3. Last name : Oscar worthy level of cringe

Thea Monroe

As I stood there, in the grand hall of Egyptian relics, with a jackal-headed man towering over me, I couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed. This was not how I envisioned my night going. I had just wanted to tag along with my bestie to this exclusive party, have a little fun, and maybe sneak a few photos for Instagram. But now, I was face-to-face with the enigmatic Rayes, the man whose secrets I had unwittingly stumbled upon.

Rayes stared at me, his eyes unblinking behind the Anubis mask. I could feel his gaze on me, penetrating the layers of my being. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, trying to come up with a convincing lie to keep my identity a secret.

A beat of silence and then, his voice, when it came, was low, smooth, and about as welcoming as a tax audit. “What you heard was confidential information, so I must know who you are? I haven’t seen you before, in any kind of event, so do me a favor: how will you convince me to keep my secret? I know you heard us.”

Right. Convince him. Fantastic. My mind, usually a whirring engine of witty comebacks and questionable life choices, suddenly decided to stage a full-blown evacuation. All cognitive functions were temporarily offline. My brain was just… buffering. Spinning its mental wheels and coming up with absolutely nothing useful. Except maybe the sudden, overwhelming urge to burst into tears and beg for mercy. But somehow, I suspected that wouldn’t exactly scream ‘trustworthy confidante.’

“Um..I..uh..I don’t think I should…” My voice, when it finally decided to make an appearance, sounded like a strangled mouse.

Convince him? How was I supposed to convince a masked, possibly vengeful, and clearly powerful individual to keep my accidental eavesdropping a secret? Especially when all I had to offer was… well, me. Which, at this precise moment, felt woefully inadequate.

“You know mine, so it’s only fair to know yours,” Anubis said, leaning even closer. His breath, surprisingly, smelled faintly of mint, even though he smoked his cigar just a moment ago, which was a bizarrely normal detail in this otherwise completely bonkers situation. His breath fanned the side of my cheek, “What. is. your. name?”

“My name isn’t important,” I blurted out, instantly regretting my life choices. Smooth move, Thea. Real smooth.

His eyes, already laser-focused, hardened. “It is important if you decide to spill all my secrets to the world. So let me ask again. What’s your name?”

Shit, shit, shit. Internally, I was chanting this mantra like my life depended on it. Because, let’s be honest, it probably did. Telling him my real name was problematic. Casey, bless her paranoid soul, was very particular about keeping her social life separate from her… let’s just say ‘discreet’ family business. Revealing my full name could potentially link me to her, and that was a friendship bridge I was not prepared to burn down for the sake of my own momentary idiocy.

But then again, lying to a man who looked like he held board meetings with sphinxes and wrestled crocodiles in his spare time seemed like an equally terrible idea.

He had that air about him, you know? The kind that screamed, “I know where you live, who your mother is, and what you had for breakfast three Tuesdays ago.” And honestly, I couldn’t even remember what I had for breakfast today. Probably because my brain was currently occupied with the delightful prospect of being interrogated by a man who looked like he'd just stepped off the cover of ‘GQ: Pharaoh Edition’.

Just a name. It doesn’t have to be the full name, my inner voice whispered, attempting to negotiate my way out of this rapidly escalating disaster. Fine. Compromise. Baby steps.

“Thea,” I breathed, the name feeling like a flimsy shield against a charging rhino. It was technically my name, just, you know, a very abbreviated version. Like calling Mount Everest “Mount.” Technically correct, but missing a crucial element.

For an instant, Rayes stood absolutely still. It was the kind of stillness that precedes a hurricane, or a really awkward silence at a Thanksgiving dinner. He took a few steps back, looking up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath, like he was trying to inhale calm and exhale murderous rage. Or maybe just desperately searching for a hidden escape hatch in the ornate plasterwork.

Honestly, with the way things were going, a hidden escape hatch didn't sound too bad right about now. Maybe it led to a secret tunnel, or a portal to another dimension where intimidating men in impeccably tailored God-like costumes didn't exist. One could dream.

