Page 75 of God of War

My breath catches. That was not what I was expecting.

“Sure,” he continues, smiling, “it’d be weird, knowing you as the kid from up the street. But maybe we would have been friends. I could’ve helped you fix your bike when you had a flat.”

Some feeling settles in my chest. It’s weird — sad and happy at the same time, a deep longing for something I never had. I smile as his finger brushes my bottom lip and I let myself imagine it. What could have been. It’s unspoken, but I know Ares feels it too: in this fantasy, my father doesn’t exist.

“I bet Mama would have invited you over for dinner or something, since you were living all alone after your Gran left.”

Ares chuckles. “And I would’ve said no. Because I could tell you had a crush on me and it would’ve been weird.”

I laugh and smack his bicep. “Mama wouldn’t care about that,” I reply. “She’d laugh and think it was cute. Besides, you’d come for dinner eventually. You wouldn’t have been able to resist her pasta sauce. It’s the best.”

“So, what happened then?” Ares asks. “Over the years?”

The story floods to my mind far too easily. It scares me, but not enough to stop it. Ares hand leaves my chin, drifts down to my waist. His fingers make gentle patterns on the skin of my hip.

“When I’m sixteen and you’re twenty-four, I asked you to be my first kiss.”

He snorts. “That sounds problematic.”

“You said no.”

“Of course I did. I’m a gentleman.” He leans in and nips at my neck. I try to breath steadily, but it’s difficult because I can feel his hand. His thumb swoops beneath my waistband, not venturing any lower, just sliding back and forth.

“But… but you couldn’t stop thinking about me,” I say. Ares rolls my head to the side with his nose and lays kisses up and down my throat. “We lived our separate lives, but it was always there, at the back of your mind. Then this one night, when I was a little older, you saw a guy bringing me home from a date.”

Ares growls hot against my skin. “I don’t like this story anymore.”

I laugh. “It gets better. Because he was a little handsy, this no-name guy, and just as I was about to knock him the fuck out, you swooped in and threw him off me.”

“Did I kill him?”

“Oh, you tried. But I stopped you. And then… and then you held me while I cried and made me hot cocoa and we watched The Carol Burnett Show and you told me that guys are assholes and I don’t need them.”

Ares is quiet for a moment, his thumb stilling at my hip. I can feel him breathing shallowly.

“I remember,” he says, his voice rough, and I almost believe that he does.

“And then you kissed me.”

He grunts a laugh, his thumb going back to work. Back and forth. Back and forth. My skin tingles.

“Still sounds problematic.”

“Hey, this is my fantasy. Shut up.” He bites me then, right on the jugular, and my shriek turns into a laugh when he pulls back to look me in the eyes.

“It’s mine too, you know,” he says.

My heart swells and aches and longs for this fake past even harder. I take a breath.

“So then what happened next?” I ask. I put my hand on his bare chest, my fingers trembling a little, and start to trace the outline of his tattoos. Ares’ jaw clenches.

“We waited until the right time. Your mom, she’s smart, she knew something was going on.”

“But she liked you.”

“She liked me,” he repeats. “Knew I’d never hurt her little girl.”

I nod. Ares moves his hand lower, under my panties. My heart races.

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