Page 121 of Corkscrew You
Jordan is in the bins, stomping. Being an outdoorsy girl, she can do longer stints than any of us. She may actually be impervious to cold. Her shorts are very short, and her tank top has drawn quite a crowd of young men, of whom she remains oblivious. Brendan never attends the stomping, as he has a bar to run. It’s possibly why Jordan is so enthusiastic. She’s gonna stomp that man right out of her hair.
Nate’s brother Danny is back in LA, and Izzy and Max are out East, at their respective colleges, but threatening to come home for Christmas.
Ava is here, though, and so are Nate’s parents. His dad looks like a new man and has taken to hugging people in a way that those who know him are constantly surprised, and mildly alarmed, by. Nate’s mom has shed ten years’ worth of worry and is positively radiant. She’s chatting with my mom, and the pair look set to become good friends.
Next to them are JP and hisincrediblewife, Petra. Nate tried to explain how beautiful she was, but words didn’t do her justice. I had to suppress a laugh when she greeted Nate, because, honestly, he went all pink and tongue-tied. He told me she’s had that effect on him since he hit puberty, but that Danny waswaymore uncool around her.
“Do you sanitize your feet atall?”
Ava’s next to me, holding a paper cup of wine. She’s wearing running shorts and a cross-backed top. In black, as is Ava’s wont.
“You wash them, and youcanspray them with ethanol,” I say. “But we prefer to keep it chemical-free. Human pathogens can’t survive in wine, anyway, so why bother?”
I nudge her arm. “Will you give it a go?”
“Might do.” She’s surveying the crowd. “Where’s the big guy?”
“Big guy?”
“The barrel maker.”
“Oh.” I peer around. “Somewhere. Cam doesn’t like crowds.”
I point in the direction of a clump of trees. “Try over there.”
“Thanks,” she says, and heads off.
I don’t have time to wonder about it because Javi is calling my name.
“Shelby!” He beckons me over. “You’re on!”
Stomping time.
Up by the bins, I take off my sneakers and wash and dry my feet.
“Bin number three,” says Javi.
I get in and feel the familiar cold squish. Chiara’s right, itiskind of gross, but fun gross, like making mud pies when we were kids. Jordan is in the bin next to me, still going. She beams at me. Her feet are purple, but it’s not from the cold, just grape mess. Jordan’s a hardy one.
“Right.” I hear Javi clap his hands. “Who hasn’t done their turn? OK …you. Yeah, you. Get over here.”
I turn to see who he’s singled out. It’s Nate. Because of course.
“I’m not wearing shorts,” he protests to Javi, laughing.
“Ooh!” Jordan is watching, too. Before I can stop her, she cups her hands round her mouth and yells, “Strip!”
And suddenly, there’s a chorus. “Strip! Strip! Strip!”
Nate’s expression says, “Oh, crap, no”, but the chorus is relentless. I can see Chiara chanting with glee. So he throws up his hands in the surrender gesture, and with one hand, pulls off his T-shirt.
Wolf whistles and cheers. Fair enough. My man has an incredible bod – all lean, gorgeous, well-defined muscle. My feet don’t feel so cold now, because I think my core temperature just rose about twenty degrees.
Nate’s shaking his head, for he knows that now must come the shedding of the jeans.
And they’re off! The crowd goes wild! Nate makes a slow turn, hands out, acknowledging the applause with a wry grin.
I see him glance over at the bins and confer with Javi. Who nods and smiles.
