“
I thought I had power.
”
“
Right, okay, Liv. I
’
ll humor you.
”
“
Thank you.
”
“
Greece.
”
“
Greece?
”
“
Yeah. Mykonos, I think.
”
“
What
’
s in Mykonos?
”
“
Supposedly, it
’
s where Zeus fought the Titans.
”
“
Did they open a restaurant for that or something? Titan burgers? Apple Zeussel for dessert?
”
I giggle at my own jokes.
He laughs, too.
“
You
’
re cute. If you
’
ve ever seen the pictures of the island of white buildings surrounded by the most beautiful clear, blue sea, that
’
s Mykonos. And that vision alone could turn the worst meal into a heavenly feast. Even Titan burgers. Are those burgers made out of the dead Titans, I wonder?
”
“
Ew,
”
I answer, crinkling my nose.
“
Of course not. They
’
re just really big.
”
“
Right. And the place is run by Hestia?
”
“
I don
’
t know who that is.
”
“
Greek goddess of cooking?
”
“
There was no goddess of cooking,
”
I laugh.
“
There most certainly was. She was Zeus
’
s sister.
And
she was a virgin.
”
“
Really?
”
I ask him, my tone questioning his return to the topic we
’
d been trying to avoid for the past ten minutes. I certainly wasn
’
t questioning the goddess
’
s purity.
“
What? She was!
”
“
Aren
’
t all women virgins up to some point?
”
“
Well,
”
he considers.
“
I guess so. Hmmm. That fact seems irrelevant now.
”
“
Yeah. So hamburgers in Greece then. This might be a hard sell on my dad, but I
’
ll see what I can do.
”
“
I think hamburgers might be a hard sell to the Grecians, unless we
’
re just going to the local McDonald
’
s. Let
’
s call it a souvlaki sandwich and maybe the gods won
’
t roll over in their graves or whatever.
”
“
They have McDonald
’
s in Greece?
”
“
They sure do.
”
“
Italy?
”
“
Most definitely.
”
“
Morocco.
”
“
Yep.
”
“
South Africa.
”
“
Of course.
”
“
What are you, a McDonald
’
s expert?
”
“
Definitely not,
”
he says.
“
But I
’
ve had enough Happy Meals to learn the hard way that happiness doesn
’
t come from meals in paper boxes.
”
“
Seriously, though. How do you know so much?
”
“
I read everything I can get my hands on,
”
he tells me.
“
Happy Meal containers included. They used to have pretty interesting facts on them, when I was younger.
”
“
Wow.
”
I am thoroughly impressed, and by his smile, it
’
s obvious that he can tell.
“
Well, I guess that dinner in Mykonos is probably going to be a reality, huh?
”
“
I really hope so. You know, maybe we can wait until after I
graduate
from Columbia. That might give your dad a chance to get used to the idea.
”
The thought that Jon still sees himself with me after his college graduation makes me utterly giddy.
“
Maybe just until I graduate from high school.
”
“
I like that idea, too.
”
“
Cool.
”
“
I
’
m n
ot sure your dad will,
”
he adds,
“
but it
’
s a goal we can work toward.
”
I nod, unable to hold back my smile.
“
Cool.
”
After dinner, and after an
hour-long
conversation over dessert, Jon takes me back to my house on a city bus. It smells funny and there are a lot of people staring at
my date and me
, easily the best dressed people on the bus, but he seems completely comfortable and puts me at ease with little effort. What was shaping up to be a pretty disastrous date turned into one of the most eye-opening nights of my life.
I stepped outside of the little bubble my dad had created for me to live in.
I experienced mass transportation.
I ate the most amazing meal with a guy who felt lucky that I went out with him in the first place.
I wore a dress that didn
’
t just make me feel beautiful, it made other people forget their manners.
I have
power
.
I was seeing one of the most worldly, most intelligent people I
’
d ever met. I knew he could teach me a lot. I wanted to learn things from him. I wanted to learn
everything
from him.
We step off of the bus one street east of mine, noticing we have about ten minutes before my curfew. He takes my hand in his and we start our traditional slow stroll home.
“
I had a great time, Livvy.
”
“
Me, too.
”
“
And I just want you to know, I
’
m kind of glad we had that conversation tonight. I
’
m not particularly proud of it, but I think it
’
s important for you to know about me. So you can make an informed decision, you know. When that time comes.
If
that time comes,
”
he corrects himself.
“
Okay.
”
I
’
d pushed that part of the night to the back of my mind. Learning that Jon had already experienced things with another girl wasn
’
t the highlight of my night, to say the least. I realize it was naïve of me to think he
’
d be a virgin, too, though. After all, according to the rumors at school, very few of the guys were, and especially not the attractive ones.
“
I
’
d want to know if you weren
’
t. Just to know, you know?
”
“
Sure,
”
I tell him with a faint smile.
“
You are, though, right?
”
“
Yes,
”
I assure him with a blush.
“
But so what if I wasn
’
t? You
’
re not.
”
“
It
’
s not like that,
”
he tells me.
“
I
’
d just want to know who my competition was, that
’
s all.
”
“
Oh. Well, who
’
s mine?
”
“
Just trust me, Livvy. There is none.
”
He stops walking and holds me back, pulling my shoulder so we
’
re face to face on the corner down the street from the house.
“
Trust you, huh?
”
I ask him. He takes my hair in his hand and brings it toward him, dropping the curls so they dangle precariously over my heart. A part of me feels the need to shield myself, to be cautious of him.
He nods and tips my head slightly to the side so he can kiss me. It
’
s soft and sweet and ends with a smile across my lips. He leans further down and presses his lips to the side of my neck. I gasp at the contact, feeling it in every cell of my body. Just when I think it
’
s safe to take a breath, he moves further still, and kisses the silver medallion he had given me that hangs in the middle of my chest. Overcome, I put my hands beneath his chin and pull him back up to me. It
’
s a need, to return his affections.
When we part this time, we
’
re both breathing heavily.
“
Choisie
,
”
he whispers as he looks me in the eyes. He moves my hair aside, placing two fingers over my heart, then tapping out its quick rhythm. We stare at one another, and I know I
’
m completely in love.
“
I have to go,
”
I tell him, knowing I
’
m probably late. He checks his watch and agrees, taking my hand once more and walking me to the patio steps.
“
Good night, Livvy. Thank you.
”
“
Thank you,
”
I gush, wanting him to kiss me again but having no doubt that the only thing separating
my dad and me
at this moment is a heavy wooden door, and maybe my mother
’
s quick persuasion to give me a moment.
“
Good night.
”
It
’
s an ambush once I get inside.
“
Livvy, it
’
s three minutes past curfew.
”
“
Dad, really? We were down the street. That
’
s practically home.
”
“
So it
’
s okay if I wait outside for you after your dates, too, so I can make sure you
’
re on our
street
on time?
”
“
No,
”
I say quickly.
“
You
’
re right, Dad. I
’
m sorry. It won
’
t happen again, okay? We
’
ll synchronize our watches next time.
”
I roll my eyes with my back to him.
“
Liv,
”
he says to me, clearly losing patience.
“
Why were you down the street? Why didn
’
t the cab drop you off at home?
”
I turn around to answer him.
“
We took a bus.
”
He bites his lip as his arms tense up. He stretches his fingers and takes a deep breath.
“
Livvy, if money is an issue, please tell him that I will pay for a cab home–or, hell, I
’
ll even pick you up–every time. I don
’
t want you taking the bus again.
”
“
Dad, it wasn
’
t bad at all.
”
“
Livvy, I really don
’
t ask much of you.
”