Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

I’ve ever heard. I turn away from the waning sunset to look up at
Troy. “So the island was built for watching the sun set?”
He shrugs. “It’s just a fairy tale. A bedtime story men made up to
tell around the fire at night.”
From the far-off look in his eyes—which are not looking at me—I
can tell he’s still hurt.
“Until a few days ago,” I return, “I thought you were a fairy tale.”
“There’s a difference. Myths and fairy tales aren’t the same thing.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Still gazing at the water, he says, “A myth is a tradition, a legend
created to explain the unexplainable. The gods are unexplainable,
hence they are myth.”
“And fairy tales?”
I watch his face closely, looking for a reaction. Finally, after several
long seconds, he turns to look down at me. He meets my gaze
head on, concentrating like he’s trying to figure me out. Good luck
with that. Eventually his features relax and he smiles a little.
“A fairy tale,” he says, “is a story we wish were true.”
I smile in relief. Whatever Troy and I are destined to become, I
know we’re friends. And I’m glad my stupid deal with Stella hasn’t
come between that.
Which reminds me . . . “There’s something I need to tell you.”
His eyebrows lift.
I stand up so I can tell him eye-to-eye.
“It’s about me and the evil stepsister.”
“I’m listening,” he says.
It’s better he knows what’s going on so next time I make a fool of
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