After a couple more long minutes that felt like geological epochs, ‘Rayes’ – because apparently, even Anubis, the Egyptian God of the Underworld, had a name – turned towards me again. “What brings you to our gathering tonight, Thea?”

The way he asked it…it felt like he knew that I don’t belong here, but that’s just ridiculous, right? It was laced with something… else. Suspicion? Amusement? Maybe a dash of ‘I-know-you’re-a-fraud-and-I’m-patiently-waiting-for-you-to-trip-yourself-up’.

He couldn’t possibly know that I was essentially a social imposter, a Cinderella who’d snuck into the ball in borrowed glass slippers and was about to be busted when the clock struck midnight, or in this case, when this suspiciously observant man figured out I was about as out of place as a clown at a funeral… a very serious funeral.

“My cousin invited me,” I blurted out, like a confession extracted under bright lights in a cop show. Smooth, Thea, real smooth. “Casey… my cousin. From… uh… the this side of town where rich people live. You know. The… fancier side. I’m living with her.” Nailed it. Oscar-worthy performance right there. I could practically feel the golden statuette being forged in my honor. Except, you know, the statuette was probably made of lead and would be used to weigh me down in the nearest river later.

Why would I emphasize the words ‘rich’ like I wasn’t one of them? It was like there was a neon sign flashing on my forehead, blinking ‘IMPOSTER! OUTSIDER! DOES-NOT-BELONG!’. Seriously, if social awkwardness were a superpower, I’d be Captain Clumsy, defender of the socially inept and champion of cringe.

And the ‘living with her’ part? Also genius. Casey did have a guest room. I’d stayed there once, for a weekend. But ‘living with her’? That sounded… permanent. And slightly stalker-ish. Maybe I should have gone with ‘cat-sitting’? No, too pathetic. ‘House-sitting’? Still desperate. Cousin, living with her – vaguely plausible, slightly desperate, but hey, we were rolling with it now. No going back. The lie train had left the station, and I was strapped in for a bumpy, potentially derailment-filled ride.

Rayes’s gaze remained fixed on me, unwavering, like a hawk eyeing a particularly plump field mouse. And I was definitely feeling like that field mouse. Small, insignificant, and about to be devoured.

“Casey,” he repeated slowly, the name rolling off his tongue like he was tasting it, analyzing its flavor, determining its authenticity. Oh god. Was he going to know Casey? Was the ‘rich side of town’ small enough that everyone knew everyone? Were we about to enter a ‘six degrees of separation’ nightmare where Rayes would reveal that he’d played polo with Casey’s father, or worse, dated Casey’s notoriously scary older sister?

“And what is your cousin Casey’s surname, Thea?” he asked, his voice dangerously smooth, like velvet stretched over steel.

Right. Surname. Surname! Think, Thea, think! This was it. The critical moment. The point of no return. My brain, usually a whirring, overthinking machine, had suddenly decided to take a vacation. It was lounging on a beach somewhere, sipping a metaphorical cocktail, completely ignoring the social apocalypse unfolding in front of me.

Casey’s surname… Casey’s surname… It was… it was… Blank. Utterly, terrifyingly blank. My mind was a snow globe that had been shaken too vigorously, all swirling white noise and no discernible information. I knew Casey’s surname. Of course, I knew Casey’s surname! We’d been friends since kindergarten! I’d probably drunkenly shouted her surname at karaoke night at least once! But now? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Just a gaping void where crucial, friendship-saving information should have been.

Panic level: Code Red. Mayday! Mayday! Abandon ship! Except, there was no ship to abandon. I was stranded on a desert island of social ineptitude, with a Death-like interrogator and absolutely zero life rafts.

“Uh…” I stammered, my voice sounding like a rusty hinge protesting under duress.

“Casey… Casey…” Come on, brain, work with me here! Throw me a bone! Anything! A surname! A middle name! A random street address! Anything to distract him, anything to buy me another precious second of time to excavate Casey’s surname from the geological layers of my memory.

