“Me,” he answered. I barely made it out. “Us, I guess.”
That was definitely on my mind too.
Someone shifted in the back, and Orestes turned sideways in the passenger seat. “There goes Pollux.”
His chin had dipped to his chest. Only Paris, Orestes, and I were awake.
“I've been thinking about that too,” Paris said. “Us. Athena. You. Me. All of us.”
Red brake lights lit up in front of me, and I slowed. Concentrating on the road gave me a chance to gather my thoughts.
But I couldn't.
My feelings overwhelmed me, and I couldn't, if my life depended on it, figure out what to say.
“Does it bother you?” Paris asked. “How we feel?”
They hadn't exactly told me how they felt. Achilles had, sort of. And I knew there was an attraction. Theylikedme. But was it deeper than that?
I teetered on the edge of love. It was easy for me. No one had ever treated me the way they did—with respect and affection.
But was that it? Was that how deep it went for them? Maybe it was the novelty of having someone who knew their secrets that attracted them. Maybe they'd decide I was friendship material.
For god's sake, look at them! I snuck a peek over my shoulder at Paris, then pretended to rub my chin on my shoulder.
The man was,fuck.
AndOrestes?With those broad shoulders and that kind way he had of looking at me with his golden eyes.
They were way the hell out of my league by like, a billion.
But I also didn't want to come right out and voice my doubts, because I knew I was more than my looks. The thing was, deep inside, in those places that had been shaped by the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally, I struggled to believe it. Each time I thought,I'm smart, I heard my mother's voice telling me I was a mess. And when I told myself I had accomplished so much, my father's voice chimed in with,“I'm surprised you can't find a hairstyle to suit you.”
While I might rationalize that I was more than my looks, I didn't know if I believed it.
But with the guys, there were levels upon levels of depth. There was their beauty and strength, and then there was who they were and what they'd survived.
What if they weren't perfect? Paris had a handsome face, but he had some deep-seated issues with guilt, and Orestes had murdered his mother.
That sort of put it all in perspective for me.
“I worry you might not end up feeling what you think you feel,” I finally answered.
And then where would I be? I didn't think I'd be able to dial back my feelings if they changed their minds.
“That's the risk, though, isn't it?” Orestes countered. He lifted his thick, dark brows. “Learning more about a person and going from there.”
“Do you think I'll change my mind when I know more about you?” I asked. It was one of those instances of my mouth moving faster than my brain. Orestes didn't move at the same speed other people did, and I was okay with that. I hadn't wanted to push him to reveal things before he was ready. “I didn't mean to put you on the spot.”
“No.” His answer came quietly and slowly. “I do think you'll change your mind. Achilles, Hector, Pollux, Paris—they killed because they were at war. I didn't for the same reason. And I didn't kill an enemy.”
“Do you...” I hesitated. “Do you want to talk about it? You don't have to,” I added quickly.
“You've got the bare bones, anyway, right?”
“What's in theOdysseyand theOresteia.” I referenced the epic poem by Homer, and the Greek tragedy that bore Orestes's name. “I know what everyone knows.If libations were proper to pour above the slain, this man deserved, more than deserved, such sacrament. He filled our cup with evil things unspeakable and now himself come home has drunk it to the dregs.”
Orestes nodded. “That line was about my father. And truer words were never written. He sacrificed what he should have protected and never once did he second-guess himself. The story is easier to digest when it's about the gods. It creates a distance that didn't exist.”