I glance down and notice a silver key chain. Bringing it closer to my face, I read the words that are engraved in beautiful cursive.
Will you be my girlfriend?
Yes. My heart fills with joy as my fingertips tingle in anticipation. Although I want to jump in his arms and say yes a thousand times, I keep my feet rooted to the ground.
When I glance up at him, nerves and self-doubt are clear on his face as he waits for my answer, which makes me feel awful. Why would he even doubt my feelings when I’ve opened up so much? I’m absolutely head over heels for him already.
“How do you say yes in Greek?” I ask, making his mouth lift into the most breathtaking smile.
“Naí,” he says proudly. His tongue rolls sexily as he pronounces theN.
What did I do to deserve a sexy Greek guy like him? Nothing, but I’m not complaining.
He pulls me by my hips, and I whisper against his mouth, “Naí.”
Our lips connect in a slow, passionate kiss. My hands entangle in his silky hair, and his lay tightly on my hips. He drags my body into him, and I melt into his arms. I can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. I’m in a relationship with the most caring and understanding guy I’ve ever met.
“Thank you,” he whispers against my temple when we pull away.
“What are you thanking me for? I should be doing all the thanking,” I claim, leaning my chin on his broad shoulder.
“Thank you for liking me for me.”
I pull away from his body and frown at him. “Of course. That’s never something you need to thank me for.”
What’s going on inside his head?
He smiles sadly at me. A second later, he replaces his sad smile with a brighter one. “Let’s race.” He winks at me and runs back to his car.
“Look who has a racing kink now,” I joke, poking fun at him.
Shrugging, he screams hotness as he takes steps back toward his car. “Won’t deny that you racing my car turns me on.”
Cue the thousand, million, billion butterflies in my stomach.
Game on.
“You’ll regret this,” I yell back at him.
Getting into my new car, I squeal at the interior. It’s amazing. With real black leather, it smells like a new car. It’s in perfect condition, and what makes me laugh—and miss that Leonidas has zoomed out of the parking lot—is the picture of Elijah’s head taped onto a hula girl dancer that rocks back and forth on the dashboard.
After our race, which I totally won—well, not really—we stop in front of Leonidas’s house. He drops off his car and climbs into mine.
“Let’s hear this bitch roar,” he says before I slam my foot down on the pedal.
The trees and clouds around us blur as we fly down the road. It seems as if Leonidas and I couldn’t care less about the cop who could be hiding to catch me speeding.
All I seem to notice is the feeling of his hand in mine and the way he smiles down at me.
* * *
I hate myself.
I despise the position Mom has put me in.
I’m being forced to meet her new boyfriend and his son today. Mom invited them over for dinner. To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I’m not good with new people. I never know how to act and what to say.
Mom didn’t give me a heads-up, which I would have appreciated. She just walked into my room last night—and thankfully didn’t see Leonidas hiding in the closet. She informed me with a firm voice that she wanted me to meet him. I wanted to argue, but I saw the fire in her eyes.
