by Raye Wagner
The smell of coconut-lime wafted into the bedroom where Hope lay on Dahlia’s king-sized bed. “Well?” she asked, rolling onto her back. Her head dropped over the edge, and everything was upside down.
“His name is Harrison. Second year law at UW. Six foot two and Scandinavian . . . I think.” Dahlia brushed mascara over her lashes.
“Do you like him?”
Dahlia snorted.
“You don’t?”
Silence.
Hope flipped over and sat up. “You don’t like him, but you’re going out with him?”
Dahlia continued to apply mascara to her thick lashes. When she finished, she stared at the tube, twisting it over and over in her hand. “He’s hot. And fun. We’re going to that skydiving place in Renton.” But she remained focused on the purple tube.
“But you don’t like him?” Hope insisted.
“Of course I like him. He’s nice, too.” Dahlia frowned, and her gaze rested on Hope for only a moment before darting back to her hands “Why the inquisition?”
“You know it’s not going anywhere. You’re dating him, and he might be in love with you, but you’re going to break his heart—” The thought of her playing some poor guy was upsetting.
Frowning, Dahlia set the mascara down and looked at Hope. “Are we still talking about me, ’cause you’re getting really worked up over poor Nelson?”
“I thought you said his name was Harrison?”
Dahlia chuckled and waved her hand, but her skin tinged pink. “So I did.” She came over and sat on the edge of the bed next to Hope. “What’s the matter? Are you still pining over Athan?”
“No.” Hope bit her lip. “Well, maybe a little, but that has nothing to do with you . . .” She waved her arms.
“Dating a lot?” Dahlia raised her eyebrows. “Sleeping around?”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You probably thought it, though.” Dahlia exhaled. “I’m not going to talk about my current relationships with you because, quite frankly, they are none of your business. But I don’t sleep around.”
That was fair. It wasn’t any of Hope’s business, but still. “Why would you go out with someone you don’t like?”
“I do like Harrison. And Nelson, too. But it’s just for fun, you know?” Dahlia tipped her head back, and she gazed into the air above her. She sighed, and the hard exterior dropped. “You better hand me my phone.” She pointed at the bedside table.
Hope rolled over, grabbed it, and then handed it to her friend. “Why do you need your phone?”
Dahlia scrunched up her face. “Because I’m going to cancel on poor Harrison. You and I are going on a double date instead.”
Wait, what? “I don’t want to go on a date.”
“Too bad. I think you’ll like Ben and Jerry.”
Hope immediately got the reference and laughed. “Why? What did I say?”
“Nothing. But after we get done talking, all I’m going to want to do is watch stupid rom-coms and eat ice cream.”
A few minutes later, they were both in pajamas. Hope tugged at the ribbed tank and lacy shorts Dahlia had given her.
“Come on.” Dahlia led the way down to the kitchen and flipped on the light.
Hope prayed no one else would see her.
“I met Roan about . . .” Dahlia frowned and closed her eyes. “About fifty years ago, I think. We were both at a concert. It was loud and hot and wild.” She opened her eyes and then the freezer. “I spilled my drink down his shirt.”
Hope shook her head. “How embarrassing.”
Dahlia laughed. “I did it on purpose.” She grabbed two pints of ice cream and then handed one to Hope. “Chubby Hubby okay?”
Hope shrugged. She didn’t much care for ice cream, but she wasn’t about to tell Dahlia that.
“Would you rather have Chunky Monkey or Boom Chocolatte?”
“This is fine.” Hope pulled the lid off and took a small bite, avoiding the bits of chocolate covered somethings and dark and caramel colored swirls. Cold sweetness was all she could taste.
“It’s my favorite.” Dahlia led the way back to her bedroom. “Anyway, I wanted to meet him, and it was all I could think of.” She stopped as if remembering something. “Actually, it was Xan’s idea. He said the lads had been known to do it a time or two, and it usually worked.” She tilted her head to the side. “It goes to show you how desperate I was that I would listen to my cousin.”
Hope sat down on the bed, sinking into the softness. She took another tentative bite, and salty peanut butter cut through the sweetness. “You dumped your drink on him so you could meet him?”
