Stavros

Excerpt From: Stavros

“I just want to be normal.”

Apollon, lying beside Theo, shifted on his borrowed hotel towel spread over the warm sand and laughed. “Normal? Are you crazy? How can you be normal?”

Theo sighed. Yeah. What was normal, after all? Was lying on a golden beach in late October, hiding from your family, hoping to meet the man of your dreams even remotely normal?

Apollon raised himself on one elbow. “You’re a gay man in a Greeker than Greek family and—”

Theo turned and looked at him, a warning tone to his voice “Keep it down, will you?”

“Keep it down? I’m wondering how you can even fantasise about normal. I mean, you’re like Cinderfella. Only the wicked stepmother is about the bitchiest thing this side of the Atlantic and…oh, look, here she comes with your charming stepsisters now.”

Theo bolted up, lowering his sunglasses and glanced fearfully along Elia Beach. He had to be the most fidgety guy on the island. He was definitely the most stressed out person on the gayest, happiest beach in Mykonos.

“Not funny,” he muttered when he saw nothing but gorgeous, half naked bodies from one stretch of white sand to the next. Out on the horizon, small yachts and tiny fishing boats completed the picture of Mediterranean serenity. The truth was he was kinda pissed at his cousin. He’d just worked up the courage to think about taking off his swimsuit and tanning completely nude and then Apollon had to try out his stand-up routine for kicks.

Theo stared at his arms and legs. He’d worked so hard to gain more muscle in the gym and even invested in a few tanning sessions, but he still looked chalk-white. Damn it.

“What is it now?” Apollon asked, sounding exasperated. “Don’t tell me you’re looking for another imaginary mosquito bite.”

Theo tried to ease the frown from his face. He knew it was there because it showed up in every goddamned family photograph, and he didn’t want to end up looking like Papou, his grandfather. Not when he had just turned twenty-five. He still had plenty of time to look like a typical Scully male. All work and no play in the eyes.

“It wasn’t an imaginary bite.” He glared up and down the beach again, like some deranged lifeguard looking for land sharks. He’d made certain they’d stuck to the far, very gay end of Elia. One portion of it was nude and he’d never seen so many fabulous bodies. He rolled his tongue back into his mouth and sipped his sour cherry soda. He was so in love with the stuff, he was beginning to worry about what he’d do without access to it once he left the islands and went back home to Los Angeles.

Apollon rolled over, giving his naked ass a turn under the great celestial oven roaster. They had argued over which beach they’d go to—Elia, or the new gay hot spot, Super Paradise Beach.

Most of Elia was gay, but Theo couldn’t take the chance of one of his countless new Greek relatives catching a glimpse of him. Because Super Paradise was suddenly so trendy they would undoubtedly go there, gawking at scantily-clad sun worshippers. Every single one of them was looking for a hot guy. It cheered him up, knowing he had a better chance of getting laid than his new stepsisters did.