Page 90 of Holding Out for a Gyro
I leaned against the passenger side door, gazing at his strong hands on the steering wheel, at his forearms where he’d pushed his sleeves up. Oblivious to my objectification of his beauty, hehummed joyfully to the music on the radio, cursed other drivers in his adorably curmudgeonly way, and at one point shot me such a saucy eye fuck I wanted to climb over the console and straddle him.
I couldn’t lose this. I made up my mind to fight for him with everything I had.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Basil
Challenge: Do something new
How had it only been two weeks since I’d seen Chelsea? As busy as I’d been with my uncle’s restaurant and the massive itinerary of family visits, I thought she’d be out of sight, out of mind, but instead, I thought about her constantly. The bracelet I’d never taken off made sure I couldn’t forget her. I imagined her tasting everything I created in the kitchen, and when I toured the Acropolis, I pictured her joy exploring the ruin. I had nobody to annoy by saying, “You Odyssey this view.”
That’s when I realized how fucked I was. I’d missed her as soon as I left Charlottesville, but I’d expected that feeling to fade with time, distance, and a new focus. Instead, I found myself talking to her ghost.
But she was here now, in my rental car, watching me like I was dipped in chocolate. I squeezed her knee, and she said, “I’ve really missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
She looked so cute with her hair in pigtail braids and giant sunglasses perched on her head. I’d missed how her mouth could go from a pout to a mischievous smirk in the blink of an eye, how her eyes flashed her every emotion, how her body made me want to pull off the road and throw back the seats, and how she made me feel comfortable in my own skin just by being there.
I didn’t know how to answer the question she’d asked in Saint-Tropez about my plans for the future. Or was she asking aboutourfuture?
The truth was, once I’d arrived in Athens, I saw the potential of working in my uncle’s hotel for a year or two. I’d have creative control over the menu, a staff to assist with the preparations, and a chance, finally, to make something of myself and prove my worth to my family. I was bursting with ideas, and I felt proud of my work for the first time in forever.
If I kept a shit job in Charlottesville on the slim hope Chelsea and I could ever make a go of it, my life would become endless stagnation. I had no guarantees we’d work out, but how could I explain all that without making her feel pressured to commit one way or another? I just wanted a chance to show her possibilities.
As much as I loved her, I had to change the trajectory of my life somehow, with or without her. I’d rather it be with her, but I needed to start thinking about my future. She’d been the one to spur me to action.
My secret hope was that, once we got to the hotel, she’d fall in love with the sea and the proximity to Athens, and she might even invoke her vow to drop anchor somewhere foreign. If I decided to take my uncle’s job, it would be so much sweeter with her by my side, wherever my career took me, but I didn’t want to lure her with exotic locales. I wanted her to stay because she wanted me. I wanted her to chooseme.
I pulled off the A8 so we could drive along the coast through Cannes and Antibes on the way toward Nice, and Chelsea asked, “Where are we headed?”
“Well, we’ll be in Nice in about an hour. We could stay there tonight or press on to Monte Carlo.”
She clapped her hands and bounced in her seat. “Oooooh! Monte Carlo! Yes, please!”
Chelsea gaped out the window, endlessly captivated, and sharing any info she found on the phone, so when we reachedNice, I found parking to give her a chance to experience more of France before we left the country behind. “Let’s stretch our legs.”
We strolled along the beach, made up of smooth rocks, and Chelsea pocketed one, telling me, “Maybe I’ll steal some piece of every place we visit. That way, when I get home, I’ll still be able to touch a part of the world.”
At her mention of home, I took the opening to broach the subject of an alternate plan, casually asking, “Do you still dream about going on vacation and then never returning home?” I was about as subtle as an asteroid.
She slipped her hand over my biceps and leaned her head on my shoulder. “You want to know a secret?”
“Sure.”
“I’m kind of a coward.” She squeezed my arm. “I love visiting all these places, and I get so bored in Charlottesville, but when I think seriously about moving away, I panic. It’s a big change. I couldn’t do it alone, and it would take a seismic event to get Elizabeth to leave Virginia.”
Did that mean she’d leave if she had a partner, or only if Elizabeth specifically went with her? I wanted to ask,What about us?Except there was no “us.” We were a couple of friends on the verge of becoming an “us,” and I didn’t know what it was reasonable to ask of her.
But then she surprised me by walking right into the discussion I’d been avoiding. “So youarethinking of staying here.”
“I’m thinking.”
“But you won’t, right? You’d never leave me behind.” She bit her lip, hiding a flirty smile, and I couldn’t tell if she was serious or teasing.
So I bailed with a dumb joke. “Go big, or go Homer.” When she winced, I said, “My Apollo-gies,” waited a beat and repeated, “Apollo. Gies,” enjoying her eye roll and reluctant laugh. I’d been saving those for days.
The sky was overcast, and a cold breeze caused us to shiver, so we climbed back in the car and continued along the curvy road as the sun set.
