Poseidon (Contemporary Mythos Book 5)

I’d begged Meg to come with me to the surf competition because I wouldn’t know what to do with myself alone on the beach watching a bunch of surfers. As predicted, she refused and told me to concentrate on Simon. If he’d have been the only contestant, that wouldn’t have been an issue, but I sat on a towel in the sand watching athlete after athlete catch the waves, and none of them were Simon. Stifling a yawn, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, letting the sun kiss my skin.

“Already bored, huh?” Simon’s voice spoke from nearby.

I popped my eyes open to find him standing over me with a snarky grin, his head partially blocking the light in the sky. “Full disclosure. I came here to watch one singular surfer.”

“Oh, yeah?” Simon plopped on the sand next to me, propping his forearms on his knees. “And who might that be?”

Several beach-goers pointed and stared at us, whispering to each other. If Simon noticed, he didn’t act like it.

“Some guy the media says is the biggest thing to hit the surfing circuit since the board leash.” I pushed my sunglasses to my head, taking in the sight of him up close and at my level.

Those eyes of his never failed to make me feel antsy and calm all at once.

“Wow. Sounds talented.” He winked at me before lightly nudging my elbow with his. “I appreciate you stopping by. If I’d known you were just showing up for me, I would’ve told you to come later.” He chuckled and turned his glance to the waves, impatiently tapping his fingers on his bronzed forearm.

“Oh? Do they always save the best for last?” I sat up straighter, causing my hip to brush his thigh.

Both of our gazes snapped to the brief contact before meeting each other’s eyes.

He canted his head to one side, taking me in. “They think it’s best for publicity. I don’t give a damn in what order I go, so long as I get to surf.”

“You really are an aqua baby, aren’t you?” I wanted to drag my fingers through his hair. Instead, I dug them into the sand.

He nodded as he leaned on the elbow closest to me, the hair on his arm brushing my skin. “If I could live in the water—” His gaze lowered to my lips before returning to my eyes. “I would.”

An obnoxious foghorn sounded from the other side of the beach.

Simon rolled his eyes. “That would be my sponsor. Their delightful way of letting me know there’s one surfer to go before me.” He leaped to his feet and dusted the sand from his butt.

“You’ll stick around afterward, right? There’s a great little salad bar just down the beach.” He pointed with his thumb. “And the margaritas are strong.” The lopsided grin that slid over his plump yet masculine lips made the insides of my thighs ache.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His expression fell, and he stared down at me, the left side of his mouth twitching. He took a step forward but retreated, giving one quick shake of his head. “At one point, I’m going to hold three fingers above my head. That signal? It’s for you.”

I traced a finger over my lips. “I’ll look for it.”

After flashing me another award-winning smile, he trotted off, waving his arm at his sponsor. Every woman he passed on his way turned their gazes on him, watching his hardened muscles tightening and flexing with each step. A knot twisted in my stomach. I barely knew the man, yet somehow, my body still figured out a way to be jealous. I yanked the camera from my bag with a grunt, setting the shutter for the appropriate lighting.

Tossing the strap over my neck, I hovered my gaze behind the viewfinder, zooming in and taking several images of the waves. Surfing photos weren’t always at the top of the list of shots my clients asked for, but a few of Simon Thalassa might be desirable.

Desire.

A lump the size of a conch shell formed in my throat, and I tightened my grip on the camera.

As the announcer’s voice introduced Simon, surrounding beach-goers perked up on their beach towels. I rose to my knees with the camera perched in my grasp, spotting Simon running across the shoreline, his board nestled under one arm. The water welcomed him with every lap of the waves crashing against his calves. He flopped on his belly atop the board, swimming to where the waves broke.

He fully stood on the board as the wave curled, expertly balancing and riding the water. His right hand cut through the wave, the pipe coiling around him like an embrace. I put the camera to work, taking shot after shot one after the other to catch any subtle piece of the action. His arms flowed through the water and as I zoomed closer, the shape of a dolphin appeared, but was gone just as quickly with a furious splash.

My shoulders tensed, but I didn’t drop the camera, keeping my gaze glued on Simon through the viewfinder. As he made a smooth transition from beneath the wave, he held an arm up, displaying three fingers and a wide smile.

Grinning, I took several shots of his secret message to me. Only me.

Three fingers. I blinked, my lashes fluttering against the camera—a trident.

A numbness coursed down my arms, and I sat back on my haunches. The camera would’ve fallen into the sand were it not for the strap keeping it hung around my neck. I rubbed the skin between my eyes, flashes of the sparkling trident beneath the water blazing through my brain as if trying to break through some mental barrier. Shaking my head, I forced my focus back through the viewfinder.

