God of My Dreams (Greek Heroes #1) ✅ Completed

Chapter Eleven: Lost in Thought

Lost in Thought

“I swear to God Gwen, there’s gotta be a secret breeding site that only churns out sexy, hot firefighters for the FDNY. Those men are like no other on the planet.” Marisol sighed, leaning back in the cab as the yellow SUV zipped in and out of traffic like Grand Turismo meets Grand Theft Auto, New York. It was intensely scary and tended to prematurely grey the novice tourist. Marisol and Gwen-Stacey, being neither, didn't even blink as they avoided several oncoming cars, horns blaring in their wake.

"You think so?” Gwen-Stacey asked, only half-heartedly listening to her. She wasn’t prone to drooling over men in uniform the way Marisol usually did, but she was pretty sure that was only because she couldn’t actually see them. Instead, she found a sick sort of amusement in hearing her friend’s reaction to them. It was better than HBO or Starz. Well, at least it was on a normal day, but today was definitely not counting as anything resembling normal.  

Her mind kept turning back to the afternoon's strange events. Had she and her fellow co-workers really just passed out on their office floor in the middle of the day because of carbon monoxide poisoning? At least that was the official ruling, though she’d heard everything from a gas leak to some kind of mild terrorist plot when she’d made her way outside with the others. If it hadn’t been for a juvenile police officer pulling the alarm as he witnessed the odd scene (and high tailing it out of there before he dropped too), who knows what may have happened to them?

Marisol herself was feeling a little tense about her near brush with death and had asked out six firefighters before they’d flagged down a cab for her and gently, yet insistently pushed her into it. It was a new personal best for her closest friend. Gwen-Stacey had been busy sucking in the free oxygen provided by one of the EMTs (while insisting she was perfectly fine and didn’t need to go to the hospital) when she'd heard Marisol waving from the cab’s window, yelling for her to get her butt in gear.  

“Oh, I hope the Puerto Rican one calls me. He was so cute. Did you see his eyes? Oh…I just love those Boricuas. They really know how to get down…if you know what I mean,” Marisol laughed. The sound of her laughter was so loud in the enclosed place, that she actually made the cabbie jump. Gwen-Stacey couldn’t see it of course, but she felt the movement from where she sat just fine.

Gwen-Stacey turned to her friend. “Marisol…do you remember what we were doing?”

“What? You mean when we were being treated by some of New York’s fit and finest? Or, before, when they were bum-rushing us down the hallway and out the building?”

“No, before that.”

“When we were all sleeping in the office because of some freaky carbon monoxide haze?”

“No,” Gwen-Stacey said losing some of her patience, “Before you fell asleep. What was the last thing you remember doing?”

She didn’t have to see to picture the pensive look on her friend’s face. Gwen-Stacey could almost hear Marisol’s brows furrowing on her face as she thought about it. “Well…uh…I remember I was looking for you. You know these heels are mainly for show. I hate it when you disappear like some kind of blind ninja...have me running all over the place looking for you…”

Gwen-Stacey tried to head off her friend’s rant before it got too far off the ground. “Why Marisol? Do you remember why you were looking for me?”

“Yeah. You had a visitor. Someone asked to see you,” Marisol answered

“Do you remember who it was?”