He + She

by Michelle Warren

  She brings me a new rum and Coke, but this time it really has rum. I’ve spent this entire evening around people drinking, smelling it on their breath, and catching the scent of weed from dark corners of the party. So I finally do what I’ve been salivating to do all night—I stop thinking like I have wanted to do for so long, give in to the moment, and drink it because I want to stop being jealous and controlled, I want to have fun, too.

  From the moment I finish the first drink and the liquor shoots through my bloodstream, everything unfolds quickly. I find myself caught up in the excitement of the party, and the exhilaration of being with Shea. We drink a lot. I’m loosening up like I always do: laughing, smiling, maybe even acting a little goofy. When I’m like this, I’m the life of the party. I even give Shea a run for her money.

  We dance because she talks me into it. She’s really soulful. Her hips sway and bump into mine, her moves silky and sexy. She grips my suspenders, somehow turning them into a tool of seduction. Every move she makes turns me on. We can’t keep our hands off each other. With her next to me, she makes me look like a better dancer than I really am. I realize she just does that in general . . . makes me look like a better person. But I also feel like a better person. Somehow, a happier one.

  The sunset fades, graduating into complete darkness, and the stars fight with the strung twinkle lights. The music stops and a man wearing a tuxedo walks on the stage, takes a microphone, and makes an announcement. “It’s time to bless the wine!” Everyone cheers, including us because I think we’re both drunk. It seems everyone is, and this is the highlight of the party. We go along with it.

  A priest walks out, takes the microphone, bows his head, and says a prayer, while waving his hand over the top of a wide-open barrel of grapes. It must be fifteen feet wide, and it’s set off to the side of the party. At the end of his prayer, the crowd shouts the word “amen” in unison. Shea and I shout the loudest. The announcer takes control again and asks for the women at the party to help crush the grapes. Shea is the first to slip off her silver sandals. I pick her up in my arms and lift her over the edge, wobbling as I place her inside the barrel.

  The band begins playing a special song, something that everyone here seems to know and sings to, but I’m too busy staring at Shea. The twenty other women in the background are hazy, but together, in a dance of stomping, they crush the grapes beneath their bare feet. It’s like I’m peeking through the lens of my camera and can only focus on her—singing, laughing, and turning the color of grape juice as it splatters on her, on me, and on everyone else. Shea’s beautiful, and I want to reach out and take her again.

  When the song is over, I do. I lift her out of the barrel and place her on the ground, then clasp her hand, pulling her inside with me through the large open barn doors that lead to the barrel caves beneath the chateau. Inside there are casks the size of trucks, and we slip behind them, against the far wall in the darkness where no one can see us.

  Chapter 42

  She

  Hew presses me against the curve of a tall wine barrel and kisses me fiercely, and I welcome him. I want his arms tangled with mine, his warm breath rushing over my body, an intoxicating replay from this afternoon.

  The alcohol has dulled my senses again and the truth is that I’m happy to release myself from always worrying if I’m doing the right thing, being the right person, making the right choices so that everyone around me is happy. I spent too long playing to the needs of others. All I need to do in this life is make myself happy in this moment.

  “Come with me.” This time I grasp his hand and race us back outside through the open barn doors into the party, weave around the dancers, the groups of people sipping wine, and finally away from the frenzy and into the dark quiet of the vineyards. Dirt presses between my toes as we run. By the time we stop, we can just hear a gentle buzz of music on the breeze. Dimmed yellow and white lights twinkle in the distance.

  “Look at the roses at the end of each row of grapes. Aren’t they beautiful?” I drift to one, catching my breath before I lift a wide bloom and sniff.

  “They are.”

  I glance over my shoulder to see Hew intently staring at me.

  “I bet you know why they plant them this way, don’t you?” Carefully I bend one stem, breaking it off the bush.

  “I do.”

  “Tell me.” I slink back to him, rolling the stem of the rose between my fingers.

