by Anna Rezes
“I see women’s shoes over here,” I said, pointing to the right.
Women’s shoes didn’t seem to have any order to them, with tennis shoes next to heel and boots with sandals mixed in everywhere. Oliver was looking at stiletto heels.
“Oliver, we might be walking through grass. The heels will sink, and spikes aren’t good while drinking. I’ll end up looking like one of those girls from the bachelorette party.”
He set the heels down and moved on. He held up a stray gladiator sandal, and I cringed. The straps were knee-high, and they had quarter-sized rhinestones down the front. “These are sparkly,” he said, turning toward me.
“They sure are. What size?” I was praying they weren’t the right size.
“Damn, these are too big. They might have more somewhere.”
“God, I hope not,” I grumbled.
We made our way down one aisle, then the next, passing shoes that would have gotten the job done, but apparently, he felt they weren’t as awful as his shoes.
“Here!” he said, holding shoes up to see if they matched my dress. They were beige thick heeled sandals with thin straps and tan fluffy feathers covering the thin straps. “They’re the perfect color, and they’re your size. Put ‘em on. Put 'em on,” he sang.
He was too excited. If these fit, then I’d have feathers covering my feet instead of rhinestones up my shins. I didn’t know which was worse. I sat down on a bench, slipped out of my sandals, and slid the fluffy shoes on my feet. The delicate feathers swallowed my feet, concealing everything but my toes. They tickled my feet a little, but they were comfy enough.
I stood and sashayed down the aisle and back. “What do you think?”
“I think we have a winner.”
“I feel like I have bugs crawling across my feet,” I said as the feathers shifted on my feet. “I’ll have to get used to that.”
He held out the box the shoes came in, and I took the shoes off and placed them inside, catching the price. “Holy shit! These are ninety dollars, Oliver. We can’t get these!”
Oliver smiled, “We aren’t getting them. I am.” He took the box toward the register, and I slipped into my shoes and ran after him.
“Oliver!”
“I’m getting them, Willa,” he said.
“It was supposed to be a cheap thrift store thing, not a ninety-dollar new shoe thing.”
He turned to me. “Watching you all day is worth more than ninety dollars. I’m getting them.”
“Fine,” I huffed, “But I’m getting your damn socks.”
“Fine.”
We walked out of the shoe warehouse, me having spent eight dollars and Oliver having spent one-hundred. It felt pretty uneven, but that’s how it felt like it had been going. Oliver always got the raw end of the deal.
Collin waited for us because Oliver offered to pay him double if he stayed. I climbed into the car, and as soon as Oliver got in, I asked, “Are you rich?”
He responded with, “I do alright.”
I laughed, “That’s a wealthy person’s humble way of saying they make a lot of money.” I looked up to Collin for back up, saying, “Am I right?”
He nodded hesitantly.
I nudged Oliver. “See!”
“Way to put him on the spot,” Oliver chided.
“He didn’t have to agree with me. You’re the one paying him, especially now that I know you make bank, and I’m living on a lowly teacher’s salary.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “People put too much importance on money.”
I laughed, “Says the guy who has money.”
“You make it sound like I’m a millionaire.”
“Shut up Richie Rich and give me my new shoes.”
I changed my shoes and swung my feet up into Oliver’s lap. I held one foot up, asking Collin, “What do you think of my new shoes? Oliver picked them out for me.”
“They match your dress.”
“That was very diplomatic of you,” I said through a laugh. “My feet look furry.”
“That’s my little Ostrich,” Oliver said.
“I might look like a bird, but at least I don’t glow in the dark.”
“So, what’s the deal with you guys,” Collin finally said, “Is this some kind of dare or something?”
I laughed, explaining, “We thought it’d be fun to pick out each other’s attire for the day. So, I picked a fun Romper for him, and he picked out this golden atrocity for me.”
“This is not a fun romper,” Oliver interjected, “It keeps bunching, and it’s too short.”
“It’s not that short,” I said, thinking I could have gone shorter.
He looked to the front of the car at the same time he tried to tug his shorts down a little. “Collin, are these shorts too short?”
Collin looked back in the rearview mirror at us. “They are pretty short.”
“See, Collin agrees.”
“Only because he knows you’re the one paying him,” I said.
Collin laughed.
“Crap!” I said, “What am I going to do with my other shoes?”
Collin spoke up, saying, “I’m driving all day. Just put them in the trunk and text me when you’re ready for a ride back.”
Oliver said, “You’d do that for us?”
“Yeah,” Collin admitted, pulling into the winery. “I want to hear how this goes for you guys.”
Oliver got his phone number, and then we stepped out of the car, put the shoes in the trunk, and waved goodbye to Collin like we were the best of friends.
I turned to Oliver, and he was already looking at me, He held out his elbow, “Ready, duckling?”
I looped my arm through his. “Can’t wait, glow-worm!”
The place was abuzz with people, and everyone aside from the staff wore casual summer attire. Even Oliver wore casual summer attire, but I looked like I was ready for a night in Vegas.
“I am so overdressed,” I whispered.
