluringly mysterious eyes with blades for brows…God! He’s as perfect as any fairytale can be.

Gasping in surprise, I turn to the bar and quickly wave Samantha over.

“Yeah? What’s up?” she asks while she wipes a glass with a towel.

Gesturing over my shoulder with a nod, I try to remain composed. “See that man over there? Table three?”

Samantha peeks over my head and then frowns. “There’s no one at the table, Lils.”

Snapping my head toward that table, my eyes widen with shock. The table is empty now.

Batting my eyelids as I turn to Samantha, I shrug. “I could have sworn I saw him there…” I absentmindedly say aloud.

“Who?”

Looking up, I notice the confusion in her eyes. “No one,” I brush off with a nervous half-giggle. “Don’t worry about it.”

Samantha’s brows lift when she glances at the door. “The cavalrys here,” she announces, flinging the towel over her shoulder. “Better get back to work.”

Sighing discontentedly, I scan the tavern for any signs of the man. Relegating it to my overactive imagination, I get back to work.

***

The extra hours I pulled at The Unicorn left me drained when I returned to the dorm room. Flinging my exhausted frame on the single bed, I lie in a text to my sister.

She just wants to find out how I’m doing. And I don’t dare to be honest with her. I could tell her all the ways that I’m suffering. How quick meals have turned to rolls on my belly and my hips filling out a bit more. Or how the denim jeans we’d often exchange no longer slide over my fuller rear.

It’s not like I can afford to be healthier. Neither can I afford to be honest with my sister when my eyelids feel as heavy as ever. I hit “send” on the text, then reach for my Linguistics textbook.

The only thing on my mind is the assessment I have tomorrow morning. It’s why I refused to go clubbing with Samantha after work tonight. Truthfully, I decline any of her invites simply because I fixate on the man in my dreams. I won’t succumb to peer pressure.

Like tonight, as I drift to sleep, I feel a different kind of pressure.

The pressure between my thighs when he dips his head there. His smoldering eyes penetrate my soul as his tongue flicks at my bundle of nerves. Throwing my head back, I relish the pleasure he ignites in my core.

His name catches on the tip of my tongue. Unknown, yet familiar at the same time. The smooth tendrils of slick hair pass through my fingers as I tug him closer. My thighs part as far as they can as he buries his tongue into my drenched hole.

“Let yourself go…” the man of my dreams drawls with my slick coating his lips.

Craving more friction, I rock my hips and ride his skillful tongue. Every lick and plunge draws me closer to the peak of climax. An orgasm I have never experienced before. One that explodes from deep inside, coiling and uncoiling in the pit of my belly.

When I cum, I open my eyes to find a veil over my face. A sort of web spun with fine threads of gold. I try seeing past the covering when I feel myself being air-lifted.

“Ah!” I gasp between the pages of my textbook. Pulling it off my face, I stare at the ceiling frustratedly.

Of course, it was just another blasted dream! I’ve been having them almost every night for the past week.

First, I drew a picture of my knight in my head when I was younger. Now, said knight is the dominator of my wet dreams.

Only this time, I was being carried through the air as if I were flying. Enrobed by golden threads like a veil over my face, I couldn’t see much further.

Propping my weight on my elbows, I check the time and huff as I lean back on the headboard. I can’t shake off the feeling that the shift in my dreaming pattern has to do with seeing him earlier. The man of my dreams at the tavern.

Unless it’s all just in my head.

That’s where I made him up to begin with.