“Correct. All down the front of him. Then I offered to clean it up, but he laughed and pulled his shirt off.”
Hope blushed.
“Don’t be a prude. It’s not like we had sex right there. He only took off his shirt. Anyway, then he did this gesture”—Dahlia raised her hand, palm up—“as if to tell me it was okay, and then he turned away.”
“Really?” Hope had a hard time believing anyone could turn away from Dahlia, and lifted her eyebrows. “Are you embellishing the story?”
Dahlia snickered. “No, seriously. He was there with his mates and had just ended a relationship, and he was definitely not looking for another.”
“What did you do?”
“The concert was almost over, and I was getting desperate.”
Hope raised her eyebrows as she ate more ice cream. The combination of salty and sweet was growing on her.
“I took his shirt, and when he tried to grab it back, I kissed him.”
“You kissed him?” Hope had no idea if that was a bad thing or not. She couldn’t imagine kissing someone she’d just met, but hookups happened all the time now, right? Had they been uncommon fifty years ago? Or had that all been part of the sexual revolution?
“Roan broke it off, took his shirt, and frowned at me. ‘You shouldn’t kiss someone if you don’t mean it,’ he said. ‘It’s a rule.’” Dahlia’s eyes filled with tears. “We got married two months later.” Tears dripped down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
“You married him?” It wasn’t that Hope couldn’t believe someone wanting to marry her friend, but the idea of Dahlia settling down was a little hard to fathom.
Dahlia’s emotion hung heavy between them. “We had our honeymoon at Half Moon Bay.”
Oh gods. No wonder she’d been mad at Hope and Xan when they’d gone to California. “At that hotel?”
Dahlia nodded. The tears continued to fall, and she grabbed the duvet and wiped her red-rimmed eyes, sniffling again and again. “I always meant it with Roan. Everything.” She glanced up at Hope. “But it didn’t matter.”
Even before Dahlia started her story, Hope had known it didn’t have a happy ending.
“What happened?” As soon as she asked, she knew it was rude. The pain that crossed Dahlia’s face was shocking. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.” But Hope was curious.
Dahlia hiccupped then leaned over and grabbed several tissues from a box on the nightstand. “I know what you’re thinking. Everyone thinks it. Why would anyone want to stay with me, right?”
“No!” How could Dahlia even think that?
“It’s okay. But he didn’t leave.”
Hope wasn’t sure what to say. She definitely didn’t want to make it worse. Whatever tore them apart had to be bad.
Dahlia sopped at the tears and wiped her nose. “We were married for five years.” She held up her hand, her fingers splayed. “Five years.”
Hope held her breath.
“And then he disappeared.” Dahlia waved her arms across her chest. “Gone.” She searched through the tissues, picked a less wet one, and then scrubbed her face. “Anyway, you shouldn’t lead my cousin on.”
Hope’s jaw dropped. Where did that come from?
“If you’re not interested, don’t make him think you are.”
Her denial stuck in her thro
at, like a pretzel had lodged somewhere it shouldn’t. She coughed then cleared her throat. “What are you talking about?”
Dahlia flopped back on her bed and covered her eyes with her arm. “You’re either really naïve, Hope, or really manipulative.” She sat back up and glared. “I don’t think you’re smart enough to play him, though.”
And somehow that was an insult. Should she be manipulative? Would what Dahlia was accusing her of make more sense?
“Xan likes you. You have to know. It’s all over his face. In everything he does. Ugh. It makes me sick,” Dahlia said.
Hope poked her spoon into the soupy mess that surrounded the still-formed ice cream and swirled it around. The chocolate darkened the white ice cream, blending it into a latte brown. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Xan liked her, and she liked him. But like that? Honestly, she couldn’t make heads or tails of her feelings for him.
“I’m sorry, Hope. I’m being a Gorgon. I think it would be best if you left me alone tonight. I’m not going to be very good company.”
Certainly not. Hope scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up. Why did pain make people inflict pain on others? The discomfort nagging at her heart was a physical ache, and she hurt for Dahlia, Athan, and even a little for herself.
