Page 50 of You Can't Fight Lightning
“No. I’m not god. I’m a god. One of them. There are a fair amount of us.”
“Oh? And which one are you?”
His shoulders moved up in the vicinity of his ears. I couldn’t see his face, because it was dark, but I could feel his anxiety, his stress, his sadness.
I could feel it.
Why? I didn’t want to see this guy again. Why could I feel what he was feeling? I didn’t want to have anything to do with him, much less feel his shit.
What in the hell?
“I’m Zeus.”
I burst out laughing, although there was no humor in the sound. It was just so bananas, and I wanted to hurt him. To have him feeling something like I was feeling. “Right. How convenient. You know that I love Greek mythology, so Bam! You’re a god, and you just happen to be Zeus! You need to get help, Z.”
“You’re probably right about that.” He didn’t sound offended.
Although why did I care if he was offended?
I didn’t.
Not even a little bit.
“But I’m not lying to you. I’m Zeus. Z Olimbos? Is there anyone else I could be?” His hands spread wide.
“Zeus is a player. A guy who steps all over women, doesn’t care what happens to them as long as he gets what he wants.” I made my voice as hard as it could be.
As if he was a god.
Please.
I mean, looks aside, please.
“I’m trying to reform. For you, Roxy. I don’t want to trick you, or play you, or force you. I read a great quote lately—‘Force is not the path to true love’. I think that’s right. I want you to choose me because of me, not because I’m Zeus, or anyone else. And that means no tricks.”
“What, you’re not tricking me now?”
I could see his head shaking from the light in the parking lot. “No. I’m telling you the truth, even though it puts me at risk.”
Thunder rumbled closer than I thought it should be. “What about disease, Zeus?” I emphasized the name. “If there’s a godly version of a sexually transmitted disease, you have to have it.”
“I have never been sick in my life.”
What, now he was offended? I called him a player in the worst way possible, and he’s all up in arms over the thought of a STD?
“I don’t need to be saved by you.” I tried to keep the wobble out of my voice. I know it’s there, even if he doesn’t.
“I’m not trying to save you.” He stops. “Well, okay. Maybe. That’s kind of a fallback for me. I try to make everything better—”
“Before you go.”
He heaved a great sigh. “I hate admitting it, when you’re talking to me with that tone in your voice, but yes. Before I leave.”
“You’re damn right there’s a tone.” He was leaving. Damn it. I knew it. Knew it, knew it, knew it.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I take a step closer to him, my hands on my hips. “And who told you about me? About my private business?”
