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Me: LOL, they are – you got any mead recipes to try out yet?
Penny: no, aren’t you the wine and cider maker???
Me: well yeah, but I’m not flying solo in this little venture, now am I?
Penny sends back a whole row of the eye rolling emojis, which actually makes me laugh out loud. I’m about to reply, when the bubbles continue, letting me know she isn’t finished.
Penny: fine, I’ll do some research…but don’t blame me when it tastes like shit!
Me: would I do that?
Penny: YES!!!!
I realize I’m standing in the middle of Melrose Hive with a stupid ass grin on my face as I text a girl that I regularly have completely inappropriate thoughts about. Grateful no one is around to see me, I fire off another text to her.
Me: whatever…I’ll do some research too, so we can both wear the blame, ok…happy?
Penny: ohhhhh, the things you do for me But yes, let’s do this! We can have a tasting session before we unleash it on everyone else. Should we get started this weekend?
Me: it’s a date.
Chapter Fifteen
Penny
It’s a date...
I have no idea why, but I want to run around and squeal like a teenage girl and call all my friends and tell them I have a date. It’s this weird giddy feeling of excitement that flutters in my belly and up into my chest, making it feel like it’s hard to breathe. It feels like my whole body is vibrating, like something real and kinetic is happening between us.
I’m being completely fucking ridiculous. This is a work thing, not a legitimate date and the schoolgirl in me needs to get my shit together, because this could end up being something huge.
Not whatever I think this thing between Tommy and me is, but the whole bees and honey and mead. This is a winery and now a place that produces cider. If we’re any good at this, I may be able to convince Lauren, Ellen and Jack to let us mass-produce the mead and bring in even more revenue for the business.
I grab a book I bought about the bees and flip to a small section about mead making, but it’s really very basic, only giving a few details about how it’s mass produced. We certainly won’t be mass-producing anything for a while. This could all be a total failure and taste like complete shit.
I turn to the Internet, which is a little better, but it’s mostly just information on how to make mead in your home, which is essentially what we’ll be doing at first. But all they talk about is using store bought honey and we definitely don’t have store bought honey. Ours is the real fucking deal with dead bee bodies stuck in it and I’m sure all kinds of bacteria.
I’m about two hours into my search when my phone chimes out with a notification from Mystery Matchmaker. Since I’ve started talking to C. Grizwold I decided to turn off the private message feature to anyone else. I don’t want to continue to be inundated with dick pics or guys trying to see if I’m available. I found a good one and I’m sticking to it.
C.Grizwold: What you up to tonight?
Me: Doing some research for work. A pretty exciting night, huh?
C.Grizwold: Are you a scientist?
I immediately laugh out loud at his question. I realize we don’t know each other that well since we haven’t really shared anything about our jobs with each other, but a scientist? He has no idea how off he is.
Me: Fuck no. Not even close. What are you up to tonight?
C.Grizwold: Not much. I stayed late at work and am just now getting home.
Me: A workaholic, huh? Sometimes I feel like all I have out here is my job. I moved from the east coast a while back and still haven’t really found my people.
This is the most personal I’ve gotten with him and something about it feels weird, like I shouldn’t be sharing it with him. But, if we ever want to take this thing beyond the safety and anonymity of the Internet, I guess we need to start sharing.
C.Grizwold: Yeah, I hear you. I feel like all I really do is work too. I was in a long-term relationship, but it didn’t work out because of my job. She wasn’t interested in staying in the area and I know I don’t want to leave.
Me: How long-term?
