~ANYA POV~
“Yaya!” The shout cut through the bass-heavy music pounding inside CÉRRO Nightclub. I didn’t need to look up from the drink I was mixing to know it was Athena. Only she called me that. I glanced anyway. There she was, strutting across the bar like she owned it—blonde hair glowing under the neon lights, lips glossed to perfection, and that mischievous grin plastered across her face. The grin that meant trouble. “No,” I said flatly, sliding the cocktail across to the waiting customer. He didn’t take the drink right away. His eyes were too busy glued to my chest. Typical. “Would you like anything else, sir?” I asked, forcing my voice into customer-service-sweetness. “Yeah,” he yelled over the music, leaning way too close. “Your number.” I clenched my jaw. Great. Another drunk who thought spitting on me while shouting counted as flirting. He wasn’t ugly—late twenties, maybe, with dirty-blonde hair and a smirk that screamed “I’ve watched Wolf of Wall Street too many times.” But still. Not my type. “You know…” he dragged out the words, breath smelling like cheap whiskey, “I could take you outta here. No more slinging drinks. No more shitty customers. Just me. You. Shiny things.” I almost laughed. His order was the cheapest drink on the menu. Shiny things? The only shiny thing he could probably afford was a discount keychain from the gift shop across the street. Behind me, Athena was trying not to burst into giggles. My annoyance must’ve been written all over my face. “Why so quiet, baby girl?” he asked, raising his brows like he’d just dropped the line of the century. I gave him the fakest smile in my arsenal. “Not interested. Thank you.” Then I spun on my heel and walked away before he could argue. Rule number one of bartending: never let them think they’re winning. Athena was waiting, leaning against the counter with a piece of paper in her hand. She fluttered her lashes at me. “What now?” I asked, wiping down the sticky counter with a rag. She slapped the paper against my chest. “Another love note. From Mr. Tall, Dark, and Probably Toxic.” I sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re my best friend, not my girlfriend.” She gasped dramatically, clutching her heart. “Tragic. Rejected again.” Then she tossed her blonde hair and sauntered off like the stage queen she was. I shook my head, grabbed the next set of orders, and let my hands do the work. Mojito. Sidecar. Californication. Quick, smooth, automatic. Bartending was muscle memory now. When I pushed the tray back to Athena, she shoved it right back. “Not me. I need the ladies’ room. Or maybe the men’s.” She winked, then disappeared into the crowd, leaving me stuck with delivery duty. “Of course you do,” I muttered. *********************** “Mattie, cover me for two minutes,” I told our co-worker, balancing the tray. “What’s in it for me, sweet cheeks?” Mattie smirked, adjusting his perfectly tailored vest. He was hot enough to make the straight girls swoon and just gay enough to never let them forget it. I winked badly. “A back-alley makeout.” He recoiled, fanning himself dramatically. “As if. Standards, babe.” “Fine, fine,” I laughed, weaving into the crowd with the tray. The drinks were for a table shoved into the corner—teenagers, barely legal, all pretending they weren’t. I dropped the tray onto the sticky surface, plastered on my fake smile, and bailed before one of them tried to ask if I knew where to score pills. “Fuck my life,” I muttered under my breath, heading back to the bar. Here’s the thing: I really do love my job. Loud music, flashing lights, endless chaos—London nightlife is its own beast, and I thrive in it. Wild. Free. Untouchable. That’s me. But sometimes….just sometimes….the loneliness hit. Being thousands of miles away from Mijas, from family, from the warm sun and sea breeze… it stung in the quiet moments. Not that there were many quiet moments at CÉRRO. At least I had Athena. She wasn’t just my co-worker. She was my childhood best friend, my roommate, my partner in crime. Tall, legs for days, and curves that made men trip over themselves. Compared to her, I was the shorter, curvier, redheaded best friend with a resting-bitch-face. But hey…..I had my looks. I knew I was beautiful. I didn’t need anyone else to tell me that. “Yaya!” Athena’s voice yanked me out of my little daydream again. She snapped her fingers in my face. “Hello? Earth to main character?” I blinked. “Sorry. Zoned out.” She rolled her eyes, then leaned closer like she was about to spill a secret. Before she could, Mattie’s voice cut through: “Closing time countdown, babies. Two more hours!” Two more hours. I could make it. Then home, bed, peace. Still… Abuela’s old words echoed in my head: “Cuando el alma se inquieta, algo viene detrás.” (When the soul feels restless, something is on its way.) And tonight? My soul was restless. I just didn’t know why.~ANYA’S POV~My eyes snapped open to light. Too bright. For a heartbeat, I thought I was home….my apartment with its lingering vanilla candle scent, the faint hint of laundry detergent clinging to the couch cushions, the one place that was mine. Safe. Familiar.But this… this wasn’t home.The ceiling above me glittered with gold carvings, like sunlight trapped in wood. A chandelier spilled fractured diamonds across the room, scattering brightness too harsh for comfort. The sheets beneath me were silk, cool and whisper-soft, like sleeping in a stranger’s skin. The air carried roses and polished wood, heavy and deliberate.Luxury. Stuffy. Suffocating.I jerked upright too fast, pain detonating in my skull. My jaw ached, bruised from the backhand. Memories slammed into me—the break-in, the soldiers, the man in white. Athena’s scream splitting the night.My stomach lurched. “Athena…”I stumbled out of bed, bare feet sinking into a rug so plush it felt wrong. The room was bigger than my
