“You’re a nut,” Sara said, taking a sip from her pink drink.
I ran a hand over my face, ridding it of water droplets. “Is my make-up completely ruined?”
“What make-up?”
I stuck my bottom lip out. “I’m going to go—freshen up.”
“You’re not going back to hide in the room, are you?” She blocked me with her arm.
With vigor, I shook my head. “Nope.” It was the truth, but I left out the small detail of where I really planned to go.
She narrowed her eyes before lowering her arm. “Alright. But don’t make me come looking for you.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said, wading to the stairs.
My wet bathing suit seeped through my clothes as I whisked off to the nearest gift shop. I plucked a pair of pink binoculars from a turn style. Halfway to the register, I stopped. Bright pink probably wasn’t the most inconspicuous color choice for spying. I traded them out for a black pair, grabbed a roll of Tums, and hurriedly paid. A fierce need to know if Hades was the Hades ate at me like a festering wound.
Now to find him. I sniffed the air for the smell of burning wood like I was a bloodhound. Nothing, but was worth a shot. After checking every bar on the property and turning up empty, I started to lose hope. Maybe he went back to his room? I passed the lobby area and did a double-take. There he was, plain as day, sitting at the bar inside. A quaint bar compared to all the others.
I ducked behind a nearby bush, raising the binoculars. After going cross-eyed several times, I managed to focus through both eyepieces. Wait. How was I supposed to hear anything this far away? There was another bush a few feet closer, and I scampered behind it, sputtering when several of the leaves slapped me in the face.
“What’ll it be?” The bartender asked.
“A Backdraft.”
The bartender nodded and returned with a shot glass full of brown liquid, sliding it in front of him.
Hades looked down and then back up at the tender. “Aren’t ya gonna light it on fire?”
“New liability regulations, I’m afraid. No open flames.” The bartender shrugged.
Hades sighed, scratching his beard. “Kind of defeats the purpose of this particular drink, doesn’t it?”
“Rules are rules, sir. Sorry.” The bartender held his hands up and walked away.
Hades stared at his drink before looking around. Besides the bartender who’d left and me behind a friggin’ bush, there was no one in sight. He snapped his fingers over the shot glass, igniting the contents into a raging flame. My jaw dropped, and I fumbled with the binoculars, struggling to get them back to my eyes. Did he have a lighter hidden in his hand? He blew the flame out and lifted the glass to his lips, knocking it back.
I lowered the binoculars, blinked, and shoved them back over my eyes so harshly it gave me a headache. There was definitely no lighter in his hand or anywhere to be seen. My heart thudded against my chest.
More. I needed more. This could not be happening. Maybe it wasn’t a dream?
He threw some Euros on the bar top and left. He went for the opposite door from my makeshift coverage. Thank God because half of my body stuck out from the bush.
He stopped at one of the twenty-four-hour food stands. There weren’t any nearby bushes, so I made do with a trash can.
“A gyro, please,” he ordered.
They handed one to him wrapped in parchment paper and foil.
“Do you have ketchup?” He asked.
Ketchup on a gyro? Gross.
“Sorry, sir, we’re out.”
He was hitting zero for two tonight. As if the guy needed any other excuse to be depressed.
“That’s fine. I’ll make do,” Hades said, clutching the gyro in his hand and heading further down the tiled walkway.
The smell of curdled tzatziki sauce made me gag. The trashcan was a horrible hiding spot, but to move now would be spying suicide. He shifted his eyes and twirled his free hand in a circle toward the ground. A small hole with a glowing orange hue opened in the grass beside the walkway, and a pale hand holding a bottle of ketchup emerged it. Hades grabbed it, popped the top off, squirted some ketchup on his gyro, and handed it back to the—hand. The hand didn’t disappear immediately, and he batted it a few times before it slipped away. The hole sealed up as if it were never there in the first place.
Oh. My. God.
I fell back. Hades really was Hades. How could I possibly look him in the face, let alone hold a conversation? I danced with a Greek god. Bile made its way up my throat, and I kept it back. No. No. I refused to believe it. He was dragging me straight into his metaphorical Underworld. That or this Greek vacation had gotten entirely too interactive.
I made my way back to the swim-up bar, munching on Tums, but couldn’t remember how I got there.
Sara waved her hand in front of my face. “You walked into the pool like a zombie. Are you okay?”
The image of the hand appearing inexplicably from the ground played on a constant loop in my head. “Oh, yeah. A little sleepy is all.”
“You slept for fourteen hours.”
I braided my hair and tossed it over my shoulder. “There is such a thing as too much sleep.”
Michelle and Rupert were gone.
“You missed a hell of a show. Rupert had six shots before Michelle asked him to stop. He didn’t take it too lightly, and they started arguing until it turned into all-out yelling.”
“What’s going on with those two?”
She crossed her legs. “I could guess, but I told you from the beginning, Rupert was a bad egg.”
“How are the two prettiest women in the resort today?” Guy asked, wiggling his way in between us, a can of beer in hand.
Sara snorted. “What do you want?”
“Do I need a reason to dote on beauty?” He grinned.
I held back an eye roll.
Guy snapped his fingers. “Oh, Steph, do I remember hearing you like Dirty Dancing?”
“The movie, yes. Why?”
“They put up a flyer in the lobby. Looks like some contest or something.”
I stood straighter. “What? Really?”
His brow rose over the top of his sunglasses. “Pretty sure I read it right, but you should go check it out.”
Water splashed as I clamored out of the pool, slipping on the stairs. I made a beeline for the lobby, not willing to stop for anything or anyone. The hanging pen on the bulletin board couldn’t get in my hand fast enough, and I dragged my finger across the typed-out details.
“Special Valentine’s Day Event: Dirty Dancing contest for the dance. You know the one. First prize: VIP access to a special event. Note: For couples only (it is Valentine’s Day after all),” I read aloud, my excitement deflating with the last part.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Hades said from behind me.
I turned around, re-positioning the pen in my hand like a knife, trying to hold it above my head, but the string halted my effort. “Do not appear out of thin air like that!”
“Actually, I walked around the corner. You were too preoccupied with readin’ out loud.” His eyes dropped to my bikini-clad form before dragging their way back to my face.
My cheeks warmed.
“By the way, sweetheart, when you want to spy on someone, it’s usually best to be further away. That’s the idea behind binoculars.”