The next day, I wake to the sound of my phone buzzing a notification on the bedside table. Fumbling for the phone, I squint at the screen as I roll onto my back. It’s noon.
And there’s a text back from Stefanos. My heartbeat practically rings in my ears.
Missed your message last night. And I’m okay thanks
Sitting up, I chew my lip.
I can’t stop thinking about what happened. I’m sorry I left you to deal with everything alone
There’s a long pause. Stefanos is probably trying to come up with a polite way to tell me to fuck off. I watch him type and pause for an agonizingly long time, then start typing again.
It’s okay. I asked you to leave, remember?
I wish I was there to help
Which sparks another long episode of watching Stefanos type. I sag against the pillows and wait. Then he stops typing altogether. I slowly let go of the breath I was holding.
No message comes after a few minutes.
Is there anything I can do from here? Is your father still there? Miss you x
Then, there’s nothing at all. For a moment, I sag into the mattress and pillows to let defeat wash over me.
Excellent. I’ve officially blown it with Stefanos. With a groan, I force myself out of bed to start the day. And I do my best to not think obsessively about Stefanos, which definitely doesn’t help my situation. Or his either. It changes nothing.
Get a grip.
Sunday is long. Mamma checks in on me. I run ten kilometers on the treadmill and steam myself after in the shower. I wash the windows. I do three loads of laundry. I pace what must be another ten kilometers through my flat. I try and fail to read my book several times over and instead doomscroll social media, a terrible idea. I swear off social media for the rest of my life, or at least for the day. Until I go down a YouTube rabbit hole about the history of the Greek monarchy. I make an elaborate salmon dinner with steamed veg.
In the midst of putting dishes into the dishwasher, my phone buzzes again. I pounce on it like I have all day with every incoming message—but this time, Stefanos’ name glows bright on the screen.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Stefanos calls me. On a video call, no less. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t video. Or a call. Or to see Stefanos again. Either a real or a digital version.
Quickly, I run a hand through my hair, force myself to act a lot more chill than I am, then freeze as the phone continues to ring. With a shake of my head to get it together, I answer the phone as nonchalantly as I can muster. The death grip on my phone remains. I flop on my sofa in an effort to look like I don’t have a care in the world.
“Hey,” I offer breezily. “Figured I’d hit the blacklist and was cut off.”
Stefanos snorts. “Do you want to be on the blacklist?”
“Mm, probably not,” I drawl, giving him an appreciative look because there’s a lot to appreciate, and I’m not going to miss the opportunity now that it’s been given to me.
His expression eases. A hint of a smile curls his lips, an offering, and something lightens in me that I haven’t ruined things for good. “I’m sorry for not getting back to you earlier. My dad was here. He’s gone as of tonight. For now.”
“Would this call be fraternizing with the enemy?” I ask curiously. “If he knows you’re talking to me?”
“Well, I don’t think he’d put it like that. And he doesn’t know. Which is how I like it.”
“How would you put it if he asked? About who you were calling?” Unable to keep my curiosity in check, I have to ask. I study the angles of Stefanos’ face, the tumble of his wavy hair, the appealing curve of his jaw. The way his expression shifts as he takes stock of me, contemplative. I love how seriously he’s taking my question, as if it has real weight.
As if my question means something important to him.
“I’m calling… a friend.”
“A friend? Am I your friend?” I ask, catching my breath. I lift my eyebrows. We’re in this strange space, not lovers, not dating. But definitely more than acquaintances. Someone who I definitely want to be a lover. And yet, somehow, Stefanos feels like more than a lover. Maybe it’s because of the permanent bond two men have when they sink a yacht together. Or maybe Stefanos is the positive influence I need in my life. And if that’s as his friend, I’ll gladly take it. Anything more feels like an impossible dream. But then, I can’t stop thinking about the way we kissed in his entryway. The sensation of his mouth on mine. His desire. My lips burn at the memory.
Stefanos chews one of the strings of his hoodie. He sits on the sofa I remember from his Kerkyra flat. There’s a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you’re not quite an enemy.”