Dahlia’s dark eyes were bright with tears. She offered a smile, but it seemed like it made her sick.
“Do you want me to take your ice cream?” Hope pointed at the other container, the lid still on.
Dahlia held out the carton. “Thanks.”
Hope grabbed it and stared at her friend. She wished she knew what to say to make it better. Maybe she should give Dahlia a hug, but the idea made Hope nervous. A sense of helplessness filled her, and she walked to the door. “I’m sorry, Dahlia.”
The beautiful young demigod rolled onto her side, facing the wall, her back to the door and Hope.
There was nothing else to say, so Hope left.
THE HOUSE WAS QUIET, and after a lonely dinner of leftovers, Hope found her way to the study with one of the last books of the Moirai. As she read, her mind continued to drift to Athan, and she wondered if she was going to miss her opportunity to talk to him before Xan came back. Then she thought about what Dahlia had said. Xan was in love with her, but would he even like her if he knew what she was? Would she ever be free to be herself? And if she was, would anyone really care for her?
She heard laughter outside, and the front door banged open.
“Na pari I eychi! Skata! Skata!”
Then the door slammed shut and someone shuffled into the foyer. The speech was slightly slurred as he continued, “Geia sou?”
Something thudded to the floor in the entryway.
“Geia sou?” a man with a deep voice shouted.
Hope pulled herself out of the chair and stuck her head into the entryway.
There stood a young man only slightly taller than she was. A large duffle bag lay on the floor of the foyer, and the man’s head was moving side to side. His curly black hair stuck up wildly, and his skin was tawny beige. She was struck with his prominent features, a wide nose that was slightly crooked, and generous lips. He grinned, revealing a chip on his front tooth.
“Ah, hello.” His accent was thick and guttural. “I am Dion, Dionysus’s son.” He stepped forward and extended his hand.
Hope took his hand and shook it once before letting it go. Alcohol exuded from him and hung thickly in the air.
“I’m Hope.”
“Hope, yes. It’s nice to meet you. Aren’t you oraios?” His blurry eyes inspected her. “Yes, quite beautiful, no?”
Hope blushed and ducked her head.
“Malista, aye. Umm, is there room for me?”
“Room for you?” Hope glanced around as if looking for answers. “What?”
“Domatio? A place for me to sleep?” He pointed to his bag.
“Oh, a room.” Right. She was an idiot. “I’m not really sure where . . . Let me go find Dahlia.”
“Ah, Dahlia is here? Fantastikos!” He grinned again.
His enthusiasm was contagious. And she giggled. Footsteps in the hall drew their attention, and then Athan came out from the kitchen.
“Athan!” Dion yelled his name with gusto. “It is aprosmeno kalo you are here, no? Thavmasios to see you, adelfos.” He embraced Athan and kissed both his cheeks.
Hope stood fixated with the exuberant welcome.
“It is nice to see you, too, Dion.” Athan laughed as he pulled away, and Hope could see the humor in his eyes. He winked at Hope. “I see you’ve met Hope.”
“Yes, the lovely Hope.” He leaned toward Athan, and whispered, “I do not know this, but I believe she thinks me trelos.”
Athan laughed again. “You are crazy, Dion. It’s why everyone likes you.”
“Likes me?” Dion shook his head. “No. Oloi agape mou!”
Athan smirked. “I’ll take Dion to his room. He’s completely intoxicated.”
He lifted Dion’s bag and tried to lead the young man toward the stairs, but the Greek demigod protested, “No. I feel quite, how you say, dandy. Malista, aye. I feel dandy. We stay up and talk, no? Much to catch up on. And there is a beautiful girl a flertaro.”
“Come, my friend. There is tomorrow. You’re going to be sick all too soon.”
Their voices faded.
Hope’s thoughts had been derailed, and she stood smiling in the entryway. Athan had winked at her. Maybe he didn’t hate her after all.
