“Let’s go,” he said, gesturing to his motorcycle, and this time I followed. Hopefully I wouldn’t be spending a lot of time with him. Theo was trouble for me. I could feel it in my bones.
Chapter Five
#5. A PIECE OF BRIGHT BLUE SEA GLASS, COURTESY OF THE AEGEAN SEA
Technically my dad had given this one to me, but I’d always considered it more of a loan than a gift. He told me it was the only piece of Santorini that would fit in his suitcase, and it moved from place to place with us. I loved the ocean back then, and every chance we got we’d bike the few miles to North Avenue Beach and comb the sand for treasures, but I never found anything nearly as pretty as the Aegean Sea glass.
Unless we were talking about Atlantis, my dad had almost never talked about Santorini. The most that I could ever get him to say was that it was very beautiful and sometimes he missed it. As far as the sea glass went, I guessed that when he went back, he didn’t need it anymore. There were probably beaches full of beautiful things.
I STARTED OFF WITH A respectable three inches between mine and Theo’s bodies, but that three inches lasted all of two seconds, because the moment I was semi-settled, Theo took off in a blaze of glory, and my main job was to keep myself attached to him.
The motorcycle was unbelievably noisy, all kinds of grinding gears and clicks and rattles, and the very real possibility that some type of Mediterranean rodent had been caught in the spokes. But even if it weren’t so loud, I doubt we would have spoken much. Theo was too busy trying to break a land speed record, and I was too busy trying to swallow Santorini whole.
After all the hours I’d spent looking at my dad’s map, a part of me had thought this place would feel familiar, but knowing about the island had done exactly nothing to prepare me for the reality. I’d already known that Santorini was shaped like a crescent, a big half-moon with a bay cradled in its curve, but I hadn’t realized that the island was small enough for me to actually see that moon with my own two eyes.
And then there were the cliffs. Red and jagged, filled with sprawling villages of whitewashed houses and churches, all glaring white with pops of pale yellow, baked pink, and the occasional cobalt-blue roof. Every so often, Theo slowed down enough to yell out the names of places we were passing through.
“Fira!” he screamed as we zipped through a small town with a clogged main street and a McDonald’s coexisting with traditional Greek architecture. “Old Harbor!” He pointed to a wide blue expanse of sea hosting cruise ships so far down below that they looked like Battleship pieces. Every residential area we passed through had something to love. Small winding streets of donkeys wearing colorful blankets with tinkling bells, and miniature churches with blue domed roofs sprouting crosses. I kept having this stupid jet-lagged thought: Santorini really does look like this. And then the other thought: Theo smells really good. Like a lemon tree. He may not have brushed his hair, but his cologne or aftershave or whatever it was, was so fresh and citrusy smelling that whenever he leaned back to yell out a location name to me, I unconsciously inhaled.
We had passed Fira, and were climbing a narrow, winding road when Theo’s opening line really sank in. How does it feel to be the daughter of the man who is about to rock the archaeological world with proof of Atlantis?
Had he really used the word “proof”? Because if there was one thing I knew about Atlantis hunters, it was that they didn’t throw that word around lightly. Now I was dying to ask Theo, and my heart raced as the motorcycle climbed higher and higher.
And right when I had decided that this was my new life, that I was going to buzz around on a clunky mini motorcycle taking in unthinkable beauty for the rest of my life, while attempting not to enjoy the smell of the driver’s cologne, Theo pulled sharply into a dirt parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dust and sending me smashing into him.
“Oof,” I said.
“Oia!” Theo announced. “We’re here.”
“Warning. A little warning would have been nice.”
Where is he? As I frantically scanned the parking lot, my heart began the traditional Greek dance known as Complete and Utter Meltdown. The ocean was to the right, and to my left was a makeshift bus stop, a fruit stand, and a dense maze of bright white buildings. Two boys stood talking in front of a car, and a woman sat in a folding chair on the porch of a souvenir shop.
He wasn’t here. Again.
“Your dad is meeting us somewhere else. At your surprise,” Theo said, acknowledging my unspoken question.
Right. I sighed, ignoring his outstretched hand as I stumbled off the motorcycle, my legs wobbly while I took in my surroundings. “Theo, what did you mean back at the airport?”
“Huh?” Theo was stashing our helmets under the seat of the motorcycle, and when he turned and smiled, my stomach performed a series of backflips that would concern me if I were not currently in a firmly committed relationship. Or at least hoped I was in a firmly committed relationship. Should I call Dax? My fingers itched for my phone, but I shoved the thought away. Dad first, then I’d deal with Dax.
I adjusted my backpack straps, feeling their reassuring weight on my shoulders. “Back at the airport, you said I’m the daughter of an Atlantis hunter who has proof.”
“I didn’t say that,” Theo said quickly, but his eyebrows flew up, completely giving him away. He’d be awful at poker.
“Yes, you did.”
His face broke out into a wide smile. “Fine, I did. But your dad wants to be the one to tell you about it.”
He had to be joking. “But I’m talking proof, proof. Actual proof.”
Theo walked up close to me, and my body temperature went up a couple degrees, exactly like it had on the motorcycle. To be safe, I stepped backward. “Scientific proof.”
“Is there another kind? But I’m not telling you any more. I don’t want to spoil it for your dad.”
My heart lurched. “Does the proof have something to do with the ‘mystery project’?” I was careful to insert air quotes.
Theo threw them right back at me. “The ‘mystery project’? Not entirely.” He flashed me a smile that could wipe out an entire city. Easy. But even if I hadn’t had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to dwell on that smile, because this guy was clearly as delusional as my father was. I wasn’t falling for it.
“Where’s my dad?” I asked.
“You ready to run?” Theo was holding his hand out for me to take, and I caught myself right before I put my hand out.
“Did you say run?”
“Yes, here. Let me take your backpack for you.” When he saw my expression, he grinned. “Your dad never lets me carry his either. Did you know you two have basically the same backpack? His is older, but still.”
We carry the same backpack? I gripped the handles tightly. I was a tiny bit obsessive about my backpack. My mom had found it for me at a consignment shop the year before she married James, and I’d been using it ever since. It was latte-colored, the leather worn to perfection, and its square shape was exactly the right size for my art supplies. Did my dad carry art supplies in his too?
I shoved that thought out of my head, turning back to Theo. “I’m not running.”