“Casey… It’s… uh…” I trailed off, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. My carefully constructed lie was crumbling around me like a poorly baked soufflé.

And Rayes? He was just standing there, watching the whole delicious disaster unfold, a hint of something – amusement? Pity? Disappointment that I wasn’t more entertaining? Or maybe he was silently laughing at me for trying to tell some lie to avoid telling him the whole truth.

The worst part was, I couldn’t even properly gauge his reaction. That blasted Anubis muzzle hid most of his face. It was probably designed to be intimidating and mysterious, but at this moment, it felt like the universe was personally mocking my social ineptitude. Like, “Oh, you want to lie to the tall, dark, and masked stranger? Here, let’s make it even more awkward by obscuring his face so you can’t even see his reaction properly! Hilarious, right?” Universe, you’re a comedian, I’ll give you that. A cruel, cosmic comedian.

“It’s Casey Duck. You probably know her,” I managed to come up with a last name, but it sounded pretty bad. Like extremely bad. Worse than bad. It was offensively bad. It was the kind of bad you’d apologize to your pet goldfish for. Why Duck? Of all the surnames in the entire English language – nay, all the surnames in every language, my brain dredged up “Duck”? Seriously? Was my subconscious trying to sabotage me? Did it secretly hate me and want to see me squirm? Because if so, mission accomplished, brain. Mission thoroughly and humiliatingly accomplished.

Duck? The hell, Thea? Internal monologue went into overdrive. Duck? You absolute buffoon. You couldn’t have come up with… I don’t know… Sterling? No, too close to the truth. Smith? Jones? Anything! But Duck? Really? Are you actively trying to make this worse? Are you auditioning for a slapstick comedy skit right now? I could practically hear my own brain facepalming in solidarity with Rayes, who, judging by the almost imperceptible twitch in his masked jaw, was probably fighting back a snort of derisive laughter.

The silence was offensive. It stretched on, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the frantic thump-thump-thump of my pulse trying to escape my chest cavity. I could practically see the tumbleweeds of awkwardness rolling between us. But then, something unexpected happened. His shoulders started shaking. Shaking quite violently, actually.

At first, I thought he was having some sort of masked-induced seizure. But then, a deep sound rumbled from beneath the Anubis' muzzle. Laughter. Unexpected, genuine, uninhibited laughter, a deep chuckle which gave me a glimpse of his sharp jaw, full white teeth on display, those lips curved into a smile.

I was so stunned by his reaction that I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth beneath that jackal mask. Anubis' muzzle hid most of his upper face, even his real eye color, so I couldn’t know his full expression.

It was like I just humiliated myself even more in this stress-fused situation, but somehow, his laughter wasn’t malicious. It wasn’t cruel. It was… amused. And, dare I say it, almost… fond? No, Thea, don't get ahead of yourself. Fond laughter after you just named your fake cousin "Casey Duck" is probably not a sign of burgeoning romance. More likely, it's the sound of someone witnessing peak human absurdity.

“Jesus Christ,” he still chuckled, the sound rumbling warmly in the dimly lit room.

My face was flaming hot from embarrassment. I was pretty sure my ears were glowing in the dark, and I wouldn't be surprised if steam was starting to emanate from my scalp.

This was it. Peak mortification. I had achieved a level of cringe that probably qualified for some kind of award. The Golden Embarrassment Trophy, perhaps? I should probably start writing my acceptance speech. Something like, “I’d like to thank my brain, for its spectacular failure, and my mouth, for so eloquently blurting out the most ridiculous surname imaginable. Without you both, this moment of profound humiliation wouldn’t have been possible.”

He finally seemed to get his laughter under control, though the occasional chuckle still escaped. He looked at me, or at least, I assumed he was looking at me behind that mask. It was hard to tell with those dark, enigmatic golden eye slits. He could be gazing intensely into my soul, or he could be admiring the pot plant in the corner, or maybe the statue behind me.