“You better think up a good story for why you’re dressed so spectacularly,” he whispered.
“Oh, I’ll think of something,” I had to beat him to it. I bet he was coming up with a story about me already.
People were beginning to notice us, and I was way too sober not to notice the sideways glances. I needed a drink! We were escorted back to a bar where we sampled wines, and people gave us a wide berth.
“Let’s get a table,” I said, wanting to hide.
“Okay, but before we do, let’s break the ice. Either we make everyone our friend or they will keep looking at us like we’re insane. Let’s make it a game. We take turns starting conversations with strangers, and after a minute or two, we rescue one another by using one of our cute nicknames. Like I would say, ‘there’s my fluffy gold star,’ and you would say, “My lemon drop, where have you been?’”
“That could be fun.”
He added, “If we can’t come up with a nickname or if we make it too obvious, then we have to down our glass or take a shot.”
“So, essentially you’re proposing a break-the-ice-with complete-strangers drinking game.”
He grinned and nodded. “Yeah, what do you say?”
I shrugged. “Why not?”
Oliver emptied the bottle of wine we ordered into our oversized wine glasses, and we clinked them together. “May the best man or woman win.”
Oliver turned and walked across the room to a group of four women who looked to be in their sixties. They were gathered around a bar top table that overlooked the vineyard below.
“That’s an interesting choice,” I said into my glass as I took a sip, watching him work.
He was charming and had them all captivated. He looked so confident and comfortable, and I knew I was going to lose this game. I didn’t want to interrupt him because then it’d be my turn, but I also didn’t want to sit there alone, so I crossed the room, coming up behind him to slap his ass. “There’s my ray of sunshine.”
He turned toward me, and I couldn’t tell if his surp
rise was real or not, but his face lit up when he saw me, and he said, “There she is, my glittering ballerina. I was just telling these wonderful ladies about the fundraiser we just came from.”
I played along, “Oh!” I looked around the table, smiling. “It’s such an important cause. We really ought to do more.”
“I was bragging that you were the founder of the children’s spelunking foundation.”
My face felt hot, and I was sure I was blushing. I stumbled over my words a bit. “It’s just so important that every child gets down in those caves.”
Oliver kept going, “I told them how important it was for the children but tell them the other reason.”
What was he doing? I had just started to take a sip and instead drew it out, sipping very slowly. I lowered the glass and swished my wine before swallowing. “Mmm, you can really taste the oak in this one.” I was talking out my ass. I had no idea. Oliver cleared his throat, holding in his reaction to my bullshit. Apparently, I got it wrong.
“Plastic,” I finally said, latching onto a world problem. With confidence, I said, “Every child should have the opportunity to see the caves before they fill up with plastic. People are cleaning up the oceans, and all those plastic bottles aren’t just going to disappear. They have to go somewhere and where better than hidden below the earth. We have to stand up and protect our caves.”
“See,” Oliver said, putting his arm around my shoulder. “What’d I tell you? She’s amazing.”
The woman nearest me, said, “That’s a lovely cause.”
Maybe these women were drunk because they seemed way too accepting of such a ridiculous charity.
The women across the table said, “Oliver, you’re right. She did an amazing job. You didn’t give her much to work with, but she pulled it off.”
I tried to hide my confusion until I understood.
Oliver looked down at me, smiling as he squeezed my shoulder, “I might not be very good at lying. These women cracked me right away. I told them I failed, and that you were way better at improvising.”
“And honey, you were amazing,” the women closest to me said, squeezing my hand.
I released a breath. “I wondered why you were all so accepting of the children’s spelunking foundation.”
That gave me a few laughs which softened the blow from Oliver’s deceit. It was stupid that it upset me at all, but I felt a little betrayed.
Another woman said, “She will beat you at your own game.”
“We’ll see. It’s your turn my sparkling gemstone.”
I looked at his glass. “You’d better drink that because you lost. You’re going down my big fruity man.” I turned to the table. “It was great to meet you all. Now, I'm going to show him how it’s done.”
I walked away with way more confidence than I felt. The place was pretty packed, which was surprising for a Thursday, but I guess this was a common vacation spot.
I debated which table to approach and narrowed it down to two. It was between the table filled with women my age or the table of men. Girls could be mean, but I was better at handling mean girls than I was at understanding most men. Oliver was the exception, probably because he had been so sad and honest. These guys were laughing, and so I went to the table full of women.
I approached awkwardly and set my glass on the corner of their table. “Hey ladies, can I bug you for just a second?”
They gave me looks that said they’d rather I didn’t, but they politely obliged. “My friend Oliver just came out of the closet, and he wanted to come here to meet some guys, but he was nervous, so he convinced me to come. The only reason I’m dressed like a Vegas showgirl is because he didn’t want to be the most awkward person in the room. So here I am, looking crazy and he hasn’t spoken to a single guy since we’ve been here. I think he’s self-conscious of his outfit.”
They seemed to drink in the gossip, so I kept going. “He’s a lot more comfortable with women so if you could compliment him when you see him, that’d be great. He’s the one in the pineapple romper.”