Simon surfed another four waves, not surprisingly scoring max points with the judges in every attempt. Gathering my towel and bag, I walked to the winner’s circle to witness him receiving the first-place trophy. He took it with both hands, holding it above his head, the golden gleam sparkling under the sunrays. After posing for the cameras for several minutes, he turned to a young boy holding a surfboard beaming up at him.

He handed the trophy to the boy and ruffled his hair. “Something to inspire you. Never stop surfing, alright?”

The boy turned to the crowd and smiled wide, his two front teeth missing. “Thank you so much, Mr. Thalassa. I won’t! I promise!”

Simon kept the same warm smile as he gave a final wave to the crowds. I crossed my arms, grinning. His gaze fell on me, somehow finding me within the mass of a hundred people shouting his name. A group of bikini-clad women armed with sharpies and ample cleavage called to him as he passed, begging for his autograph. Making his way through the sea of people surrounding me, he didn’t so much as glance at them, leaving behind frowning women in his wake. I dropped my arms at my sides, gulping.

When he reached me, he held his hand out for me to take. “Ready for that salad?”

I’d never been so excited for leafy greens.

Nodding without words, I slipped my hand into his, the calluses on his palms scraping against my skin, making my toes grip the soles of my flip-flops.

Simon led me through the crowds, each fan stepping aside as soon as we neared them. He was Moses, parting people like the sea. After a short jolt down the boardwalk, we arrived at a small restaurant with patio seating. The name “Vesta’s Greenery” hung over the entrance in jagged blue and green lettering.

“You pick a spot here and go order your salad at the counter. Do you have a favorite?” Simon pulled out a seat for me at a table facing the view of the ocean.

Smiling, I sat down, curling my hands in my lap. “Surprise me.”

A glint flashed in his eye, and he gave one firm nod. “You got it.”

Peeking over my shoulder, I caught a glance of his board shorts hugging the muscular ass hiding beneath. My cheeks burned, and I bit my lips as a smile crept over them. Seagulls flew overhead, some landing on lamp posts, others waddling the dock hoping for humans dropping food. Though there were ambient noises of children playing, people laughing, and varying forms of low-key music from each shop or restaurant—my ears tuned to the water crashing against the sand in the distance. I took a deep breath, soaking in the smell of salt hanging in the air.

“Here we are,” Simon’s smooth voice announced his return. He placed a wide bowl of colorful ingredients in front of me and handed me a fork.

I took the utensil with a sparkling grin and eyed the bits of orange sprouting between the green leaves. Poking one with my fork, I held it up. “Mango. A mango salad. How did you know mango was my favorite fruit?”

Simon tousled his short hair before sliding into his seat across from me. “I’m fairly good at reading people, and you seemed like a mango kind of gal.”

Saliva collected in the corner of my mouth as I eyed the rainbow salad in front of me—mangoes, romaine lettuce, cilantro, and hearty tomatoes. Gathering a variety on my fork, I slid the bite into my mouth and all but moaned.

“Did I pick well?”

I’d closed my eyes and lazily opened one. “Very well.”

“Good.” He smiled and cut his salad into more manageable pieces—cucumbers, tomatoes, olives, and sprinkled feta cheese.

“Greek?”

Simon had taken a bite and widened his eyes at me, shoving it against his cheek. “Me?”

Laughing, I tapped my fork against the plate. “Your salad.”

“Oh, right.” After a sheepish grin, he swallowed his food. “Yeah. It’s the best. Less rabbit food and more beef to it without being actual beef, you know?” His gaze dropped to the heaping amount of green on my plate. “No offense.”

“None taken. I love rabbit food.”

Like shy teenagers, we smiled at each other, making bubbles erupt in my stomach.

“I have to ask. What got you into gaming? Especially on the professional level?” Simon leaned his arms on the table, bringing our faces closer.

It wasn’t as short-winded of an answer as he’d probably thought.

“It’s kind of personal.” I shifted all the mango to one side of my plate in a pile, tomatoes on the other. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

He took a sip of water, waiting for me to look at him. “Only if you want to share.”

I want to tell you everything.

“I never knew who my parents were. I grew up in the foster care system and never ended up in a home with a normal family for more than months at a time. Not near long enough to feel like they were my family—even an adopted one.” I traced a swirly shape onto my plate with the dressing.

“Why only ever for a few months?”

My palms clammed up. “I—” He met my gaze, not speaking but urging me to continue. “I used to talk to animals.”