“Clumsy and adorable. Not the combination I expected.” Huh? Come again?

Then, the personal space invasion began. He stepped closer. And closer. Until my back was intimately acquainted with the cold, unforgiving surface of a rather ornate pillar.

“Don’t try to act cute now, we know you’re lying to me, Thea,” Raye’s voice dropped an octave. Suddenly, the chuckling was gone, replaced by a low, serious rumble that vibrated right down to my sensible-strapless heels. Cute? Was I acting cute? I thought I was going for ‘mildly terrified yet cringe, badly enough that you need to step away so it doesn’t catch you like a disease.’

My throat decided this was a good time to stage a minor desertification event. I gulped.

Then, Anubis decided to brace his arm above my head, you know, that classic ‘cornering someone in a dramatic movie scene’ manoeuvre. In his case, the move made him look more attractive to me.

He leaned in, his masked face looming, and all I could hear was the ominous crunch, crunch, crunch of scattered glass beneath his boots. Glass. Right. There was glass everywhere. I spilled my drink and made it shatter on the floor, which, by the way, was a little risky move for my bare legs and feet, covered by flimsy shoes. One wrong move and I can go flying and cut myself on the shards.

“Just tell me the truth, little dove. Who are you?” he whispered. Little dove? Again?

“I literally just explained to you. I’m Thea.” I said, trying to inject a healthy dose of ‘are you kidding me right now?’ into my voice. It probably came out more like ‘squeak’.

“Just Thea? Nothing else?” He tilted his head, the golden eye slits narrowing slightly, if that was even possible. Behind that mask, he was probably raising a supercilious eyebrow. I could practically feel the superciliousness radiating off him in waves.

The air around him crackled with it, this disdain, this predatory amusement. He was toying with me, like a cat with a particularly irritating, but ultimately fascinating, mouse.

“Do I need to force the words out of your mouth then? You know… You have put me in a difficult position. Truly difficult position where I don’t know what to do with you. I can’t just let you go with all of my secrets. You will jeopardize everything,” he hissed, his voice dropping even further. It was practically a whisper now, a stage whisper, but still… whispery.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken menace, punctuated only by the frantic thumping of my own heart, which felt determined to beat its way out of my ribcage.

Then, blessedly, or perhaps not, a crunch shattered the tense quiet. My heel had found a shard of something sharp, something I hadn’t even noticed in my panicked haze. Glass. Oh right.

Both our gazes dropped to the floor where a scattering of crystalline fragments glittered under the dim light, “I should clean it up,” I mumbled, the words escaping before I could censor them.

As if to punctuate my idiocy, a warm, sticky sensation blossomed on my leg. I froze, breath catching in my throat. Looking down, I saw it – a crimson trail, vivid against the pale skin of my calf, tracing a path from under the hem of my dress. Blood. My blood. Wonderful. Just what I needed.

Rayes – because that was what I’d heard them call him, during my accidental eavesdropping session – Rayes, stepped over the glistening shards, his movements fluid and unsettlingly graceful. “Clumsy, Thea, it is,” he murmured, his voice laced with a sardonic amusement that grated on my nerves. “Very clumsy indeed.”

Before I could even formulate a protest, before I could even process the fact that he was advancing again, his hands were on me. Strong hands, surprisingly gentle despite the undercurrent of danger they radiated. They locked around my waist, and in one swift, effortless motion, I was lifted. Lifted clean off my feet, my gasp caught in my throat as he hoisted me against his chest. My eyes, wide and panicked, locked onto the cold, gilded surface of the jackal mask inches from my face.

“W-what are you…put me down!” The words were breathless, a desperate plea lost in the sudden rush of adrenaline. He ignored me, of course. Why wouldn’t he? He was a masked enigma in a hall, full of ancient secrets, apparently plotting world domination or something equally dramatic, and I was… well, I was just Thea, clumsy and bleeding and utterly out of my depth.

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