Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Stefanos calls me. On a video call, no less. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t video. Or a call. Or to see Stefanos again. Either a real or a digital version.
Quickly, I run a hand through my hair, force myself to act a lot more chill than I am, then freeze as the phone continues to ring.
With a shake of my head to get it together, I answer the phone as nonchalantly as I can muster.
The death grip on my phone remains. I flop on my sofa in an effort to look like I don’t have a care in the world.
“Hey,” I offer breezily. “Figured I’d hit the blacklist and was cut off.”
Stefanos snorts. “Do you want to be on the blacklist?”
“Mm, probably not,” I drawl, giving him an appreciative look because there’s a lot to appreciate, and I’m not going to miss the opportunity now that it’s been given to me.
His expression eases. A hint of a smile curls his lips, an offering, and something lightens in me that I haven’t ruined things for good. “I’m sorry for not getting back to you earlier. My dad was here. He’s gone as of tonight. For now.”
“Would this call be fraternizing with the enemy?” I ask curiously. “If he knows you’re talking to me?”
“Well, I don’t think he’d put it like that. And he doesn’t know. Which is how I like it.”
“How would you put it if he asked? About who you were calling?” Unable to keep my curiosity in check, I have to ask.
I study the angles of Stefanos’ face, the tumble of his wavy hair, the appealing curve of his jaw.
The way his expression shifts as he takes stock of me, contemplative.
I love how seriously he’s taking my question, as if it has real weight.
As if my question means something important to him.
“I’m calling… a friend.”
“A friend? Am I your friend?” I ask, catching my breath.
I lift my eyebrows. We’re in this strange space, not lovers, not dating.
But definitely more than acquaintances. Someone who I definitely want to be a lover.
And yet, somehow, Stefanos feels like more than a lover.
Maybe it’s because of the permanent bond two men have when they sink a yacht together.
Or maybe Stefanos is the positive influence I need in my life.
And if that’s as his friend, I’ll gladly take it.
Anything more feels like an impossible dream.
But then, I can’t stop thinking about the way we kissed in his entryway.
The sensation of his mouth on mine. His desire. My lips burn at the memory.
Stefanos chews one of the strings of his hoodie. He sits on the sofa I remember from his Kerkyra flat. There’s a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you’re not quite an enemy.”
“Not quite an enemy?” I protest indignantly, gesturing with my free hand. Yet it’s hard to suppress my smile. “Ouch, man.”
“On probation, possibly.” Stefanos considers me seriously. Though there’s a lightness in his gaze, even so.
My lips twitch. The movements of his face are fascinating. “Well, fine. You’ll be delighted to know that since last week, I have sunk approximately zero yachts belonging to friends or enemies.”
“How many yachts have you raised from the sea floor?” Stefanos counters immediately, the corners of his mouth hinting at the promise of a smile, which I would love to see.
That’s when my face warms. The inevitable squirm follows. “Well, also zero. If you must know. How about you?”
“Same. No new sinkings, no sunken yachts raised either,” Stefanos confirms and gives me a level look. All of a sudden, he’s impossible to read. He brushes away a lock of hair that has fallen over his forehead.
“Well…” I swallow hard. “How many friends are you up this week?”
Stefanos’ gaze doesn’t waver. “One. You?”
“Same. One.”
We’re quiet for a long moment. My heart careens around so loudly he must hear it.
“And how many environmental disasters?” I hold my breath and steel myself.
“Only one small disaster. And, for the record, there are plans in place to raise the yacht next week. They’re working out the logistics, my father says.”
“Dare I ask how much it costs to raise a yacht?”
“You probably don’t want know.” Stefanos winces, shaking his head.
“Do you think it can be salvaged?” I ask.
“I don’t know that. Probably not? There’s a breach in the hull, confirmed by divers. They were there taking environmental precautions before the recovery next week. To avoid any spills.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry…”
“Theo, we’ve been over this. It’s not your fault, no matter what you told the coast guard. And don’t think I don’t know you did that.”
I shrug, giving him a level look. “Well, I feel rotten about it. Can I pay for something, at least?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, the recovery efforts?”
Stefanos grimaces. “I don’t think you can afford it. With all due respect. I don’t think creative consultants earn enough for yacht recovery or other yacht-related episodes.”
“You’d be surprised.” I hold his gaze, unwavering.
He slowly draws in a breath. And the way he looks at me is everything right now. “There’s insurance cover.”
“Please. Let me help.”
Stefanos falls quiet, watching me. Then, I can’t read him, which kills me, and once more, my chest is tight as I try to get a breath in.
“If insurance doesn’t cover everything, we can talk then.” Stefanos gives me a meaningful look. “About costs.”
“I definitely don’t want you to end up out of pocket because of this. Look, you were trying to show me around Greece, doing an excellent job of hosting on no notice, and then I distracted you right into a reef.”