  “The winegrower uses the roses as an early warning sign to watch for mildew, since roses and grapevines react to diseases in the same way.”

  I stop and stand several feet away, soaking him in. Hew is handsome, sexy, sweet, smart, and charming, and I know I’m falling for him, too. There’s no need to know his name; I know his soul, and it’s beautiful. The rose drops from my fingers, and I reach for the tie holding my dress together. Taking my time, I unwrap Hew’s masterpiece, never removing my gaze from his. Nor do his eyes waver from mine. That’s how I know we want the same thing, to care for each other the same way.

  With my body completely revealed, I let the tablecloth fall to the ground. In the breeze, it lands spread flat between us. We meet in the middle, only an inch apart.

  “You’re heaven to me.” He brushes his palms down my bare arms.

  Looking up into his glassy eyes, I see all of his concerns. He’s always so understanding, so careful with me.

  “Just stand still,” I say, breathing the words against his chest. I unknot the bow tie, and then tug at his shirt, lifting it and sliding it from his slacks. One by one I release each of the buttons. Once his shirt is free, I spread it open and remove first one of his arms and then the other, before letting the fabric fall to the ground. But I leave the suspenders. I’ve been tugging and playing with them all night while dancing, and I’m not done with them yet. My hands slide over his defined pecs, and his chest hardens under my touch.

  “You’re driving me crazy.” His lips brush my forehead.

  Wrapping my wrists into his suspenders, I clench them with my fingers, binding him to me as I ease him to the ground. On our knees and face-to-face, unable to restrain myself any longer, I kiss him, needing to give myself to him completely again. I unbutton his pants, slide his suspenders over and off his strong shoulders, and free him and myself of every piece of fabric between us, until there is only air.

  We’re equal now, naked in the night. Hew takes the lead and I’m eager to let him. He reclines me to the ground, but takes his time. He reaches for the rose that I dropped nearby. With the flower he teases me, softly dragging the fragrant petals over my face, sliding it over my neck and circling my perky breasts. With each stroke, my body reacts, my back arching, stomach muscles tensing, skin shivering, and my hands clench the fabric beneath us. All of my senses amp up on overdrive. He moves farther south, gliding the petals over my hip bones and teasing the length of my legs in long, sensual strokes. At the end he switches to kisses, blowing and nipping while working his way back up my legs. Somehow he knows my most sensitive areas—ankles, the back of my knees, inside my thighs. My toes curl each time we connect.

  Hew leaves no spot untouched or worshipped. And when he finally takes me, I willingly melt into him, merging together. Lust rushes through my body, and I allow the current to drive me over the edge of a waterfall.

  Chapter 43

  He

  We lie in the vineyard, holding each other, drunk on each other. Shea’s tucked into the curve of my shoulder. Nothing in my life has ever felt so right or so perfect. I kiss her head as she points to the twinkling stars. Just like the night we drove here, they and the full moon are shining down on her like they know what I know—she’s special.

  “What’s that one?” she asks.

  “What makes you think I know?”

  “You seem to possess a vast knowledge of useless information.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

  She turns and gently bites my shoulder. “Tell me—tell me—tell me,”
she repeats in a monotone voice.

  “Okay, well, that’s Ursa Major. But I only know because along with all the other maps, I also had a map of the constellations.”

  “That one?” She points in a new direction.

  “Lyria, Hercules, Corona Borealis, Virgo, Crater, Leo,” I reel off as I trace my finger over different areas of the sky. “Do you need me to go on?”

  “What else do you know?” she says in challenge.

  “The eye of an ostrich is bigger than its brain.”

  “Don’t stop until I tell you.” She kisses my arm.

  “Astronauts can’t cry in space.”

  She slides her wet lips over my shoulder and then dots my chest with kisses. Each unusual fact I share wins me more attention, but as she continues her quest, I start to mumble, losing my concentration.

  “You’re not done.” She circles my abs with the tip of her tongue.

  “Leonardo Da Vinci invented scissors . . . and it’s impossible to lick your elbow.”

