“Present-moment living,” I said, thinking about my yoga class at school. It did make a sad kind of sense. “So… once I leave Santorini…”
“You’re dead to me,” Theo said glibly. “That’s that. We will never speak again.”
I laughed, but I felt an odd twinge in my chest. “Good to know.”
He shrugged. “I like to be honest. And Demy, she knew the score too. It was fun while it lasted, but once I moved, trying to stay together would have ruined all of the good memories. It was time for her to experience university. I’m sure she is dating and enjoying herself, and that’s the way it should be.”
He sounded so mature. My stomach turned, thinking about Dax leaving for college. Would he want to start dating other people, enjoying the college life? And what about when I told him that I didn’t plan to follow him there? “Meaning she was okay with it?”
“Um…” He blinked his eyes sheepishly.
“Oh right. You’re still friends, just the kind that don’t talk to each other,” I said, repeating what he’d said the night before. I looked at him for a moment longer. It was strangely satisfying to see him avoiding my eye for once. “Theo, come on. Did you actually like her? Because my BS meter is running pretty high right now.”
His lips parted in a smile. “Kalamata, I’m not lying. I’m telling you the truth. I liked her very much. She was funny and smart. But what’s the point? Best case, we would spend a few months pining away for each other—”
“Pining away?” I said incredulously. “What is this, the 1950s?”
He ignored me. “—talking on the phone late into the night, then the expensive trips back and forth, and then the calls and visits would eventually become less and less frequent, and then the jealousy, and the fights…” He gave a lusty sigh. “You see? Disaster.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “It sounds like you have firsthand experience with this.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny. But it’s a good rule, Kalamata. Enjoy the moment, then carry the memories with you as a souvenir. It’s my life mantra. Can you try it for me?” He lay his head back against his seat again, his eyes finding mine. The bright orange sky reflected off his skin, making his eyes look even darker, and for a moment I wondered if he was hinting at something. Was he hoping I’d enjoy the moment here with him? Was this a fling suggestion?
Goose bumps moved down my arm.
“Theo…,” I started, but right then the sun hit its point of no return and the crowd behind us burst into applause as a gale of wind hit the island.
“You see? Like that.” Theo gestured to the now purple sky, his hair flying into his eyes. “Enjoy the moment. I’m going to go check on Bapou. See you soon?”
“Sure,” I managed. He jumped up and disappeared down the steps, leaving me disoriented and a bit off-balance. Theo obviously wanted to be friends, nothing more. Why did I keep thinking otherwise?
* * *
It was too stuffy to hang out in the bookstore, so once I’d shaken off all the confused feelings Theo had stirred up, I went for my sketchbook and oil pastels. The oil pastels were even better than I’d imagined—vibrant and satisfyingly smooth, like butter at exactly the right temperature. For the next hour or so I sat sketching, enjoying the quiet and watching as the cliffside lit up, light by light in the darkness. I was working on a shadowy outline of Ammoudi Bay when Theo appeared.
“Let’s go see the blue domes.”
I kept my eyes focused on my sketch pad. “You mean the ones on the cliff? I saw them from the water this morning.” According to the postcards and artwork displayed along Oia’s main street, the small white church with cobalt-blue domes was like the village’s mascot. That image was everywhere.
“But have you seen them up close? Or at night?”
I shook my head. “Would seeing them involve walking? Because I think I’m done with that today.”
He placed his hand over my sketch pad, careful not to actually touch my work. “Kalamata, people come from all over the world to see Oia’s blue domes, and you’re going to see them at night. I’ll carry you if I have to. Also, I’m confiscating your phone so you don’t check it all night. Come on.”
* * *
Santorini at night had a completely different personality: cool and moody with an unruffled quiet that made me feel like I should tiptoe. The only sounds were the ocean and occasional voices and clanking silverware drifting over from the top of rooftop restaurants.
Nighttime made Oia extra confusing, too. If you didn’t pay close attention, it was easy to get lost in all the twisting, narrow alleyways. Most buildings were the same height, and besides Main Street there didn’t seem to be much planning involved in how the town was laid out. The constant white made the whole thing worse, but Theo marched confidently forward, sure about where we were going.
We walked down the main corridor before Theo turned right at a ritzy-looking jewelry shop and onto a slender pathway, and soon we were winding our way through the mishmash of buildings arranged on the cliffs. The houses built directly into the cliffs were more like small caves with miniature shuttered windows and doors that most adults would have to duck under. The path serpentining through them was confusing, full of jagged turns and mismatched steps and dead ends.
“This place is a maze,” I said, keeping my eyes on the varying steps as I followed after him.
“By design,” Theo said, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Pirates used to be a big threat, so people on the island painted their houses white so that from a distance their town would blend in with the landscape and the pirates hopefully wouldn’t notice a new place to loot. And then if the pirates did show up, only the locals would know their way around the alleys, which made it easy to confuse the pirates and buy them some time to escape.”
Distracted by his history lesson, I slipped on a particularly uneven step, but caught my balance once Theo’s hand gripped mine. We didn’t say anything and he didn’t let go; he didn’t even look at me. Instead he clasped my hand tighter, continuing down the path. I let him, because the slippery path had turned lethal, and because my heart felt rough and ragged and holding someone’s hand made me feel a little bit better.
Theo kept explaining. “Then, when pirates weren’t such a big deal anymore, and the Ottoman Turks had invaded, the white and blue became an act of rebellion. The Turks wouldn’t let them fly their flags, so they painted their houses the color of their flag.”
“Rebels,” I said, glancing up at the hillside. Oia had a sleepy beauty to it, but its history gave it a lot more energy. That made sense. My dad had always been the ultimate rebel—he didn’t care what anyone thought—maybe part of that had come from his hometown.
Theo’s hand was warm and sure in mine, and I kept waiting for him to let go. He didn’t, and I didn’t pull away either. Regardless of the way it was making my cheeks heat up, it felt steadying—emotionally and physically.
I kept getting glimpses of the blue domes as Theo led me expertly through the maze, finally coming to a stop in front of a silken rope draped with a sign that read PRIVATE. Beyond it the domes stood full and commanding, lit up by spotlights in the darkness, the cobalt blue popping against all the white. Theo was right. They were gorgeous.