Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
It’s all so uncharted. But it’s also cool.
And natural too, like I’m just lying in bed chatting on the phone or FaceTiming a friend. Gone are the nerves and excitement of sex for the first time, the worry whether I’m doing it right. Now it’s just us connecting, and I like it. I like it a lot.
“Was I an archer in a past life?” I repeat as I run my finger across the artwork Echo made. “Maybe I was. Maybe I was the god of archery.”
He seems amused. “Were you Apollo once upon a time?”
I preen a bit. “If I were to be any god in a past life, it would totally be Apollo.”
He chuckles. “Somebody thinks highly of himself.”
“Dude, it’s not because he’s hot. It’s because he was clearly one of the gay gods.”
Declan tilts his head. “Have you studied the gay gods?”
“I was a history major in college. So, I took Greek and Roman history, and that got me interested in taking a mythology class too.”
Declan pushes up, resting on his elbow on his side. “Tell me more about all the queer gods, then.”
This, I can do. I know how to talk about history. Plus, Declan has such a casual way about him, especially when he asks questions the same way he does when we work out in the morning. “Apollo had lots of relationships,” I say, shifting to my side too. “With lots of men and lots of women.”
“So, he was the original fuck boy?"
I crack up. “I’m sure that’s his nickname on Mount Olympus. Anyway, he was quite generous with the gift of his body. But one of his most important lovers was a nature god, who was also a Spartan prince named Hyacinth.”
His expression is dubious. “So, the fuck boy’s favorite lover was named after a flower?”
Shaking my head, I laugh. “Actually, I believe the flower was named after him. Legend says a dark blue hyacinth sprouted from Hyacinth’s blood when he was killed.”
“Did Apollo kill his lover, or was it one of those crazy god-gets-jealous-and-accidentally-offs-someone things?”
I tap my nose. “Good guess. One of the stories of Hyacinth’s death is that Zephyrus, the Greek god of the west wind, was jealous of Hyacinth’s relationship with Apollo. So, when Apollo was teaching Hyacinth how to throw a discus, the god of the wind blew it off course and killed Apollo’s lover.”
Declan mimes an explosion. “Wait. Wait a hot second. Not only was Apollo gay, he was part of a three-dude love triangle?”
“Homosexuality has been alive and well for centuries. And in spite of the debauchery, the infidelity, and the raging jealousy, the Greeks were pretty good flag bearers for LGBTQ back in the day.”
“Things you learn,” he says, a little delighted. “I suppose we owe them a debt of gratitude.” He presses his palms together prayerfully and gazes heavenward. “Thank you, Apollo.”
“Gods and poets, right?”
“Yeah, there were definitely a lot of poets who traveled on this side too.” His eyes go thoughtful for a few seconds, like he’s lost in time. “I think there’s a hyacinth in a T.S. Eliot poem. The Waste Land. ‘You gave me hyacinths first a year ago . . .’”
I quirk a brow. “From Guns N’ Roses to T.S. Eliot? You’re quoting poetry now, shortstop?”
Declan rolls his eyes. “I took a couple poetry classes in college. Helped me a lot with some stuff. I’m not just a jock. But I know the body might make you think that.” He gestures to his firm, fit frame. Then he points to my arrow again, seeming determined, almost like he doesn’t want to linger on the topic of poetry. “All right, Apollo. What’s the story?”
“I got the arrow about a month ago. Right before spring training. It’s all about forward momentum. Focus. Goals. Funny thing, though—I planned to get this long ago.”
“You had a tattoo picked out when you were a kid?”
“Yep. My grandpa is covered in them. The dude has a full sleeve on his right arm,” I say, running my hand down my arm to demonstrate. “I always loved his tattoos, and I used to trace them when I was a kid.”
Holy hell, it is as easy to tell Declan these things as it is to talk to Reese. For a second, I wonder if I’m saying too much, but the eager spark in his dark brown eyes tells me to keep going. It’s like the coach waves me past first and I’m running hellbent toward second.
“I love ink that means something. So, for me, when I was five or six and I knew I wanted to be a baseball player, I told myself I was going to get a tat if I ever had a chance at making it to the Major Leagues.”
Declan smiles. “That is awesome dedication from a very young age.”