I'm slightly tipsy and these are short chapters so... I'm feeling generous!! Do enjoy (:

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Pierre is actually hilarious. And he knows a lot about wine and vineyards. Mostly, it's him talking, translating whatever the tour guide is saying into words I can actually understand and I learn a lot about all the different types of grapes they use here and the method of brewing they use for each type of wine, how it affects the flavour. I actually write down some of the words he uses to describe the wines in my notebook. There's no way I'll be able to remember them later. Pierre teases me about it but not in a mean way. He's very sweet about it.

Wherever we walk though, my body seems to know instinctively where Taylor is. I can feel her when she's walking behind us and when she stops to look closer inside a barrel. On more than one occasion, I turn around only to find her already watching me or she turns around to find me watching her. We make sure to keep a good distance between us. We don't acknowledge each other's presence. It's better this way.

And yet, I'm on edge the whole time. I know without her, I would be having a much better time but I can barely enjoy myself when all I can think about is whether or not she's staring at me and what it is that she's whispering in her boyfriend's ear.

"Aurora," Pierre exclaims, waving his hand in front of my face. I jump in surprise and peel my eyes away, blinking up at him. Pierre laughs, placing his hands in the pockets of his pants. "I just said they put cockroaches in this wine to make it more acidic and you said that's lovely."

I look away, blushing in embarrassment. "God, sorry. I— I got a little distracted."

He nods understandingly. "So, is it the blond guy or his blonde girlfriend that we hate?"

I chuckle, shaking my head. "We don't hate either of them."

"Okay, we don't hate them. Which one of them are we trying to make jealous though?"

He's amused by the whole situation.

"We're not trying to make them jealous. I just didn't want to look like a loser on a couples' tour, on my own," I explain, adjusting my glasses.

"I came on my own too," he chuckles, tilting his head toward his left shoulder. "And you're here to learn because you're writing a book. There's nothing loser about that."

I look over his shoulder at Taylor. She's in the middle of saying something to Joe but her eyes are on me the whole time. "She doesn't know that."

"Ah. So, it's her." He nods, rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger. "Why do you care what she thinks?"

"I don't."

He smiles. We both know it isn't true, but he doesn't say anything. Pierre is a really nice guy,

"She looks familiar, actually," he points out instead. "Is she on TV?"

"You don't recognise her?" I ask him, taken by surprise.

"Should I?" He asks, shrugging nonchalantly. "My husband actually makes fun of me because I don't really know anyone remotely famous."

"Mhm, that sounds nice," I chuckle. "Yeah, I guess she's been on TV."

He hums in response and then shrugs. "That makes sense. So, what did she do? Dump you? Cheat on you? Lie to you? Steal your crush? Steal your pet? Murder your entire family?"

I crack a smile and shake my head. "None of that, no. We used to be best friends. Like, in high school. Then, we had this big fight and we haven't talked since. And now, suddenly, we're in the same city and anywhere I go, she's there with her boyfriend. It's kind of annoying. I'm just trying to have some time for myself."

"Some time for yourself? Oh, do you want me to go, then? Because I can go..." Pierre says, smiling widely. He's obviously teasing.

I roll my eyes. "No, I need you to tell me more about grapes and fermentation. It's very sexy talk."

"Oh! Wait until you hear all about how they bottle the wine," he plays along and I can't help it. I burst out laughing. I actually really like Pierre.

As I turn around so we can continue walking, I catch Taylor watching me. I wouldn't be surprised if she's glaring at me behind those sunglasses she's wearing. My lips twitch upward in a smile that's not exactly pleasant or friendly.

When the tour of the estate is over, we're led into a little dining area where we're going to be presented with different kinds of wine and foods they supposedly pair well with. Pierre and I sit at a table for four with another couple, though they don't acknowledge us at all. They're clearly newlyweds, too engrossed in each other to bother with anyone else.

"You know, I'm not sure how you did it," I say, taking a bite of the cheesy amuse-bouche on the plate before us. "But I don't usually make friends this easily."

Pierre chuckles as he swirls the wine in his glass. "I'll take that as a compliment."

He motions for me to pick up my own drink and copy his moves. I feel ridiculous doing so, especially when he starts sniffing the wine.

"It smells like wine," I tell him, making him laugh harder. "Definitely not grape juice."

"You're correct, yes. It smells a little flowery, doesn't it?" He says, taking another sniff.

