“No, no, no. It was me. I did the … things.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I found him outside playing beer pong, and I pulled him aside. And in front of the entire senior class, I said … I said …” I groan at the ceiling.
“Come on, Zoe. You can tell me.”
“I said, ‘Okay, let’s go have the sex.’”
“No.” Hannah’s eyes bug wide. “Thesex?!”
“Then I clapped my hands, Hannah, Iclapped my fucking hands, and said, ‘Chop chop.’ And then, I threw up in the pool.”
Hannah doesn’t let go of my hands, but her mouth falls open.A startled laugh escapes. “Chop …chop? Oh, Zoe”!
“Charlaine was there, she saw everything. Everyone did.” I throw back the rest of my tea. “They called me Chop Chop the rest of high school.”
Tears stream down Hannah’s cheeks as her chest quakes with the effort of holding back laughter. “That’sterrible, Zoe, oh my GOD!”
I breathe deeply through my nose, then snort, and that’s all it takes for Hannah to fully lose control.
“I’m—so—sorry,” she says between gasps, “to laugh at your— your—trauma!”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not trauma. Well, not anymore at least.” Chance and I have even laughed about it at local wine events. Most people who knew me then and know me now as the proud, hot lesbian that I am think it’s pretty hilarious and was an obvious sign of what was to come. But it doesn’t change the fact that Charlaine saw me saythatto her twinbrotherand knows me better asChop Chopthan Zoe.
“Okay, babe.” Hannah stands up, wiping away the tears from her eyes. “If you want to shower before the tour, you better go now.”
I grumble into my mug, and Hannah extends a hand. “Come on.” She bites her lip, the words hovering there, and I glare at her. “Hann—”
“Chop Chop,” she squeaks, then absolutely loses it.
Hannah giggles all the way down to the vineyard’s parking lot. I forgive her, but only because I love her. She hugs me tight.
“Don’t think about the embarrassing parts, Zoe.” She pulls away and runs her hands over my hair. “You’re amazing, and I guarantee you that’s all Laine and Harlow are thinking about right now. Not the fact you—”
“Han-nah! You promised you wouldn’t bring it up all the time.”
“—ever … said … things,” she finishes brightly. I give her a scathing look, and laughing, she waves goodbye.
Hannah’s words provide comfort, though. The sex was objectively amazing, and Laine’s a big-time vintner out west. She’s probably visiting her folks for a few days before the growing season starts, then she’ll disappear into the sunset again. Who knows? Maybe she’ll look me up next time she’s in town, too, and I’ll have another chance to make her see stars. The idea heats me up from the inside out.
I hustle over to the tasting room where our tours usually begin, feeling more in control of the situation already. A few minutes pass, and nobody shows up. There’s a rental car parked near the treehouse, but the guest isn’t here, and neither is Dad. Maybe they already started? My phone buzzes from my pocket, and I check the message. Could be the guest.
WARNING, it’s that bitch Rachel
The jig is up, Brennan. I found out about the Everyday Bon Vivant festival.
WARNING, it’s that bitch Rachel
Might as well prepare your concession speech now because that showcase is mine.
I suck a deep breath in through my nostrils. Head start officially squandered.
And I have no vintner.
I mouthFuck!at my phone. I can’t show weakness, though. Can’t let her know anything’s wrong. I’m not ready to concedeyet.
Zoe
It’s on, Rachel.
Zoe
