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“I beg your pardon. Have you seen me?”
He laughed a little, and I took that as a small victory.
“Apollo, the Sun God, took one look at Cassandra and decided he had to have her. In an attempt to win her heart, he gave her the gift of prophecy.”
“What’s prophecy?”
“Cassandra could predict the future, which honestly seems like a pretty sweet deal for some under-the-toga action. My last date didn’t even buy me dinner before I gave him a blow.” I stroked my chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Or maybe that was the dinner…”
Milo smacked a hand to his forehead. “Dude…”
“TMI?”
“With you? Always.” He rolled back to face me and propped himself on one elbow. “But wait, who was your last date? There’s no dating allowed. Or did you talk them into breaking the rules for you? Again.”
“Dr. Picour needed no persuading, I assure you.”
Milo practically fell out of bed. “What? That is so bad! He’s a doctor. You’re a patient. And seventeen—”
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed. “Some side-action with a doctor—”
“A married doctor.”
“—is a mere footnote in my sordid history.” And my ticket out of this place. “Now, hush up and let me finish. Where was I?”
“Cassandra and Apollo.”
“Right. Cassandra knew what Apollo really wanted with his fancy gift and she wasn’t interested in being turned into a walking Magic Eight Ball.”
Milo laughed again, which made me feel good about myself. And that didn’t happen very often. Like Halley’s Comet—a rare bright streak across a cold black sky and then gone again.
“As with many entitled dude-bros,” I continued, “Apollo lost his shit when Cassandra rejected him and cursed her so that no one would believe her prophesies. So here’s poor Cassie, wandering around Ancient Greece, telling everyone Troy is going to burn and no one believes her. They all think she’s crazy and they even lock her up. See where I’m going with this?”
“You’re the reincarnation of a Greek goddess?”
“Let’s examine the evidence, shall we?” I ticked off my fingers. “I’m ridiculously hot. They all think I’m crazy. I’m locked up in here and no one believes what I say.” I smiled gently in the silvery dimness. “Including you, when I say you’re going to be okay when I’m gone.”
“You’re right,” Milo said, tears rushing back to choke his words. “I don’t believe you.”
Shit.
He turned his back to me again. The comet streak of good feeling faded to black. No one would ever accuse me of being the comforting type, and I was running out of ideas.
Milo cried softly, trembling as if he were cold, and a memory—my only good memory from Alaska—came back to me. It snuck up and wrapped its arms around me and I felt better instantly.
I climbed out of bed and sidled up next to Milo, squishing myself against him.
“Get off me,” he whined. “I’m not one of your boyfriends.”
“I’m not coming on to you,” I said. “When I was in Alaska, another guy did this for me. It helped. But I won’t if—”
Milo grabbed my arm and held on tight, his body shaking with silent sobs. I moved in closer, spooning him, and put my blond head on the pillow next to his dark one.
After a few moments, he sniffed and said softly, “Alaska. That’s where you were sent for conversion therapy? Before you came here?”
I stiffened. “Yes.”
“You hardly mention it. Not even in group. Unless they make you.”
