Page 7 of My Turn

A crush. That was child’s play.

I took the bottle with the indented cork and opened it. When I poured her a glass, I was glad to see that it didn’t look any different from mine. The ‘don’t be suspicious’ song came into my head and made me chuckle as I took a sip of my wine. Too bad I couldn’t share the joke with her.

The door opened and a moment later, she came around the corner in a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top.

There goes that masturbation session. Fat lot of good it did me.

She grabbed her glass and drained it in one breath. I smiled as I poured her a second.

“The wine before a hello,” I noted, feigning offense.

She wrinkled her nose and offered me a mocking smile. “Hey, Jayce. How’s the job? How’s the wife? Is your nice house treating you well?”

“Still my dream job. The wife is locked in my trunk, as usual. Can’t have her trying to escape while I’m out. And the house is a bunch of wood with a lid on top. Nothing new.”

“Well, at least someone has good things going for them.”

Her despondent expression made me step forward. She wrapped her arms around my middle and let out a sigh against my chest.

“Growth isn’t a straight line,” I said before I inhaled her scent. Peaches. I fucking loved that smell.

“Wavy lines suck and I’d like a refund for this ride.”

“Nope. We’re on it together and if you get off, I’ll be terrified. I’ll probably start screaming and embarrass myself.”

Her laugh made me pull back so that I didn’t miss her smile. After a moment, she collected herself and took a slower drink. Her eyes lit up and she bit down on her lip.

“You really did it.”

I raised a brow. “You didn’t believe me.”

“It’s been seven years, so I was starting to give up hope.”

I’d almost given up hope too, but I refused to disappoint her. It all started one night in college. We’d been determined to find out if expensive wine was actually any better than the cheap shit. It was. After falling in love with a five-hundred-dollar bottle of tempranillo- which we acquired legally at nineteen, of course- we made a stupid bet fueled by inebriation.

She determined that I couldn’t recreate the wine because it was fancy and expensive. I took that personally. So, for seven years I’d been making wine, trying and failing to create that perfect blend so that we didn’t go broke buying our favorite bottle. Now that I had my own miniature vineyard in my backyard, it took up even more of my time, but I was a stubbornfucker. I’d definitely spent more money than we were trying to save by doing this, but it didn’t matter. That look on her face right now was worth it.

“Never give up hope,” I said with a smirk. “Don’t get addicted to the stuff, though. I made ten bottles and it’ll be another year before the grapes are ready again.”

“Boo. I’ll just have to supplement with Barefoot.”

I grimaced. “I wouldn’t be your best friend if I let you drink that watered down trash.”

There was a lingering smile on her face as she shook her head. “This really does taste just like it. We’ll have to buy a bottle to do an official comparison.”

“I have a case on the way to my house.”

“Jayce,” she scolded. “Don’t tell me you spent that much.”

“It’s not that much.”

Her eyes went vacant for a moment as she counted on her fingers. “That’s like… Six thousand dollars!”

It was nearly eight, but she didn’t need the details. I wasn’t a millionaire, but I made good money as an aerospace engineer. Since I lived alone and used an inheritance from my grandfather to put a down payment on my house, I was pretty well off. I worked from home the majority of the time and used my freedom to garden, build shit in my backyard and, well, the obvious- watch Alana.

“They had a really good deal,” I lied, concealing my lips behind the glass as I took a long drink.

“You’re a bastard.”

---