Greek Kiss

LOST IN ATLANTA

My knees knocked up against the dashboard for the twentieth time as Seba Thanos jabbed the breaks. My old Ford sedan skidded to a halt at the red light. Our bags slid off of the back seat and onto the floor.

"Is it left or right?" he barked at me.

"I don't know," I snapped. "I lost the signal." I raked back a lock of rust-colored hair away from my eyes, peering at my iPhone. I punched a finger at the screen, willing the GPS to start working again. "We have to be close."

Seba grunted. "Kotsiros."

That was Greek for either stupid or piece of crap, I couldn't remember and in our predicament, it wasn't important. We were late. We'd driven all night to Atlanta to catch the Red Sox playing the Braves and Seba was the last person I wanted to disappoint.

We waited for the light to change. His dark eyes swung from street signs to the light to the buildings surrounding us. His olive skin glistened with a very fine layer of sweat. The Georgia swelter was no match for the Ford's AC on full blast.

I'd known Seba for years. He was beautiful, dark and rugged. Every Greek inch of him.

His arms, chest, stomach, it was all thick, smooth muscle. His black hair was brushed down, curling above his eyebrows. His strong hands twisted at the steering wheel. The Red Sox baseball jersey he wore did nothing to mask his exotic frame. Even the dark blue jeans were tight at the thighs.

My insides quaked every time I peeked over at him.

I, on the other hand, was forty pounds overweight for my five-foot-seven-inch body. I used to be able to hide it well when I was younger, but now at twenty-two, diet gurus called me pear shaped. My mother called me healthy. I simply got used to the way I was.

"Cassandra," he said to me, gazing over at the phone. "Did you try restarting it?"

"I can try," I said. I forced a restart, but I was pretty sure that wasn't it. My phone had one bar for signal.

I wasn't used to using my phone outside of Charleston. I never did trips like this. I did little more to be social than chat online with friends.

One of them had been Seba.

He was totally out of my league. I knew it and I was pretty sure he knew it. We'd been online buddies for two years. I'd talked him through a couple of break ups over the phone. He talked to me about work and sports and Greece and never asked my boob size like other guys did. This was our first meeting, a trip together. He flew into Charleston, and we'd drive around to major cities, down to Florida and circle back to Charleston to crash for a few days before he flew back home to Miami.

The only thing he'd asked to see was a real major league baseball game. I considered it my turn to try to impress him by getting tickets at the last minute. I'd been crushing on him since I'd first started talking to him.

And I was messing up. Well, my phone was. His was already dead in his pocket and forgotten his charger. Mine didn't work for his phone.

We weren't off to a fantastic start. We'd passed street after street, and we ran into the football stadium twice, not the Braves' Turner Field.

"Cassie," he said, making a right. He zoomed down the road a block and pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant. He jerked the stick into park and turned to me. "Hop out and ask."

"I thought guys didn't ask for directions."

"I'm not asking," he said, flashing a smoldering grin at me. "You are."

I rolled my eyes, reluctant to leave the barely air conditioned car. My pink tank top was sticking to my body and my jeans were hanging low off of my hips, showing the crack of my butt. Clothes never fit right on my body. There wasn't a smooth way to get out of the car without flashing my butt, so I opted for a don't-care attitude. I shoved the door open and stepped out, holding my breath for what I thought would be an inevitable comment.

"Hurry, Angelos," Seba said, using the nickname he'd given me about a year ago. My understanding it was Greek for angel. He'd never said why he used that nickname for me but I liked it and didn't question him.

That was it? No fat joke? Well that was cool. I dropped the hem of my tank top over the waist of my jeans to hide my butt and marched off toward the restaurant. I'd shown him a number of pictures of myself online and he never did joke about my weight or talk about it at all. I shouldn't have been surprised.

My paranoia, I supposed, was from my other friends. They would often comment or pop a joke about my weight. I'd laugh to brush it off. I think they meant well by trying to break the ice for me about it but it still stung.

I was back in five minutes with directions and a plastic cup of water offered to me by the kind lady working the bar.

I leaned into the window. "Did you know the Braves got a new field?"

Seba raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"We're looking for SunTrust Park, not Turner. They opened a new field last month."

Seba sat back, pressing his palms against the wheel. "I've been watching Red Sox games, I hadn't heard about them opening the new field for Atlanta."

I smirked at him. He hadn't been watching many games at all, and I knew it. He'd had a hard break up two months ago, and he spent the majority of his not-working time talking to me on the Internet.

There was no way I was going to remind him of this now. I dropped into the passenger side, closing the door and offered the ice water cup to Seba.

Seba's eyes widened, and took the cup from my hands. Our fingers brushed, and sparks flew from my fingertips, following nerve paths to my heart.

Why did he have to be so hot?

I dropped my eyes to my lap before looking back at him. He was way too intense in person. My insides were wound up tight since he landed in Charleston and I'd picked him up from the airport.

"Thank you," he said. He sipped some of the ice water and then pushed it back to me. "Let's go."

Point back in my favor? Not that it mattered, but I liked pleasing him. Maybe he wasn't attracted to me, but I liked him.

Probably more than I should.

I pressed the cold condensation to my forehead and pointed to a crossroad. "That way."

A few turns later, we could see the top of SunTrust Park.

I pointed out the directions and within a few minutes, we were in stadium's parking lot. Seba climbed out the moment we were parked, stretching his arms over his head. I had a nice view of his butt in his jeans while I was still inside the car. It left me trembling and smoothing my palms over my clothes in an unconscious reflex.

I grabbed my purse as I heaved myself out of the car.

Seba was about to lock up when he caught sight of me strapping it to my shoulder. "Don't bring that," he said.

I blinked after him. "Why not?"

"You don't want to have to keep up with that all day." He jerked his head toward the car. "Hide it under the seat."

"But what if I want to buy a t-shirt or something?"

"You don't want it stolen, do you?"

He'd know about things getting stolen. He moonlighted as security for a number of places. He told me all the stories.

I scoffed, but relented, stashing my purse under the passenger seat and letting Seba lock up. However, a secret thrill ran along my spine. Would he really buy me a t-shirt? Oh god, if he did, what did it mean? He was concerned about my personal things, watching out for me. I willed my heart to simmer down. I told myself I wouldn't get head over heels over someone only to get disappointed later when he would eventually ask to remain friends. No, I'd done that too many times. My one and only rule: Don't be the first to fall.

And right now, he was making it extremely difficult.