“That’s beautiful.” I pump my fists, fidgeting in the seat, itching to graze my fingers over the black lines. “I’ve been thinking about a tattoo for years, but I’ve got a very low pain threshold, and I’m afraid I’ll pass out.”
“You can ask for an anesthetic these days, but it’s really not that bad. When you’re ready for ink, let me know. I’ll take you to Toby’s studio. He’s the best around here.”
The design I’ve been sitting on for at least five years flashes before my eyes—a floral dream catcher on my thigh. For now, I don’t have enough money to waste on ink, but one day, when I can afford it, I’ll pluck the courage and ticktattoooff my bucket list.
“So, what do you do in that office? Why do you need five monitors?”
“I design games. Mostly web-based, but I’ve been working on a large-scale project for a while now.”
He tells me about the idea and how he spent the last four years developing the multi-universe game. He uses many technical terms, and I often stop him, asking for a synonym or an explanation, but he’s patient and doesn’t seem to mind explaining the words.
“If you want, I could help you with that,” I say after he tells me the game is centered around Greek Gods. “My father was fascinated with mythology. He taught myths at a college in Athens when I was younger.”
“That’d be great. I’ve done the research, but it’d be nice if you could check it over before I finalize the project.”
“Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”
Theo wipes condensation from the glass with his thumb, then lifts it to his raspberry lips. My ovaries start the tug-of-war again, the primitive thrill of arousal in the highest gear, tingling at the backs of my thighs.
He might not realize what he’s doing, but I’m burning up as he grazes his thumb across his lower lip.
He’s lost in thought for a moment before he drops his hand back to the glass, blissfully unaware of my wild thoughts.
We spend an hour talking and take our time with the coffee. The ice has long melted in mine, but I savor small sips like the nectar of the gods, asking every question that comes to mind.
It’s nice to talk to someone. It’s nice not to be locked in the stinky motel room.
I’m still getting used to functioning in society again and not voicing my thoughts after spending eighteen months talking aloud to myself just to hear a voice. It’s a miracle I’ve not gone mad, isolated in the tiny cabin in the woods my grandfather built before my mother was born.
I inherited it when he passed away six years ago, and I always loved the tranquility of the vast lake and the secluded, deserted area. I grew to despise the four walls while I hid there, only leaving once a week for supplies.
“Hold that thought,” Theo says when I’m about to ask another question. He strides to the cashier and comes back a moment later with two more coffees in takeout cups, gesturing for me to follow him outside. “I bet you’ve not been to the beach yet.” He hands me one cup, pointing ahead. “There’s a nice restaurant around the corner with an ocean view. You’re Greek, so I assume you like seafood. Their lobster is great.”
“Coffee’s enough, but the beach sounds fun. Have you lived here your whole life?”
“Born and raised. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I guess that’s why I find you fascinating. You’ve got some balls packing up your life and starting afresh here.”
“Sometimes, all you can do is change the scenery.”
And sometimes, you have no other choice than run and hope your past doesn’t decide to follow.
We reach the beach, and I kick my shoes off and wiggle my toes, enjoying the softness and warmth of the sand under my bare feet as we walk closer to the water. People sunbathe on towels and sun loungers, and kids run around kicking balls or making sandcastles. Surfers sit on their boards, shaking their heads, unhappy with the low, lazy waves.
I plop down close to the water’s edge, letting the waves crash against my feet. Theo stays back, pushing his shades further up his nose while I shield my eyes with my hand, tilting my head to the side.
“Teach me Greek,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence. “How do you sayhello?”
“You said that you know a few words. I would’ve expectedhellotobe on the list.”
“I know words I had to translate for the game.Welcomeinstead ofhello.”
“Chaírete.”
“Chaírete.” He catches onto the accent perfectly. My native language in his mouth, coupled with the raspy note of his voice, sounds too appealing and too sexy.
“Yes, good. Now say,antío.”
“Antío,” he echoes. “I guess that meansbye?”