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He sees me and those dimples pop.Eros… no, stop it with the myths.
He takes his hat off, his hair all mussed underneath.Oh god please stop making it worse.
14
ALEXEI
Stef comes out of the back, carrying a plate of food, closely followed by a man in chef’s whites. Though I imagine this is his dad, he doesn’t really look like him. It’s only when he gets closer, I see the resemblance in the nose and around the eyes.
The chef gives me a big, warm smile and shakes my hand.
“I’m Tolis,” he says. “Stefanos’ father, welcome.”
“Alexei,” I say. “Thanks for helping out with the donations, I really appreciate it.”
He waves his hand like it’s nothing. “Happy to help. A friend of Stef’s is a friend of ours.”
That makes me smile. A ball of warmth in the pit of my stomach.
Stef looks shy and I want to reassure him, tell him his dad is nice, not embarrassing like he probably thinks.
“Sit, eat, what can I get you?”
“I hear the keftedes are pretty good here.”
The older man’s eyes light up, like I surprised him.
“You heard right, I’ll bring you a plate.”
I feel like I’m at someone’s house, not a restaurant. Like a family just welcomed me into their home. Maybe that’s why the place is so packed? The waitress laughing with the customers and calling them by name. The old guy in the corner, reading a newspaper and drinking an espresso. It’s a place in a busy city where people can go to feel at home. Something human amidst all the construction work and cars. And yet it’s distinctly New York too. The different languages being spoken on nearby tables. English, Greek, Arabic, Turkish, I think. I look around like a kid in a candy store at all the decorations on the walls. Black and white photographs of Greece. What looks like families posing for portraits. Musicians with instruments I don’t recognize. Little ornaments on the walls, like saints I recognize from my own apartment growing up, a cross, one of those blue eye-like things I’ve seen somewhere before.
Stef’s eating when I look up, not paying much attention to me, and I worry suddenly that I’m intruding on his family time. “I hope it’s okay I took you up on the offer.”
He looks up, those eyes again,fuck.
“Course, I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you to come.”
That blush is fucking adorable. My stomach flips and I try to switch my brain off. I came here to hang out with my roommate and eat some keftedes, whatever the fuck that is. Can’t be worse than meat jelly at least. And to pick up some donations for the refugee center. I didn’t come here for any other reason.
There’s music playing in the background, the kind of thing you’d hear in a romantic movie about a bored housewife who moves to a Greek island and falls in love with a sexy carpenter. Stef tucks a strand of hair behind his ear before scooping up some meatballs onto his fork.
“Is that keftedes?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, it’s just meatballs.”
“I trust you. And a little hint, if you ever go to an Eastern European place, don’t order the holodets.”
“Why not?”
“Just trust me.”
He smiles, dropping his big brown eyes shyly to his plate. “Okay.”
Fuck.
His dad brings out a huge plate of what Stef’s eating, with an extra plate of salad glistening with olive oil and cubes of feta, and potatoes. He watches as I take the first bite.
The keftedes are delicious. Juicy inside, with a bit of a crisp exterior. A pork taste, with onion and herbs. It’s like an orgasm in the mouth. I can’t say that though obviously. I just hum and nod around the food and he gets it.