Halfway to You(24)

We spent the morning touring the windmills. At lunchtime, we sipped ouzo and ate gyros and told each other funny stories until Keith was wheezing with laughter and Todd and I had tears streaming down our faces. It turned out that we had similar senses of humor—we loved wit and irony and bad predicaments, but Keith could also drag us down into toilet humor and have us all snickering like teenagers.

It felt good to have company.

After lunch, we agreed to reconvene at two o’clock on a beach a little ways south—supposedly, it was the best beach on the island. Back in my room, I changed into a one-piece swimsuit I’d bought in France. It was red, with a flattering high-cut leg and a low V top. I slipped a gauzy white dress over it and traded my notebook for a shoulder bag that would fit a towel.

I arrived at the shore at two fifteen, having miscalculated how far it was from my hotel. The beach was full of naked sunbathers, and I unobtrusively scanned the faces for the two men I recognized. After about five minutes searching, I grew worried that the guys had stood me up—but then I saw them, far down the beach near a little rocky outcrop. They were clothed and snacking on olives and bread, and they grinned when I approached.

I spread my towel and plopped down beside them, reaching for an olive. “Did either of you know this was a nude beach?”

Todd shook his head, a slight pinkness coming to his tanned cheeks.

Keith’s grin widened. “No clue, but it’s ace.”

Todd elbowed him. “Many of these women are gay, Keith. You have no chance.”

“Someone has to be straight,” Keith said. “And I’m determined to find her.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you getting naked then?”

“What? No way,” Keith said.

Todd chuckled. “Come on, man. Remember when you were trying to convince me to come to Greece with you? What did you say?” He tipped his chin up, pretending to think. “Oh yeah, you said, ‘We need to try new things. We need to let loose.’”

Keith shook his head. “I meant you need to try new things and let loose.”

“Hypocrites,” I mumbled, and Keith threw an olive at me.

“I don’t see you getting naked.”

I wrinkled my nose. “None of us want that.”

They looked at me, eyes flicking to the thinness of my cover-up and the red swimsuit underneath. Neither of them responded, and I felt my face flush, both exhilarated and embarrassed.

Todd moved on. “Anyway, why don’t I open this wine?”

“You do that,” Keith said, standing. “I’m going to that restroom over there. Don’t wait up.”

When Keith was down the beach and out of earshot, Todd explained, “He just went through a breakup.”

I leaned back on my elbows, wondering what kind of woman would break up with Keith. The men I’d been with were all so selfish and reckless; I never felt safe or understood around them. I’d thought all men were like that—until today. Todd and Keith were different. They were somehow charming and thoughtful, playful and serious. I got the sense that if a sudden disaster occurred—like, if one of the volcanic islands suddenly erupted—those two men would be reaching for my hand, helping me run. All the men I’d known before would’ve simply saved themselves.

After fishing a corkscrew from their bag, Todd offered the wine bottle to me first. I took a swig, then handed it to him. He drank slowly, his hair falling back. When I awoke that morning, I’d had no idea I’d be drinking wine on a nude beach with Todd. But here I was . . . and he seemed genuinely glad. What had changed? Was it Keith’s presence? A good night’s sleep? Vacation high?

“You’re so tan,” I said, breaking our amiable silence. “How did that happen?”

“I tan quick,” he said. “Which reminds me, I should put on some sunscreen.”

He removed his shirt, and my hungry gaze darted over his form, from his collarbones to the vertical line that bisected his abdominals. I glanced away, heart pounding in my ears, and stared out at the ocean. The sun was beyond bright, bounding off the pale-blue sea in a glittering, dazzling, blinding explosion. I heard the lingering hum of volcanoes in my thoughts and tried not to think about seeking safety in Todd’s bare arms.

“Want some?” Todd held the sunscreen out toward me.

I’d never bothered with sunblock—I only ever wore tanning oil—but I’d heard the Greek summer sun was strong. I grasped the bottle without touching his fingers and laid it on my towel. Then I sat up and removed my dress. I pretended not to notice Todd watching me as I applied the sunscreen over my arms, shoulders, and modest cleavage; I pretended not to delight in his attention as I took my time with each leg, extending them out in front of me when I was finished. “Can you get my back?” I asked.

Todd looked around, perhaps to see if Keith had heard my request, but he was far down the beach now, talking to a topless woman, who was pointing and gesturing as if giving him directions.

“Sure,” Todd said.

I pivoted so my back was to him; he rose up on his knees and squirted the sunblock into his palm. It took forever for him to touch me; by the time he did, my pulse was fluttering like a frightened bird. I reveled in the way he brushed my hair off my neck and slid his fingers under the straps at my shoulders. He took his time rubbing it in.

(My apologies, Maggie, for the overt sexual tension.)