  This useless fact causes Shea to sit up and twist her arm in strange ways to force it toward her face. “You’re right. I can’t. You’re so smart!”

  “When a man anticipates sex, his hair grows.” I continue with a smirk, hoping she will return to her previous agenda.

  That bit of information has the desired effect and she lowers herself on top of me, pressing our naked bodies together. She runs her fingers through my hair, winding strands around her fingers. “It does look a little longer—and bigger,” she concedes.

  “Bigger?” I squeeze her. “And that’s not the only thing.”

  Then I attack her. She screams, giggles, and kicks but then gives in as I roll on top of her and pin her hands above her head, locking her hips down with my thighs. She’s breathing heavy with laughter, and she’s never looked as beautiful to me as she does tonight. I drag my palms down her arms, kissing her skin, and then we kiss again. With this introduction, I dive in, wanting to make her mine once more. This time is more playful, and I know we’re making far too much of a ruckus, but it doesn’t concern me. At least, not until I hear a noise that is not our own.

  “Do you hear that?” I pull away from Shea and look for it.

  “It’s just a car.” She slides her arms around my waist, her hands drifting to my ass.

  A pair of headlights appears. They stop near us at the end of the vineyard.

  “Oh no.” Just as I say the words, a searchlight mounted on the side of the vehicle pops on and a beam of light cuts across the night. Dividing the dark, it scans the vineyard in our direction.

  “We’re busted!” I say. We jump up, simultaneously collecting our belongings.

  “Run!” She laughs as she streaks across the field and I follow, my clothes balled under my arm. A spotlight swerves in our direction and catches us. The back of Shea’s fleeing naked body is illuminated in the night. When our shadows cast long on the ground, she yelps and darts behind the shield of a row of grapevines, and I chase her. We race down the maze, making our way in the general direction of the party, and pass some departing partygoers along the way. They are too drunk to care that we’re naked, and catcall as we streak past.

  When the light first popped on, my heart stopped for a second time today. A run-in with the cops could totally screw me. But now that we’re far away from the danger, where no car could easily chase us, I breathe a sigh of relief and return to this moment with Shea.

  Shea makes it back to the car first, tagging the hood like we’re running a race, returning to home base. She swivels just as I approach and I gather her in my arms. Even now, out of breath and scared out of my wits, heart hammering in my chest at the thought of being caught, I can’t stop kissing her, wanting her, or needing her. If anything, I want her more. She gives in and we lean against the car.

  “That was amazing. You’re amazing.” I breathe into her ear. Her mussed hair tickles my nose, but she pushes me away. At first I’m shocked, but then I see what she’s up to. She fumbles for the car’s door handle. Then she opens the door, grabs my arm, and tugs me inside, causing me to fall on top of her.

  Even though the car is tiny, it allows for some interesting moves, and we finally finish what we started in the vineyard.

  Chapter 44

  She

  As I wake, I remember I’m in Hew’s arms. I squeeze my eyes and peek with one to look through the dewy window of the passenger seat of the car. Outside it’s dawn, and the birds in the trees around us chirp loudly. When I try to move, I’m stiff, and my mouth is dry. Hew stirs at my side, and I pull away from him to stretch out my arms and twist my back.

  “God, I have such a headache.” I rub my head.

  “Ugh. Me, too.” He moans.

  “I think we drank too much.” I chuckle, slowly remembering everything, as every detail rushes back. My head hurts until I get to the end of the night and remember the vineyard, and the car. I look down at my naked body, smile, and then take in Hew’s lean, tanned muscles. I move in and give him a kiss. “Last night was amazing.”

  He looks down at me and grimaces.

  “What’s wrong?” He says nothing. “I look really bad, don’t I?” I fuss with my hair and rub my face.

  “No, it’s not you.” Hew rubs my arm. “You look beautiful. And yesterday was—wow.”

  We kiss again, but there’s something wrong. I can sense it.