“Poor guy. You’re a good friend. I’m not gonna lie. I was wondering about your attire.”
“He said if I looked like a Vegas showgirl then maybe he could show off his inner girl,” I said, milking it.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard Oliver say, “There’s my golden angel.”
I gave the women a pleading face before I spun to Oliver with a smile. “There’s my bear chaser.”
The quick crease in his forehead said he didn’t understand, but he smiled at the women, and they all greeted him, a much nicer reception than I received.
“I love the romper,” one women said.
“And that hair. You’re too hot to be straight. The sexy ones are always gay,” another one said.
Oliver slipped me a look, and I smiled as he said, “You ladies are too sweet. Is it that obvious?”
“You’re definitely giving off a strong gay vibe.”
I put my hand on his arm. “See, Oliver, they all accept you for who you are, and they don’t even know you.”
Oliver turned toward me, and his hand caressed my face as he deadpanned, “This doesn’t mean we have to stop having sex, does it?”
I knew the look on my face had to convey surprise if not panic. I went with shock, putting my hand to my chest. “I can’t believe you’d bring that up. I was in love with you, and all you wanted to do is watch gay porn!” I spun on my heel and walked toward the bar. It was his turn to embarrass me. I ordered a lemon drop at the bar because I had been craving it since Oliver brought it up.
Oliver came up behind me, setting his empty glass on the bar. He swept the hair from my shoulder and leaned forward, his face touching my neck while he rested his hands on the bar on either side of me. He had me trapped. Not that I wanted to escape him. I liked him right where he was. His breath tickled my neck, and I leaned my head to the side to give him better access.
“That was quick thinking, angel.”
“I could say the same to you, my sweet striptease.”
He whispered, “Bear chaser?”
“It means you like big hairy men.”
He laughed against my neck, and I swear it was the sexiest experience of my life, sitting there on a barstool at a winery, with Oliver wrapped around me. I didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought. I was primed and ready to have my way with him.
They delivered my drink, and as I grabbed the glass, Oliver ran his hands down my arms, whispering, “I can’t wait for later.”
“If you keep that up, you won’t have to.”
“I know you feel ridiculous, but you look really hot.” He backed up a little, giving me room to breathe without inhaling him.
Oliver
The warm breeze felt nice, and it brought with it the sweet, airy scent of the vineyards. The aroma reminded me of freshly cut fruit, a light sweetness rather than cloying.
We sat at a table on the oversized patio that overlooked the vineyard. Our table’s umbrella shielded Willa and me from the afternoon sun. The waiter had just taken away our empty plates but left the charcuterie board behind because we were still picking at it. We had been at the winery for a few hours, and we were having a blast. We had already had an excessive amount to drink, so about an hour before we began sipping water along with our wine.
We mingled with a good portion of our fellow patrons, and while most of them thought we were nuts, some of them seemed to love us.
A band began setting up on a stage at the edge of the patio. It was next to the wide-open doors that led to the bar. There was a big grassy area next to the stage with a few picnic tables further out.
Willa said, “I dare you to get up and do the Macarena to their first song.”
At some point in the last hour, we started daring each other to do random things. It started small but continued to escalate, and so far, we had each complied with every dare. I couldn’t be the one to break our streak.
“Okay,” I said.
/> The electric guitar began, and the tune was unmistakable. My head fell into my hands, and I took a breath.
“This should be fun,” Willa taunted.
I scooted back in my chair and walked out to the open grassy area in front of everyone and as the intro played, and I began the Macarena when they started singing, “She’s got a smile, that it seems to me . . .”
It was a fast-paced version of Sweet Child O’ Mine, so at least I could match the pace to the song. I wanted to look for Willa, but I didn’t want to see the rest of the crowd.
Then suddenly, she was right there in front of me, with her phone out, and her camera rolling.
“Oww, looking good, pinstripes!”
I shook my head as she continued to record. I put more shimmy into the dance, licking my finger before putting it on my hips.
She was laughing so hard that I knew her video would give motion sickness to all who watch it. Finally, she tucked the phone into the top of her dress and joined me in the Macarena.
The singer shouted to the crowd, “Come on, everyone, get out there!”
I laughed, surprised by how many people joined us. The women who thought I was gay, the older ladies who thought Willa and I were the cutest couple they had ever met, and even some of the couples we had spoken to came out to dance. It shocked me when the group of middle-aged guys got up. They were here on a work retreat and seemed too macho to dance. Granted, they did a modified version, holding their beers and drinking the whole time.
Willa was jumping up and down, clapping as they joined. I fucking loved her excitement. I loved to see her happy. She turned that excitement toward me, and her smile penetrated my core. It knocked the wind out of me. My heart tripped over itself.
Like spotting a bald eagle in the wilderness, Willa’s uninhibited joy was rare and magnificent to behold. I couldn’t get enough of her. I was happy the band extended the song to give everyone a chance to get up and make a fool of themselves. It gave me more time to watch her dance.
The band continued with songs people could dance to, and Willa was showing me all her best moves, like the shopping cart, lawnmower, and bus driver.