"Do you speak fluent Greek?" I ask him as we stroll along a street that appears to be made of gold. The sun is setting, casting a magical glow.
"Not really. I'm more fluent in French than Greek," he says, the sun highlighting his hair, giving it a reddish hue instead of its usual brown.
Dimitri looks almost angelic in his pure white suit, contrasting with his tanned skin and cherry-red lips. Just gazing at him sends shivers down my spine, so I look away before I become completely lost in him.
"Really? Say something in French for me," I smile, curious to hear how his British accent sounds in another language.
He hums, pondering what to say. "Tu es la femme la plus belle que j'ai jamais vue," he says, a small smile playing on his lips.
"What does that mean?"
"I can't tell you," he says, maintaining that same irresistibly attractive smile. I roll my eyes and playfully shove him with my hand. "Then how will I know if you said it correctly? For all I know, you could have completely butchered it."
"I suppose you'll have to trust me," he chuckles. "Now, it's your turn to say something in Italian."
"Why should I?" I smiled sarcastically at him.
"Why should you?" he laughs, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "I like the sound of your voice when you speak Greek."
Blushing from his comment, my cheeks turn red. "I like the sound of your voice when you speak French ," I reply with a shy smile, savoring the way he seems to be fixated on me as if I'm the only thing that matters to him in this moment.
"In that case, I suppose we should both speak Greek and French," he smiles at me, coming to a stop in the middle of the street. I join him, giving him a quizzical look. "What are you doing?"
He remains silent, gazing at me with the same intensity he had when we first met at the art exhibition. "Will you take me somewhere?" "Sure, where would you like to go?" I inquire. "Take me to your favorite place in Santorini."
My favorite place in Santorini? Many locations flood my mind when asked that question, but deep down, I know there's only one place that truly brings me a sense of serenity and connection with the world.
"Okay, let's go to my favorite place."
As I retrieve the keys from my purse, a chill spreads through my fingers, generating goosebumps that travel up to my shoulder. When I turn the doorknob, the door emits a faint creak, disturbing the prevailing silence in the room. Stepping into the open space, the powerful scent of flowers envelops me, and I switch on the lights.
At the top came hanging an inscription "Welcome to my favorite place in Santorini."
Dimitri scans the room with awe, his eyes filled with curiosity, as he takes in the various hues reflected in his vibrant green eyes. His hands adorned with rings gently caress the fragile petals of the flowers, and he bends down to inhale their fragrance. "Is this your cherished spot?" he inquires, his warm gaze concealed behind his emerald eyes.
.I nod my head and place my purse down on the counter, "It's the one place that makes me feel like I'm back home," his eyes are on me as I walk around the room, letting my fingers lightly travel over the soft petals, "My grandmother is the one who started my love of flowers. She's the one who inspired me to start my own business. It feels as if I'm closer to her when I'm around flowers in some way."
"Why didn't you stay with her and open a flower shop at home then?"
"She passed away when I was sixteen, " I say sadly, my eyes starting to tear up, "She's the one who told me to follow my dreams and live in Greece."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Dimitri says softly.
"It's okay now," I smile while forcing myself to not let the tears fall, "If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here, living my dream."
Dimitri nods his head, picking up a sweet pea and bringing it up to his nose, "I've always loved the way these smell."
With a smile, I appreciate his captivating presence amidst the floral surroundings, his gentle features blending harmoniously with the delicate blooms. "Have you ever painted flowers?" I inquire, curious. He returns the smile, setting the sweet pea aside. As he takes hold of a pink bluebell and twirls it between his fingers, he replies, "Occasionally. I enjoy painting them alongside models." Placing the pink bluebell behind my ear, his fingertips brushing against my skin elicit a shiver down my spine.
My heart races as I think about what the pink bluebells flower stands for, especially the pink ones. I doubt he knows what the meaning of the flower is though. How could he? He's not an expert in flowers. "That's nice," I say, my voice cracking slightly. I clear my throat, feeling my cheeks flush red with embarrassment, "Maybe you could bring one of your models here one day and paint them. If you want to that is."
"Maybe I will," he says before walking past me. I close my eyes as his shoulder brushes mine, the smell of him overwhelming me, "This is a lovely shop by the way. I can see how it's your favorite place." I hum softly, watching him as he observes the variety of flowers, "Your turn."
"My turn for what?" He asks, turning to look at me with a slightly confused look flashing through his eyes. "It's your turn to show me your favorite place in Greece."
"Ah," he smiles, "Let's go then. I think you'll like it."
Apparently where we were going was only four blocks away, so the walk there was rather short. The sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, only a third still visible while people were starting to leave their houses to join their friends for a fun night out.