The sight of the shark from our cage dive staring at me before swimming away, the faintest tinge of thankfulness stirring from it, still swam in my thoughts. I couldn’t tell a soul about it—not even Meg. She couldn’t wrap her head around the shark allowing me to help it let alone say it communicated with me.

He tapped his finger on the table twice. “Don’t most children at some point?”

I kept my eyes traced on him, ready to gauge his reaction. “I used to think they talked back.”

And still do.

His nostrils flared, and he stared at me. He didn’t lean away, didn’t laugh, didn’t so much as twitch.

“You’re telling me no family would adopt you because you had a vivid imagination?” He frowned, forming deep creases leading from his nose to the corners of his mouth.

I shrugged, popping a mango chunk into my mouth with my fingers. “That was always my theory. Anyway, I ended up in a foster home with a dozen other kids. You can imagine how much attention we all got from the foster parents with that many kids under one roof.”

His finger thudded against the table again. “You started playing video games to escape.”

Heart. Squeezed.

“That’s right,” I whispered.

He cleared his throat as if choking on something and sipped on his water. “What uh—what games have you played?”

“You’re going to laugh.” I leaned back and crossed my arms.

He chuckled.

Widening my eyes, I held a hand out.

“Hey. That’s not fair. You set something up like that you’re asking for it.” He made a “come on” gesture. “Spill.”

I shoved a finger between my eyes and closed them. “I was obsessed with Ecco The Dolphin as a kid, and then it progressed into Aquaria, Subnautica, and most recently—Tides of Atlantis.”

He didn’t laugh. Not even a snicker.

I opened my eyes to find a radiant smile playing across his lips.

“Seems I’m not the only aqua baby, hm?” He traced his middle fingertip in a circle over the table cloth.

“I imagine my birth mother had a water birth with me.” I chewed my lip, getting lost in those eyes of his like a never-ending emerald meadow.

“Very plausible.”

His foot brushed mine under the table, making me gasp.

“Shit. Sorry. Long legs.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“They must be to reach these stubs.” I pointed down.

He rested his chin on his palm, still not letting his eyes roam away from me. “Nothing wrong with being petite.”

His words made my vision hazy, and I held my breath before harshly blowing it out. “I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to think I’m weird.”

“Well, you’re a gamer—a professional one at that—who’s obsessed with fish and picks up trash for fun. Not sure how much weirder I can think you.” A dopey smile pulled at his lips.

I dropped my jaw and grabbed a tomato from my plate, throwing it at him.

His hands flew up, blocking it with a glorious laugh roaring from his chest. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Ask away. Some may think I’m weird too.” He scratched his ribs.

“Do you—believe in past lives?”

He coughed into his fist.

Anxiety swirled my brain, and I flattened my hands on the table. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No.” He cleared his throat. “No. I’ve just never had anyone ask me that before and it threw me off guard because—” His fingertips skirted mine on the table. “Yes. I do.”

Breathing air suddenly didn’t seem enough, and my chest ached—not with pain but with…hope.

“Why do you ask, Cordelia?”

I slid my hand away from his, the proximity to his skin sending me through raging rapids. “I should go. This has been incredibly lovely. But the tournament is soon, and I still need to practice, and I promised Meg a vacation if I win and—”

And I was stammering.

“Sure, but tournament?” He stood, moving behind me to pull out my chair.

I stayed seated long enough to ensure the jelly my legs had turned into would hold me up if I decided to stand.

“A Tides of Atlantis eSports Tournament. I’ve been signed up for over a year.” Scooping my bag over one arm, I slipped my sunglasses on.

“Very nice. Can I walk you back to your car?”

“Sure,” I squeaked.

We were silent the few minutes it took to reach the parking lot. I fished for my keys, dropped them and immediately sank to my knees to retrieve them.

He met me on the asphalt, sliding a hand over my trembling one as I grabbed the keys. “Did I say something wrong, Cory?”

Quite the opposite.

“No, not at all. You’ve been nothing short of amazing, Simon.” I slowly rose, and his hand fell from mine.

“Then, what is it?”

Finally managing to meet his gaze, I clutched the keys, wincing at the metal impressions pushing into my skin. “I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what? Dating?” A tiny smile peeked at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t a mocking gesture but an endearing one.

“Dating. Socializing in general.”

“Hey.” He cupped my chin. “We have all the time in the world. That is—if you want to see me again.”

“Yes,” I blurted.

Way to sound desperate, Cor.

“Good.” He dipped his lips near mine and pressed a tender kiss to my cheek, pausing there for several seconds. “I’ll see you soon, Jewel of the Sea.”

He walked away, and I stood by my car, trailing my fingers over my cheek. The kiss lingered on my skin, rippling like a stone disturbing calm water.