This Time

I froze. My hair blew into my face and I wanted nothing more than to brush it away. It tickled my nose and obstructed my vision. I always ended up here, on this gravel rode, tiny pebbles embedding themselves in my peach running shoes.

The bull stood a few yards in front of me, a fence not too far away tore open. I couldn't help but eye the angry bull's massive, pointed horns. I also couldn't help but wonder what has made this bull so angry? He huffed a warning, kicking up gravel with his front hoof.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as I heard the clomping of his feet as he charged.

I opened my eyes, as I always did, to find myself lying on my back in my bed, birds chirping. I sighed heavily and sat up, running my hands through my hair. Why did I keep having this dream about a damn raging bull?

I slipped out of bed, meandering into my kitchen that was the very next room over, a small island the only thing diving the two rooms. Instead of a living area, I had a bedroom with a TV mounted over my desk. I had three standard windows that sat right next each other fill my tiny apartment with warm light.

I flipped the switch of my pre-loaded coffee maker, leaning against the counter as I listened to it hum. I started gathering my long tree bark colored hair into a ponytail, wondering how much writing I could get done before my shift at the pizzeria downstairs.

...

I tied my apron around my waist tightly, as I pulled up my jeans by their belt loops. I really needed to buy more work pants, but never seemed to find the time to go to the mall. I tugged my messy bun through my "Papa Eddy's Pizza" hat.

I was the only one in the restaurant, the only one capable of getting out of bed early enough to make the homemade dough that tended to make this pizzeria stand out against the others. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker, and pressed my Demi Lovato playlist. Their music always lulled me into a pleasant trance, my movements becoming robotic.

First the flour, then some yeast, and a pinch of salt, a bigger pinch of sugar. I sang along to Demi about meeting the devil last night and how he might be kinda of funny and kinda my type. I think of the bull. His black orbs for eyes, his angry breath. I remembered his stance was so stiff, he could have been a statue.

"Aye, Mia, get it, girl," Danny yelled as he slipped through the back door. I had just finished belting out an embarrassing long note. I immediately clicked off the music, covering my phone in flour.

"Hey Danny," I greeted as he entered the kitchen with his apron in hand. Oddly the yellow uniform shirt with a pepperoni pizza on the breast pocket didn't look terrible on him. He had hazel hair that he wore short on the sides and floppy on top, and ocean blue eyes. When I say his eyes are like the ocean, it's because they change color with the sun. Cloudy days they are a darker, deeper blue, and of course sunny days they are an outrageous bright blue.

"Mia?"

"Huh?" I turned to face Danny as he finished tying off his apron.

"Is it cool if I open up a couple minutes early?" He asked gesturing to the picture window that gave the kitchen a view of the front of the pizzeria. Including the giant windows that showed people lining up for lunchtime. I held in a sigh as I realized I really zoned out for three straight hours making pizza dough and listening to Demi pour their soul out.

"Yeah, absolutely," I replied, starting to take my dough balls and toss them into thin, round pizzas. Showtime. Danny and I had this routine of entertaining the customers by throwing our pizza dough into the air and catching them completely synchronized. No matter the amount of tosses, we would catch them, throw them, and lay them on their pan, moving as one. People would clap, sometimes holler, but most importantly they almost always tipped. Danny and I would always have the tip jar overflowing before the second shift people came in.

...

Danny followed me up to my apartment after our shift. He always used my place to shower and change before his plans, since he lived across the city and almost never left work on time. As per usual he was running late for a hot date with Ashley. Waiting until I heard the water turn on in my bathroom and the shower curtain scrape against the metal bar, I slipped off my flour covered jeans and tee shirt, tossing them in a wicker hamper. I was about to unhook my bra when the bathroom door opened and Danny stood there in only a towel.

"Forgot my-" he didn't finish his thought as we stood mere feet away from one another mostly naked. Without saying anything, or breaking eye contact I side stepped to Danny's backpack, grabbed his body wash, and tossed it to him, while my other hand held my bra together.

"Thanks," he said once he caught the bottle, his eyes lingering on mine a moment longer before he disappeared into the bathroom once more. I walked calmly to the corner of my bedroom that would be hidden from the bathroom door, finally releasing my bra. My heart hammered against my chest, but I tried my best to ignore the sensation sweeping through my lady region.

I struggled with my sports bra against my sweaty skin, quickly slipping on running shorts and a tank top. I took one last longing stare at the bathroom door, where I could hear Danny rapping along to one of his favorite youtuber's parody songs, before slipping out of one of my windows and down the fire escape.

I started my jog at a much quicker pace than I usually did, my headphones bouncing against my chest.

…

I decided on running three extra miles on this day, the pavement turning to gravel, buildings morphing into trees and fields. The countryside was far from the city, meaning it was time to turn around. But I didn’t. My music had quit playing, I had forgotten to set the playlist to replay itself, so I just focused on the pounding of my feet and my ragged breathing.

Danny’s bare chest, his wide eyes as he realized he was seeing me in only my underwear. The way Danny’s eyes never left mine once he realized I was indisposed.

Breath in, Mia. Breath out. Count my foot falls as I run farther away from my apartment. I finally looked up, only to freeze in my tracks. It’s a… bull?

Luckily my hair was pulled back, so I didn’t have it tickling my face. But when did I go to sleep? I stayed frozen as I blinked rapidly ensuring the bull was real. It was hard to tell if this bull was an actual real life bull, or I had finished my run as I always did in the city then returned to my apartment and decided on a nap.

No, I was definitely awake. Right? I mean in my dream I could never identify if I was dreaming or not. I never knew until I was waking up in my bed. I took a deep breath in and lifted my hand as if I was going to pet the bull. He huffed a warning, kicking up gravel with his front hoof. Then he charged. I stayed where I was waiting to wake up, but the bull’s head made contact, throwing me several yards back. I suppose I wasn’t dreaming this time.