Then my phone chimes. Dropping everything, I run to the next room, skidding on my socks to the table.
I might be in Athens too. Headed to Corfu x
Well, well. The grin on my face is so broad it practically hurts. I clutch my phone in amazement. Right. Pretend to be calm.
Maybe drinks if we’re in the same place at the same time? X
I know a place in Athens. Just tell me when you’re here, we’ll make a plan
Look at that. Punctuation and everything. Points for literacy.
He’s already got points for being quietly adorable, even post-flattening. The fact that he still wants to talk to me is beyond brilliant. My heart pounds, even though there’s nothing going on. In fact, I don’t know a thing about him. Which isn’t a requirement for a bit of fun, even if it’s only some light flirting.
Hope I didn’t ruin your clothes
Everything comes out in the wash they say
A boy can hope #goals x
I flop on my bed, rolling onto my back as I grin broadly. No text comes after that, so I lie there holding my phone, imagining where Stefanos might be or what he’s doing. Probably something princely. Or, who knows.
Which leads me to an indulgent internet search.
Stefanos is one of four siblings, the third of four brothers. A tingle runs along my spine as I take him in on an image search like my own personal Pinterest board. Stefanos, on horseback, laughing. Stefanos by the sea, one of my favorite Stefanos looks, wearing a pale linen shirt as he leans on a stone balustrade, wind ruffling his dark hair. Stefanos, looking pensive in an oak-paneled library in a cable-knit sweater. Wikipedia tells me he finished university last year at St Andrew’s, with his Master’s in Classics and Archaeology. He’s twenty-four years old, a little younger than me, and obviously a whole lot smarter.
After indulging myself in daydreaming about Stefanos for a few minutes, I get back to the fine art of stuffing my suitcase with more clothes and novels before going to sit down at my laptop and booking a flight to Athens later that day, along with a hotel. Something frees in my chest, and at last, I can take a deep breath for the first time in days.
* * *
Heathrow, as ever, is a circus as cars approach through the slosh of traffic. Rain falls sideways under the gloom of clouds. People come and go, and sometimes I swear people come just to stand around. Miles gives me a sidelong glance in the taxi. He’s been an excellent sport about accommodating me.
I pay my taxi fare once I’m taken to my special departures area and soon whisked off on a cart through the secret channels of the airport to the private lounge to wait for my flight. Beyond the expansive window, airplanes taxi in and out in their own rhythm. I find some rosé to pretend it’s the height of summer rather than blustery old London in early spring. Delusional, that’s me.
Slipping out of my wool coat, I leave my mohair scarf wrapped around my neck against the air con that runs even in this weather. Or maybe someone’s left a door open somewhere. I fidget with my novel, rereading the same page three times before tucking it away again.
Then, showing no self-restraint, I search Aidan’s social media and scroll. Which shows him ensconced with his new groom, who admittedly is a bit of a dish, but it doesn’t make me feel one bit better and, in fact, a whole lot worse. In the latest photo, they look like they’re taking a selfie in a stable, no less.
My face burns as I quickly swipe out of the app and tuck my phone away as my flight’s called to board. Last on, I’m tucked into first class to the sound of overhead bins being clicked shut. Let them shut away my worries too. I put on my over-ear headphones and open my novel again.
And we fly.
Chapter Eleven
It turns out I don’t need my winter coat in Athens. A hazy orange hangs over the city under the watch of the Acropolis. The mild afternoon warmth hits me as I’m first off the plane, down a set of steps into a waiting vehicle to take me to the terminal. Humidity clings. I unbutton my coat and loosen my scarf.
At the building, I get another escort with Miles through secret passages out to the waiting car from the hotel. I flop into the leather back seat as the driver puts my bag in the back. We navigate the early evening stop-and-start traffic.
Already, something lightens in my chest. Escaping London and my problems for a hot minute obviously is the right life choice.
Naturally, to complete the full diversion cycle, I message Stefanos. I lean my head back against the headrest and tap away.
Why is the sky orange in Athens? X
My phone chimes as a reply comes moments later. Sweet reward.
We do that to confuse the tourists X
Your strategy worked, congrats]\
