Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

Troy frowns, confused, but Nicole understands.
“Aphrodite’s.” She does not hide the disgust in her voice, rolling
her eyes as she adds, “You’d think she was the patron goddess of
athletics instead of love, for all they throw her name around.”
“Athletics,” Troy explains, “fall under the patronage of Ares.”
Looking up, I follow the direction of his gaze to a table in the
center of the room. While I’m watching, the cheerleaders approach
the table and fill some of the empty seats.
One, the blondest of them all, walks up behind a boy. His back
is to me, so all I can see is his black curly hair. He stands up to
embrace Blondie, settling his mouth over hers and smoothing his
hand over her butt.
Holy crap!
Next to me, Troy says, “Looks like Griffin and Adara are on-again
at the moment.”
“Who?” I ask absently.
“Griffin Blake and Adara Spencer. They get back together every
summer,” Nicole says. “Never lasts more than a week into school.”
Griffin Blake. The name rolls through my mind like gentle thunder.
He is a god—okay, bad choice of words, but even with his face
hidden behind the cheerleader he is the most beautiful specimen of
boyhood I have ever seen.
After a brief fantasy about his luscious hair, I take in the rest of
him, starting with his height—all six-foot-plus of him. (Wait, do they
use feet and inches in Greece? Maybe I should say all two meters
of him.) Tall and broad-shouldered, but with the lean, sleek athletic
build of a runner. Which instantly appeals to me, of course.
There’s something vaguely familiar about him.
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