Page 10 of Meet Me in the Vines
Her breath hitches at the touch. My hand rests on her delicate cheek, the other reaching out to hold her hand.
“What has gotten into you?” she whispers, her smile piercing straight through my soul.
This girl is going to be the death of me. I swear it.
“Come on, Audrey. Do you trust me?” I breathe out.
Our chests rise and fall together, feeling the surge of adrenaline and electricity forming between us. Without hesitation, she responds.
“I trust you.”
Chapter Three
AUDREY
I’ve never been the spontaneous girl. The girl that lets the wind fly through her hair and leaves all her worries behind. But tonight, in this moment, I feel free for the first time in my life. My arms hold tightly to Donovan’s neck and my legs wrap around his waist as we run wildly through the vineyard.
Our loud laughter fills the air, and I cling to his back, praying I don’t fall off. My dress is flying up in the wind, feeling a little more exposed than I’m usually comfortable with, but with Donovan, I don’t care.
I lean my head forward and nuzzle my face into the crook of his shoulder. I take a deep inhale, trying to memorize his scent. His sweat smells sweet, mixed with teak and firewood—probably from earlier.
I wish I could bottle up this smell and keep it forever.
“Donovan! Where are you taking me?!”
I shriek with delight as he picks up speed. My god, this boy is fit.
“Almost there. Hold on tight!”
Playfulness stretches across his face, the summer breeze rippling through his thick, brown locks. I hear the steady thump of his feet hitting the ground beneath us, mirroring my heart.His unfettered presence makes me feel awake for the first time in years, filling the deep cracks in my soul with his laughter alone.
His pace is slowing, bringing me back down to earth. If I weren’t holding on so tight, I’d float up to the stars and take Donovan with me. I look past his shoulder and see a white gazebo ahead, adorned with the beam of the moon. A faint echo of music from the party lingers in the air. I realize it’s just us two. Alone.
“We’re here. You like it?” he asks as he gently puts me down and takes my hand, barely needing to catch his breath.
It’s a simple wooden gazebo nestled within the vineyard. Some of the wood is weathered, and looking closely, I spy white strokes of paint from what looks like a stiff-bristled brush. But despite this simplicity, it’s magical. Like a buoy in the middle of a vast sea of rolling grapevines. If planks of wood could talk, I’d want to know their story.
“It’s breathtaking,” I whisper softly.
I take my time moving up the steps, memorizing every divot and ridge along the rails as I drag my fingers across. I sense Donovan’s eyes on me as he stands at the bottom of the steps, watching my every move. I feel an etch beneath my touch and tilt my head to read an inscription carved into the railing.
“Meet Me in the Vines.” My voice is just above a whisper.
My eyes stay on the inscription as I hear Donovan slowly walk up the steps, caging me in from behind, resting his hand on top of mine.
“The story goes that my great grandmother would sneak out late at night to meet my great grandfather here.” His gravelly voice vibrates against my ear, spiking gooseflesh down my neck. “He proposed to her in this very spot.”
His fingers trace up and down my arms, his lips gently graze the side of my neck. I lean back against him, letting myself melt into his touch.
“He sounds like a romantic,” I croon, turning my head slightly and catch his profile. The perfect slant of his nose, the fullness of his bottom lip, the thick dark lashes that enhance the navy blue in his eyes. He wraps his arms tighter around me, smiling against my neck. He gently presses a kiss into my pulse, trailing down to my shoulder.
Could this be the rest of my summer? Sneaking away late at night, being held in the arms of a boy who unlocks every part of my heart? Would it be holding hands down Main? Stealing kisses in a gazebo?
I close my eyes, letting the doubt that forms in my stomach dissipate with his touch. I thought what I wanted was to leave, start a new life. So why is it that now, in this moment, I’m content to put that on hold? The Donovan King effect should really be studied by scientists.
Donovan turns me to face him, hands wrapping around my waist. His thumbs stroke the small of my back. He leans forward and presses his forehead to mine, our breaths matching one another. I snake my arms around his nape, eager to feel the electricity of his skin beneath my fingers, and draw our noses together to touch.
“I think I want to kiss you,” he whispers. His eyes flit back and forth from my eyes to my lips.
