She leans against the counter, resting her cheek against her fist. At the same time, something explodes, and some poor NPC screams on the screen. ‘I’m about to finish my shift.’
‘That’s great, but this will be quick.’
She leans up, laboriously slow. ‘Well?’
I pull at the collar of my T-shirt. ‘It’s about the ex, seeing as you seem so invested.’ She says nothing. ‘Well, I thought maybe I might get him back.’
She plays with her necklace, a cross dangling from it. ‘You plan to take him away from his fiancé?’
‘When you say it like that…’
‘Homewrecker.’
My mouth drops. Surely, she’s not allowed to say this to me? ‘What did you just call me?’
‘Home. Wrecker. I don’t condone it.’
‘Well, I don’t either, it’s just?—’
Her hand rises. For one horrible moment I think she might slap me. ‘I don’t want excuses. Your ex is marrying someone else and instead of coming here to celebrate that, you have come here to ruin his life.’ She feigns spitting on the floor. At least I hope it’s fake.
‘I wanted to ask your opinion, find out if I’m doing the right thing.’ I could run this by Alice, but Alice is too involved. A stranger’s perspective was my get-out clause. My knees buckle and I steady myself on the counter.
She’s right. This flimsy idea I had to come here and try and stop Ollie marrying someone else is ridiculous. It’s evil. It’s selfish and twisted. ‘I’ve been doubting it myself. I don’t think I should do it.’
She places her hands on the table, leaning towards me. ‘If you can’t accept your ex’s new partner, I’d say you shouldn’t even be here. But who am I to judge? I don’t concern myself with the particulars.’
I want to tell her that she’s judging me now. I want to tell her that her moral philosophy is no good to me. But I don’t, because I’d die.
‘Thanks, Lydia. You’ve been… helpful.’
She presses a button, the game ends, and then she logs out. ‘Thank God this shift is over.’
I walk out into the haze of the dwindling day in a daze, chewing the corner of my lip. I’m not this sort of guy. I’ve never been this sort of guy. I’ve become some horribly selfish person and I don’t like it.
‘How’s your hotel?’ Sam, fully clothed, wearing a tight black T-shirt with the Power Rangers logo on the front, asks me. I’m overwhelmed by memories as I observe the electric bolt that bursts against his chest, as if he wields it himself. His hands tucked in the pockets of black jean shorts, the setting sun casting his skin in a sweet glow, he grins, always grinning.
Infectious.
‘Oh, yes, love it.’ I wouldn’t let him know about Tim and Jemima. ‘Very plush. Luxury. I got an upgrade.’
‘You did?’ Sam claps his hands together. ‘Sounds perfect.’
‘It is.’
Breathing the Athens air calms my nerves.Samcalms my nerves.
‘Power Rangers?’ We stroll down a cobbled street where the smell of garlic and spices makes my stomach rumble. There’s a market street in the distance, looking lively. Restaurants are starting to come alive with evening diners.
‘Go, go!’ Sam punches the air.
‘Do you remember we used to play that game every time we could?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Are you serious?’ I ask. ‘You were always Tommy.’
‘Tommy?’