  “You ready to blow this party?” Hew pushes back the seat, fishes for his slacks on the floor, and slides them back on. From his pocket he pulls out the car keys. He’s being quiet, unlike his usual self, and I want to hope that this is just his cranky hangover personality. I mean, I get it. My head is killing me, too. I try not to dwell and wrangle the tablecloth, now covered with stains from the grapes and the grass, wrapping it around my body and tying it like a towel, just good enough to get back us to our room.

  Hew starts the car and drives us back to Yountville, then parks at our B&B.

  Chapter 45

  He

  I fucked up. I fucked everything up! Shea is sitting next to me in the car on our ride back to the B&B. She’s humming and happy about last night, whereas I’m ready to drive myself into a concrete wall for being such a complete fuck-up by giving in and drinking.

  My grip tightens on the steering wheel, turning my knuckles white. The voice that won’t shut up is screaming at me, raging inside my body, whirling like waves in a storm, crashing and beating the sand over and over. I want to scream, punch, and kick myself the way Sollie Winters did. I deserve to be beaten like that every day, every hour, every minute and second until I’m nothing. It still may not be enough. Burning in hell wouldn’t be enough.

  Beth’s youthful face flashes before my eyes. Her death was the wake-up call that forced me to want to make changes in my life. It dictated all the choices I made back then. I made a promise to her the night she died, the night I survived, and I just broke it for the sake of having fun.

  Damn it!

  I imagine slamming my head into the steering wheel and I would if Shea weren’t here. I don’t want to ruin her moment with my complete stupidity.

  We arrive back at the B&B. Outside the car, Shea grabs my hand, tugging me toward the front door.

  “Why don’t you go jump back in bed and I’ll meet you there?” I try to keep my words level.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just going to go grab a coffee at the shop we saw in town. You want something?”

  “I only want you.”

  She lifts up on tiptoe and kisses me sweetly, and my heart breaks for letting her down as much as myself. If there were ever a new reason to finally break free of my addiction, it would be for her. What I did last night was a mistake.

  “Hurry back.” Her smile is lopsided and mischievous as she tugs the loose tablecloth tight around her chest.

  “I will.”

  She strides away. When I hear the door close behind her, I make my way down the street and duck into the alley behind a retail shop. I
finally allow myself to scream. The sound echoes off the buildings, shattering the early-morning peace. I kick the brick wall like I want to kick myself. I throw myself against the rough surface, trying to break bones, but I’m not that lucky. And then, like the grand finale for the fuck-up I am, my stomach turns with pain. The roil builds in my gut and explodes from my mouth, all over the concrete. Holding my knees, I hurl until there is nothing left inside. Finally empty, I fall against the wall and let the mortar bite at my skin as I slide to the ground and wail like a lost child.

  I sit for an hour, wallowing in self-loathing. Depression, my old friend, creeps back, blackening my thoughts and killing my hopes. When people begin jogging and walking their dogs on the nearby street, I stand and steady myself. I need to get back to Shea. I know she’ll keep me safe from myself.

  Back at the B&B, she’s sleeping. Thank God. I slip into the bathroom and clean up. My damaged knuckles, arms, and legs sting under the cold shower, but the water calms me, or maybe I’m just exhausted from only having three hours’ sleep last night. I slide into bed next to the only positive person in my life and wrap my arms around her.

  I feel like I’ve barely slept when I wake up sometime later, tangled in the bedsheets. Shea is already showered and dressed. She stands at the mirror in the room with dripping-wet hair and scissors in her hand. She pulls one strand straight and clips the length in one quick stroke. A long piece of hair flutters to the ground.

  “What are you doing?” I shove a pillow out of the way for a better view.

  “Cutting my hair. I’ve been wanting to for months.”

  “Why? Your hair is perfect.” And beautiful and I love the way it fans over your shoulders and down your back.

  “It feels good to have it short again, like it makes me stronger. I think I’ll dye it, too. It used to be this really pretty ginger color and I loved it.” She snips another strand.