Stefanos doesn’t say anything for another long moment. “Do you know what I’m sorry about?”
“Aside from the yacht situation?” I ask, my gaze rapt on his.
“Aside from the yacht situation.” His voice is soft.
“Tell me. I’m invested.” A hint of a smile plays on my lips before I can shut that down.
“That you had to leave so quickly.” Stefanos draws in a deep breath. “I… I liked having you here,” he admits, glancing away briefly.
I’m riveted by him. Because how could I not be? Goose bumps cover my arms. “Well, for the record, I liked being there in Greece. With you. Specifically.”
“And… I’m sorry I asked you to leave so abruptly. That was unforgivably rude.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was understandable, given everything.”
Stefanos draws in a deep breath as he reels. “I panicked a little. You don’t know what my father is like.”
“I don’t. But you know what I’m sorry about? Aside from the obvious?”
He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on mine once more.
“That I didn’t get a chance to kiss you before the whole sinking thing happened. And for longer before I left for the airport. And honestly? I’d love to kiss you again.”
His mouth opens slightly. No sound comes out. Then, a beautiful shade of pink spreads across his cheeks and nose. I sit in the silence, taking in the glorious sight of him.
“Oh,” Stefanos says finally. “I see.”
A laugh escapes me. He looks so flustered right now. It’s totally charming. “I hope you’re not horrified by the idea.”
“No. No. It’s… give me a minute.”
I nod, and we sit together in the evening silence. I take him in, watching the shift of expressions across his face.
“And I know I’d probably be the worst person on the planet right now for you to kiss,” I say into the stillness between us. “But you’re incredible and gorgeous, and I think you should really know that. In case you don’t.”
A smile at last crosses his lips before it fades just as quickly.
“Did I say the wrong thing?” I frown, worried.
“No, you didn’t. It’s just… it’s just… you’re a very nice distraction from everything. But… we’re still caught in an international incident.”
“The optics,” I admit, “are terrible.”
“And… there’s something you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve never kissed a man before you.”
That stops me in my tracks. I blink at Stefanos. Twice. And it’s a long time before I can figure out what to say in response to his revelation, which doesn’t sound totally inane.
“Never?” I ask at last, stunned.
Stef shakes his head, giving me a wry smile. “Never.”
“Wow. I’ll need a drink after that. I’ve been making out with guys since I was thirteen.”
Stefanos laughs with delight. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Hey, what does that mean?” I protest loudly, pretending to be offended, but I can’t stop my grin.
“It’s obvious why people would want to kiss you, Theo. You’re, well, hot.”
“And I’d say it’s obvious why people would want to kiss you,” I counter. “Because same.”
Stefanos laughs again. “I don’t know. Sure, people might want to kiss me because I’m a prince. And I’ve kissed plenty of women. But me actually kissing a man is a whole other story.”
“I’m so invested in knowing more about you.
” I can’t keep back my frank admiration of him.
The more I’m finding out, the more I want to know.
And hindsight always being perfect means I probably should have stayed in Greece to learn more about him.
It’s been a while since I’ve been so intrigued by someone.
And longer still since someone seems to be just as intrigued by me.
Though maybe that latter part is wishful thinking.
“Theo,” Stefanos says carefully, “we really are in a mess. I’m in a mess. I… I can’t see things going anywhere. No matter what I might want. Even being friends is dangerous.”
“Friends can be seen together,” I murmur.
“For the record.” But I can’t keep the grimace from my face, and I sigh.
Then, I remember my own messes, as Stef’s rightly pointed out, and my impending royal future as King, which he didn’t need to mention.
And everything feels impossible right then.
Logically, I know he’s right, but fuck logic.
“Plus…” he says quietly. “You seem to have a string of boyfriends. Even this week, I saw you on socials, out with men that look a lot like dates. I know that’s getting ahead of things here, but… your circumstances are very different than mine.”
“They’re fake,” I blurt, my face hot. “All of them.”
“I don’t know, the guys looked real enough,” Stefanos points out with a half smile.
“Oh, they were real men. Real enough. But the dates aren’t.”
“And Aidan?”
I groan, sagging back into the cushions on the sofa. “He’s a real liability. Forget him.”
“So, you see, even if we had kissed for longer—or again—kissing doesn’t change our realities. Or mean anything. Right?” Stefanos holds my gaze. “It would just make things harder.”
In return, I hold my breath till I get dizzy. I can’t blame him for questioning my behavior. Or motives.
“Well… it’s complicated, Stef.” My voice is low, caught in my throat. “At least the fake men are. That’s not real. But wanting to kiss you again is real. Very real.”
Stefanos opens his mouth to say something. Then he shuts it. And he swallows hard. “I think… I should go now.”
“Okay,” I say softly and stare at my phone for a long time after Stefanos hangs up, wondering where, if we can, go from here. Because there’s logic. But then, there’s wanting him, undeniably visceral, deep in my core.