~ANYA’S POV~The ride back to our apartment was suffocating, like sitting in a vacuum with no air. Athena, for once, had nothing to say: no sarcastic remarks, no dramatic commentary. Just silence.Two hours slipped by after we got home. We ate our tacos in robotic bites, neither of us tasting the food, then disappeared into our separate rooms without a word.Now it was quarter past eight. My body was drained, but sleep refused to come. My mind buzzed like a hive that wouldn’t quiet. I’d tried putting on a movie, hoping the noise would drown out the storm in my chest, but every scene blurred until the screen may as well have been blank.With a frustrated huff, I threw off the covers and considered stomping into Athena’s room. She always let me crawl into her bed when the world felt too heavy. I was halfway off the mattress when a soft knock rattled the door.My pulse stuttered. Athena never knocked. She only barged in like she owned the place—unless she needed me. Unless she was sca
~ANYA’S POV~We flagged down a cab and slid inside, Athena tossing the driver the fare with a reluctant sigh. The clock on the dash read twenty to six. Perfect.By the time we pulled up to the chapel, the courtyard was empty, exactly how I wanted it. Athena hung back by the door while I walked to the first pew. She didn’t follow. That was one thing about her—she always knew when to give me space.I knelt down, the old wood creaking under my knees, and made the sign of the cross. The stained-glass windows cast fractured colors across the aisle, warm blues and reds dancing on my skin.And yet my chest felt heavy.This was always the hard part. The starting line. ‘Do I say “Dear God”? Do I say “Hey God”?’I lowered my head.“Hey God. It’s me again.” My voice sounded too loud, even though it was barely a whisper. “You already know my name, so no need for introductions, right?”The silence pressed in, but instead of suffocating, it wrapped around me like a blanket. For the first time in f
~ANYA POV~I woke up to blinding light. Not “morning sun peeking through curtains” light. No……this was middle-of-the-day, ‘you have-overslept-your-life-away’ light.The wall clock confirmed it: 12:30 p.m.So much for church in the morning. I rolled over with a groan, deciding I’d just go by five in the evening instead. Church was always open, and honestly, I wanted the place to myself.Last night replayed in my head like a movie on loop. The men. The blue-eyed stranger. The cab pulled up just in time. Everything could’ve gone horribly wrong if that ride hadn’t shown up.The thought made my chest tighten.For two years, Athena and I had walked that same road to the bus stop, drunk on laughter, heels clicking, sometimes even singing. Not once had we run into anything like ‘that’.I dragged myself out of bed, trudged down the short hallway, and locked myself in the bathroom.When I first joined Athena in London, she’d been living in a cramped one-bedroom. After a month, she got me a spot
~ANYA POV~My shift ended at two in the morning. By two-thirty, I was outside, hoodie up, sneakers on, cursing at my useless ride app.No signal. No cab. Just me. Alone.I was supposed to leave with Athena, but….classic Athena….she bailed. Last I saw, she was vanishing into the night with her latest conquest, some tall redhead I’d never seen before. Not the first time she ditched me, definitely not the last.The walk to the bus stop wasn’t long, but long enough to remind you that heels were invented by Satan. Luckily, tonight I’d picked sneakers. Black joggers. Black hoodie. Face tucked low. Invisible mode.The street wasn’t empty. A couple night-shift stragglers, a guy smoking on the corner, a girl arguing with her phone. Enough people to keep it from being horror-movie quiet. Still, my guard stayed up.I wasn’t about to be ‘that’ girl.You know the one—headphones blasting, wandering down a dark alley like common sense doesn’t exist. And then, boom. Van door slides open. Bye-bye,
~ANYA POV~“Yaya!”The shout cut through the bass-heavy music pounding inside CÉRRO Nightclub. I didn’t need to look up from the drink I was mixing to know it was Athena. Only she called me that.I glanced anyway. There she was, strutting across the bar like she owned it—blonde hair glowing under the neon lights, lips glossed to perfection, and that mischievous grin plastered across her face. The grin that meant trouble.“No,” I said flatly, sliding the cocktail across to the waiting customer.He didn’t take the drink right away. His eyes were too busy glued to my chest. Typical.“Would you like anything else, sir?” I asked, forcing my voice into customer-service-sweetness.“Yeah,” he yelled over the music, leaning way too close. “Your number.” I clenched my jaw. Great. Another drunk who thought spitting on me while shouting counted as flirting.He wasn’t ugly—late twenties, maybe, with dirty-blonde hair and a smirk that screamed “I’ve watched Wolf of Wall Street too many times.” But