“Fine, I doubt you’re brave enough to eat anything I’d cook. We’d both end up at the hospital for sure.” He gestures to the cupboards. “Make yourself at home, but if you’re cooking, I’m doing the dishes.”
“That, I can agree to. Where are your knives?”
He points to the left, and after three more questions about bowls, pans, and cutting boards, I wash the vegetables and start dicing while Theo sits at the breakfast bar, bombarding me with question after question. During the hour it takes to prepare food, he fills five pages with neat handwriting, listening to every word I say about Greek mythology.
He opens two more beers when I start serving, heat flaring my cheeks when I glance around. I’m not what you’d call a tidy cook. Some women clean as they go along, but not me. I’m too impatient and focused on cooking to do the dishes. Bowls, forks, spatulas, and pans litter the countertop. Theo’s kitchen never was this messy before, I’m sure.
“It smells amazing,” Theo says, dipping his head to inhale some more when I set a plate of souvlakis with a side of Greek salad, chips, and tzatziki dip before him. “If it tastes as good as it smells and looks...” He takes a bite of the chicken skewer, chewing sluggishly, and his eyes roll back into his head. His chest rises abruptly as he lets out a lavish groan.
“Good?” I ask, burning up as that low, satisfied groan loops inside my head and I... I can’t... God, I can’t think straight. I stuff my mouth with salad, coming down from the high, absolutely mystified that he can turn me one with one sound.
“Good?” he mumbles. “Where the hell did you learn to cook like this? It’s delicious.”
“Greeks love food, Theo. You’d struggle to find a Greek woman who can’t cook, and I went to a culinary school, so that helped.”
I’ve cooked for many people but watching Theo polish the food with a blissful, boyish smile that looks sexy but out of place on a man of his stature is so satisfying. Sitting with him at the table, talking, smiling, and laughing while Ares scratches my legs, begging for scraps, is very close to happiness.
A feeling that eluded me for almost two years.
“That was so damn good.” He pushes the empty plate aside, wiping his lips with a napkin. “Thank you.”
Once I finish, he starts cleaning up the mess I’ve made. I wrap the leftovers in plastic on a clean plate, so he’ll have lunch ready for tomorrow, then dry the dishes and stash them away while Theo wipes the counters and grabs two more beers.
Ares sleeps in his bed, but his ears perk up when we move to the living room. He leaps on the sofa, making himself comfortable in my lap, and Theo opens his laptop, showing me the graphics for his game.
“What do you think?” He gets comfortable beside me, the intoxicating scent of his cologne tickling my nose again.
“Persephone looks amazing, and so does Hades,but, and I don’t mean to offend you, Zeus with that lightning bolt looks ancient. He’s the god of thunder, so why not take inspiration from the pop culture’s equivalent?”
“You mean Thor?”
I snatch a notepad and pen from the coffee table, roughly sketching the image in my head—a tall, broad man with white hair and beard. He radiates lightning out of his hands, and his eyes sparkle with the same stark whiteness.
Theo’s silent as if not to disturb me. He’s scratching Ares behind the ears, his forearm resting against my thigh. My entire body is swamped with intense heat at the touch. It’s been too long since anyone touched me like this.
“You never said you’re an artist,” he complains when I hand him the notepad. “Quite the talent you’ve got there.”
“There are many things you don’t know about me.” I readjust the puppy, cuddling him to my chest. As soon as I rent my own place, I’m getting a dog, too. “This is how I imagine Zeus. A modern incarnation.”
He studies the drawing a while longer before he closes the notepad, setting it on the side table by the couch. “You cook like a pro, draw, and you’re obviously great with dogs.” He points at the rubber ball that’s out of treats and kept Ares occupied for an hour while I cooked. “What else?”
“We should save this for another day,” I say, looking out the window where the sun has already set, dusk fast approaching. “It’s getting late.”
He checks the time on his cell. Several unanswered messages from what I think is a group chat wait on the screen, but he doesn’t bother reading them. “It’s only nine o’clock. Come on, one more beer, and I’ll order you a cab.”
“No, thank you, I’ll walk.”
“No way I’ll let you walk, Thalia. The motel’s like, what? Four miles away?”
“Five, actually.”
His face flashes with recognition, and he almost chokes on a sip of beer. “Don’t tell me you walktothe Country Club every fucking day.”
I bite my cheek, chuckling softly. “Okay, I won’t.”
“You walk?” he growls, and Ares lifts his head, watching him with bright, curious eyes. “Why?”
“It’s not that far and only takes an hour and a half. Fresh air never killed anyone.” I cuff his arm, squeezing lightly. “I can afford a cab, Theo. The tips are great, but I’d rather save money and get out of the motel as soon as possible.” The moldy, dusty odor lingers in my hair and clothes, even straight after a shower, as if I’m starting to decompose while living in room thirteen.