Page 109 of Better Than Gelato
“Okay, so what about college?” Jake asks.
“What about college?” A giant puffy cloud has moved over the sun, giving us some relief from the heat.
“Did you find someone to date and fall in love with in college?”
“I wasn’t trying to find someone to fall in love with. I was trying to pass my classes while working five shifts a week. There were certainly better options in college than my small high school. But I never actually...wait, how many people have you fallen in love with?”
There is silence, and I wish I could take the question back. Because suddenly, I’m sure it’s more than the one person I’ve ever fallen in love with. I feel like an idiot.
Of course Jake’s fallen in love before. Probably a heap of times. Why did I assume I was his first just because he’s mine?
Jake still hasn’t answered.Ohmygosh is he counting?! This is excruciating.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I say. “It was a stupid question.”
“I don’t think it’s a stupid question,” Jake says. “But I don’t think a lot of good will come from pulling at that thread. All those girls are in my past. You’re my present. And hopefully my future.”
It’s a sweet thing to say.Butallthose girls? How many are we talking here?This time, I keep the question to myself. Instead, I tell him about my most embarrassing moment involving junior prom and self-tanning lotion.
The whole hike takes us less than three hours, and then we’re in Oia, the iconic Greek town. There’s a staircase carved into the side of the cliff and after descending approximately seven million steps, we get to the beach.
It’s not crowded, and I’m so hot I don’t feel embarrassed as I strip off my shorts and tank top and dive into the cool water in my bra and undies. It feels glorious. I don’t come up for a long time. Long enough for my body to go through the shock of the cold and then acclimate. When I do break the surface, Jake is just a few feet away.
“Doesn’t the water feel amazing?” I ask.
His hair is dripping, and his smile is big. “You know what else is amazing? That thing you did where you took all your clothes off and jumped into the sea in your underwear.”
“What else was I supposed to do?” I say. “It’s a million degrees, and I don’t have my swimsuit. Besides, my bra and underwear cover just as much as my bikini.”
Jake tips his head from side to side. “Maybe. But it feels different.”
“Well, if I’m offending you with my indecency, feel free to look away.”
“Oh, if only I could.”
And then he’s kissing me, and it’s the kind of kiss that lets you know everything he’s thinking and feeling and wanting.
We stay at the beach for a long time, swimming, and when our muscles are worn out, laying in the shallowest part of the shore where the waves wash over our legs. We’re two of the last people on the beach, and I never want to leave.
Eventually, we put our clothes back on and tackle the giant staircase. My legs feel like Jell-O. The kind of Jell-O that complains when you make it walk up stairs.
Oia is famous for its sunsets, and it feels like the town was designed to appreciate them as much as possible. We choose one of a dozen restaurants with patio seating and stuff ourselves on a platter of the restaurant’s specialties.
I fall in love with spanakopita, a light and flaky pastry stuffed with spinach and cheese. I also eat several little balls of herb rice wrapped in grape leaves. They’re called dolmades, and they’re my new favs.
We’re just finishing our last bites when the sky show begins. The white clouds melt into a vibrant orangey pink that seems to grow until the whole sky looks like it’s about to catch fire. It feels like everyone in the restaurant is holding their breath as we watch the red blazing orb finally drop below the horizon.
We stay on the terrace until the pink has melted away and the sky is indigo. Then we take a taxi back to our hostel and spend the rest of the evening playing cards with a group of travelers from Australia.
Just when I’m feeling ready to climb into bed, Jake says, “Well, guys, I think we’re going to call it a night.”
He gets up from the table and offers me his hand. And I know it’s not a big deal, and I know I was just thinking about going to bed.But why does he get to decide when we call it a night? What if I wanted to stay up and keep playing cards?
I take his hand and get up from the table, but feeling suddenly stubborn I tell him, “I’m actually not ready for bed. I’m going to head down to the beach.”
“See you later,” I say to the Aussies and head to the door.
“It’s pretty late,” Jake says, following me.