The next morning, the sun was out. Hope’s mood brightened with the weather. The thought made her wonder at Endy’s cloudy disposition, and then she laughed out loud at the appropriateness of his being in Seattle. She wondered briefly which came first and then forgot all about him as she got ready to go downstairs for breakfast. Eager with anticipation, Hope tripped over herself as she sped through her morning routine.
As she entered the kitchen, she noticed Athan was the only one there. Her enthusiasm waned slightly from her nervousness as she contemplated how to address him.
“Good morning, Athan.” Even to herself it sounded formal, and she cringed.
“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you talking to me now?”
“I. . . I was talking to you last night.”
He crossed his arms. “No, I spoke to you. If I remember correctly, you said nothing. You’ve said nothing to me for days. Nothing since we got back from Pike Place. Nothing, until now.”
“I’m sorry?” Hope was struck with disbelief. He’d noticed how long it had been since they spoke? He’d been counting the days? “I guess I was hoping . . .” She took a deep breath. “I-was-hoping-we-could-have-a-talk-and-kinda-sort-things-out.” It all came out as one word, and she took another breath. “Please.”
His gaze burned her, and she lowered her head.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” She couldn’t believe it. He’d actually said yes, and he didn’t seem mad. She wanted to jump up and down and scream. She wanted to giggle. She wanted to cry with relief. He didn’t hate her?
He nodded. “Let’s have lunch tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Disappointment punched her. What about right now?
“I have plans with Dion today.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Sorry.”
“Oh.” Hope’s enthusiasm deflated a little and then perked up. He’d still said yes. “What are you doing?”
Athan’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Dion came across Endy last night, and there was some wagering. Endy lost, and we have a beautiful day.” He pointed out the window. “Dion and I are going golfing.”
The sun was because of Endy? Wait.
“Golfing? You golf?” She’d never met anyone who golfed.
He laughed. “Yes, I golf. Actually, I play most sports.”
Of course he did. And he was probably good at all of them, too. Demigod son of Hermes. Stupid god of athletics.
“Golf is Dion’s favorite.”
“Did you lose a bet to him too?”
She held her hand out. “None of my business. Sorry.”
“Nice. Sometimes you surprise me too.” He rinsed his plate. “Now, I have to get everything ready for the demigod of wine, who will probably sleep another hour or two.” He started for the doorway out into the foyer but turned back at the last second. “Yes, I lost a bet, and if I could give you some advice, don’t gamble with Dion.” He winked and offered a parting wave. “Have a good day, Hope.”
Happiness pulsed through the air, and she skipped across the kitchen floor.
DAHLIA FOUGHT AS INTENSELY as Xan, but her style was much more aggressive. She didn’t wait for Hope to attack and then counter. Rather, as soon as the fight started, Dahlia went all out punching and kicking. However, like Xan, she also broke their sparring to give pointers and tips.
“Their eyes aren’t going to hit or kick you, Hope, so there is no reason to focus there.”
They stood on the blue sparring pads in their gear. Dahlia had a wicked round kick and had clocked Hope in the head three times in a row.
“But you can assess their emotions in their eyes,” Hope countered.
Dahlia frowned. “Yes, but that will only tell you their intention to fight. And you should be able to read that before the first punch is thrown. And if your attacker is Skia, you won’t read anything in their eyes.” She pointed at her chest and abdomen. “Look at my body.” She shifted to kick, and her torso moved too. “Read their body.” She drew back a punch, and again her torso shifted slightly. “Then count the timing. Remember, the best attack—”
“Begins with a good block.”
“Good,” Dahlia complimented her. “Now, let’s see what you can do.”
Unlike Xan, Dahlia didn’t hold back at all. The fighting was intense, and she’d often interrupt the sparring by shoving Hope out of striking distance.
“Don’t expend so much energy countering your opponent’s move. If you can use their momentum to your advantage, then do it.” Dahlia showed Hope some grappling techniques that used an opponent’s force against them.
“There will always be someone bigger, faster, and stronger than you. That means you have to fight smarter. Use your advantages and see what you can do to minimize theirs. If everything else is equal, technique will win. Shades of Hades, even if all else isn’t equal, the best technique should win. You need to make sure you have it.”
