Page 139 of His Secret Gift

“Ladies, this is Cosmo,” she says to her right, and he waves. “And this is his friend, Platon.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say.

“Where are you two headed so late?”

Callie blows raspberries with her mouth. “Any bar. I’m horny.”

“Boulevard of Broken Dreams is just this way, and they’re open for a few more hours,” either Cosmo or Platon, I forgot which one was which, offers.

“Thank you!” With that, Callie is once again pulling me by the arm. “Come on!”

“I physically can’t walk any faster.”

She grunts.

When we get there, it’s bumping.

“What do you want?” she yells above all the noise. “I don’t care. Whatever you’re getting.”

I didn’t plan on drinking a majority of it anyway.

“Here,” she eventually hands me something blue and fruity. “Now, have you assessed my options?”

“There are a bunch of guys over there in the corner.”

“Ooh. Good lookin’ out.” After that, I watch her approach them, which visibly excites them. “Who wants to dance, boys?”

They all offer, but she picks one guy with short hair, an earring, and a peach shirt open to his freaking navel.

A few people come up and ask me to dance. And although I’m flattered, I try to decline as politely as I can. I’m not in the mood for any of that, and I’d never betray Jack like that. I know we aren’t officially girlfriend and boyfriend or anything, but I told him I’d behave. So, I will.

“Having fun?” a sweaty Callie approaches me and asks.

“A ball,” I answer, sarcastically. “What about you?”

“Oh, yeah. Stefanos is great. And I’m pretty sure he’s DTF.”

I’m about to ask what that means, but then it hits me. Down to fuck. But then I ruminate on his name.Stefanos. “Don’t you think it’s funny that we have similar names throughout the world. Stefanos, Stefan, Stefano, etc.”

“I guess. Anyway, I’m going to head back.”

“You do that,” I say to myself when she disappears into the sea of bodies again.

“It’s a language thing,” a hear a low, gruff voice say behind me.

“Excuse me?” When I turn around, I see an older man sitting at the bar.

“What you were just talking about with names. They’re said differently in different parts of the world because of accents. For instance, can you imagine someone in your American accent saying, ‘Alexandros’ over and over again?”

I’m a little offended he just assumed I was American. But I get his point.

“No. That’s why you say Alex or Alexander.”

“I’m Yannis, by the way.”

No freaking way.“Yannis Drakos?”

He chuckles before looking down at his beer. “Depends on who is asking.”

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