Rewriting History

“Really,” I say, kissing his lips.

“I’d love that.”

I laugh and hug him one more time before forcing myself to step away. I could stay here all night with him and it would be the perfect way to celebrate my finishing school.

It hits me that I’m no longer a high school student. I’m eighteen, in love, and I feel like my life is just beginning. I’ve never been happier than I am at this very moment. After all the obstacles, things are finally going right for us. I’ve found what some people go their whole lives not experiencing, and for that I’m grateful.

No matter what happens from here, this moment will be burned into my memory forever.

Epilogue

The hot air is forming tiny beads of sweat on my forehead, but it’s the stifling humidity that makes me want to return to the air-conditioned confines of my hotel. Even in a tank top and short khaki pants, sweat is dripping down my back to cool my body. The lace-up boots on my feet aren’t helping.

Walking within a group, I’ve tuned out the ramblings of the tour guide as I study the archaeological remains of ancient Greece in front of me.

I’m absolutely blown away by not only the architecture but the sheer size of the Acropolis of Athens. The sun barrels off the chunks of limestone, creating a glare off the structure. My mind is working out how I can sneak away from the group to run my hands along the subtle curves of the workmanship.

“Come on, hon… we came all the way here and you’re not even listening.”

I look behind at Eli, who’s wrapping his hands around my waist. He’s smiling sweetly at me and I know he doesn’t care whether I’m listening or not. We both know I could recite Ancient Greek History in my sleep.

Turning toward him, I hug him. “Thank you so much for this trip. I’m so lucky.”

We started planning this trip months ago for the summer break of my second year of college.

“Oh I think I’m the lucky one.” He kisses my nose. “I’m going to be even luckier tonight,” he winks. He told me he’s planned something for tonight but he won’t tell me what. My mind runs wild with some pretty kinky thoughts.

“C’mon…what are we doing tonight?” I beg.

He ignores me and I’m pulled along to catch up with the tour group. As fascinating as it is, the guide is rambling on about history they talk about in elementary school. No wonder I’m not listening.

Nudging Eli to the point of being annoying, he swats me on the ass and whispers in my ear, “It’s a surprise, but keep that up and I’ll lock you away in the hotel room all night.”

I smirk at him. “That wouldn’t be such a bad thing now, would it?”

“Trust me baby, you want to go where I’ve planned tonight.” He walks off to catch up with the group before I can interrogate him.

Walking through the front door of the hotel, we are blessed with air-conditioning in the extravagant foyer.

“Mr. and Mrs. Anderson,” gushes the bellhop, a big smile on his face. “I trust you had a wonderful day.” He winks at me and I laugh at his odd greeting.

Although technically we’re

not married, I’m impressed the staff remembers the surnames of all the guests—well, Eli’s at least.

“Thanks, but it’s Mr. Anderson and Ms. Wilson,” he says pointedly. The bellhop flushes and mumbles an apology before hurrying off. Eli rolls his eyes at me and I nudge him.

The suite is a welcome sight. Little chocolates have been placed at the end of the tightly tucked bed, the fridge has been restocked with fruit and alcohol, but the best thing to me is the towels that have been replaced and modeled into the shape of a heart. This is the most perfect getaway for me: history and romance.

Standing, I walk over to the glass window that stretches the entire length of the suite. I’m so fortunate to be blessed with this trip. With the sudden passing of Eli’s father, the family received a seven-figure settlement from the insurance company.

Eli continued teaching Senior History; however, he changed to a private school a year ago after they offered a package he couldn’t refuse. So to say he’s doing okay financially would be an understatement.

Sitting outside the restaurant, the deck on the top of the hill is lined with lounges overlooking the ruins. Dancing shadows of hundreds of candles scattered sparsely are creating a suspenseful ambience. The humidity tonight has me wearing a light floral dress with slits up the sides. Eli’s hand is resting on my naked thigh as the citrus flavor of Savatiano white wine slides down my throat. I could move to Greece just for the legal drinking age of eighteen, though it’s only a few more months until my twenty-first.

“Come closer.” Eli nods toward his open arm on the back of the couch.

I scoot closer to him, taking in his signature scent and his warm body. He’s wearing the white button-up shirt I bought him for his birthday with a pair of khaki shorts and his open-toed brown leather sandals.