Page 26 of Electric Touch

I don’t put on make-up or do anything special, as we’re just going to be in Apollo’s office. I wear baggy cargo pants and an old Brown University sweatshirt. My hair is in a loose fishtail braid down one side of my head. Making sure I have my purse, I head out.

Apollo’s office is in Morningside Heights, near to Columbia University. I jump the subway to Cathedral Parkway, wishing I’d grabbed an apple or granola bar. Anything to settle my rumbling stomach. Especially given it is going to be at least twenty minutes before I eat.

Apollo buzzes me in when I get to his building. He has a small two-person office on the third floor. His assistant is mostly virtual, but sometimes, she comes into the office for meetings. He rarely invites me around when she’s here, as there isn’t enough space. Real estate prices in New York are killer, even when you’re making the money Apollo is.

When I arrive outside the office, I smell Moussaka and moan in anticipation. It’s been a while since I’ve had the traditional Greek dish. Mama never was the best of cooks, but Yaya Effy made us this regularly and I miss it. Nothing is as good as hers.

There are frosted windows and doors to Apollo’s office. I come here all the time, so I open the door and let myself in.

“It smells so good in here. I’m so hungry I’m drooling-”

I stop and stare. Apollo is at his desk as usual, but the spare desk is also occupied. All the air suddenly gets sucked out of the room and I freeze.

Oh My God, what the hell did I just say?

What the hell am I wearing?

I can’t take my panicked eyes off Nash Jameson, sitting at a desk in my best friend’s office. With a guitar in his hands.

Chapter Nine

Her expression is comical. I don’t agree with Apollo’s subterfuge. Not to mention we were cagey around each other. He said it was the only way to get her here, so I relented. He knows her better, after all.

When I spoke to him on the phone, he was less of a dick. I had to convince myself the favour was for her, not him. Despite myself, I’m intrigued. And, honestly, I like her. She’s different from anyone I’ve met before. I’ve thought about her a lot, too.

So I figure what harm can it do? I love playing and she wants to learn. I found out her full name is Adrestia. It’s a beautiful and unusual name, just like her. She is Greek, like Apollo, which seems obvious now, apart from those captivating green eyes.

I give her an amused smile as she stands stock still, staring at me. She moves when the strap of her purse slips and hits the floor with a thud. As she bends to pick it up, she makes some flustered sounds. Apollo has a bemused expression on his face.

Adrestia straightens, and I check her out as surreptitiously as I can. The Brown University sweatshirt is well-worn, and her cargo pants are baggy around her thighs. I’m not bothered by that but I am disappointed. I’m aware of the banging body she has hidden beneath those clothes. And I can’t see it.

Clearing my throat, I draw her attention. “Apollo said you needed a guitar teacher.”

Her lips make a small O as she glances from me to him. Shit, I can’t help imagining that mouth someplace else.

“Well, I need to get to my meeting. Help yourselves to the food. It’s second only to my Yaya’s moussaka, so enjoy. Tia, close your mouth. You’re drooling. Over the food.” He adds with a snicker.

Her mouth snaps shut, and she glares daggers at her friend. He grabs a satchel, then hurries out of the door. We hear him laughing until he gets into the elevator. Adrestia smooths her hair before turning back to me.

“Guitar lessons?” She says.

“Yep. I brought you one to practice on.” I set mine down and get up to grab the other case beside Apollo’s desk.

“What did he tell you about why I need guitar lessons?”

“He said you’re performing at your college charity event.”

Her brows lift. “Oh yeah, that.”

Frowning, I indicate for her to take a seat. I’ll leave that alone for now. Whatever they don’t want to tell me, I can worry about another time. She flushes as she sits, and her eyes move to the dishes on the desk next to me.

“If you’re hungry, we can eat first. It smells delicious. I’ve never had a moussaka. Greek right?” Maybe encouraging her to give me a fact about Greek food might snap her out of the shock.

“Do you like eggplant, meat, and cheese?” she asks. “You’re good to go if you do.”

She dishes up two plates, and we sit and eat. She makes a moaning sound at her first bite. I glance at her, my fork poised between the plate and my mouth. Her eyes are closed, and she has a dreamy smile on her face. Like this is the best thing she has ever put in her mouth. I blink a few times and try not to let my imagination run away with me.

Her eyes pop open and she sees me looking. “Nice?” I ask with a wink.

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