I try to see what he means but honestly, it just smells like wine to me. Sharp, acidic, and a little tangy. It's nice. But I can't smell those flowers he's talking about.

"Okay, just taste it," he tells me. "Sip, don't chug."

"Thank you. I was definitely going to chug this entire glass of wine," I respond drily. It takes him a second to realise I'm being sarcastic. When he does, he just shakes his head and takes a sip from his wine. I follow his lead, and all I can honestly say is that it tastes like good wine. I know it's better than most of the cheap wine I usually buy but I can't exactly tell you why.

Thankfully, Pierre can. He describes, in great detail, every single thing he can smell and taste in every single glass of wine he's handed and I write everything down. He even repeats things and enunciates when I need him to.

"So, what's the plot of your story?" He asks me eventually. This time, we're offered a platter of fruit. I spend more time picking at the berries than tasting the wine.

"I know that it's going to be a romantic comedy because that's all I write. That's pretty much all I have so far," I admit. "And that the main character is going to take a trip to a nice Italian town with lots of nice beaches and friendly guys who offer to teach her all about wine."

"Hmm, I expect full credit for the inspiration," he says jokingly, but I'm not.

"Oh, for sure. You're going to be that side character that actually brings the whole story together," I tell him. "Full credit, my friend."

Pierre finds that amusing. "I'll be waiting for a signed copy of the novel whenever it is released, then."

"You got it," I promise with a little smile. "If I ever finish it."

"You have like ten whole pages of notes about wine alone. You can write a whole book. I believe in you!"

"Thank you, Pierre," I say softly.

I'm actually starting to enjoy myself now. I'm pleasantly buzzed from all the wine we've had and the food's been great. Pierre's telling me a story about him and his husband Jean and their disastrous weekend that ended up with Jean's foot put in a cast. All the way in the other corner of the room, I see Taylor push her chair back. Joe stands up as well, holding her hand but she pulls back and holds her hand against his chest.

"Enough. You're drunk."

She didn't speak too loud. No one even batted an eyelash or looked their way. But I heard her anyway.

She storms off, disappearing outside while her boyfriend just stumbles back into his seat. Instead of going after her to apologise, he just grabs his glass of wine.

It doesn't sit right with me.

"Hey, I'll be right back," I murmur to Pierre, grabbing my bag. "I'm gonna head to the girl's room."

"You can be honest, I won't judge you," he says with a small chuckle. "You're going to make sure she's okay?"

"Someone has to."

I walk out the same way she did, trying to find her. I try the bathrooms first but they're empty so I make my way outside. There's a small backyard behind the building we were in and I find Taylor on a three-seater swing with a striped cushion in white and green. She looks up when she hears my footsteps, and I won't lie, the disappointment in her expression stings but I get it. She was expecting her boyfriend and not the person she thinks hates her most in the world.

"If you're looking for the bathrooms, they're inside just past the entrance," she mentions, staring ahead at the massive field of grape vines.

"I'm good, thank you," I respond, taking another step toward her.

Her eyes are watery but she's refusing to let those tears shed. She does sniffle though and looks around for her purse only to realise that she's left it inside.

I pull a travel-sized pack of tissues from my tote and hold it out to her. "Kleenex?"

"I'm fine."

I keep my hand extended until she relents and takes a tissue, dabbing it lightly under her nose.

"Thanks," she mumbles, still refusing to look me in the eyes.

I nod while slipping the tissues back into my bag. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Taylor shrugs. "You can do whatever you want, Aurora."

I point at the empty spot next to her on the swing. "So, you wouldn't mind if I sat there for a second?"

She shrugs again, moving so that her left side is touching the rusty metal chains holding the swing up. I breathe out a laugh, sitting on the opposite end. Though it's only a three-seater, you could probably squeeze in two more people between us.

"Why did you follow me outside?"

"Just came out here for some fresh air. I think I had a little too much wine," I say, watching a bee zip past us. Taylor remains quiet, balling the tissue in her hand. "You okay?"

She nods. "Is he still in there?"

"I think so. He just sat back down when you left."

Taylor lets out a bitter laugh as she crosses her arms protectively around herself. I start moving my feet so that we're slowly swinging back and forth.

"Men can be such idiots sometimes!" She mutters, slumping backwards.

"In my personal experience, they're idiots more often than not," I chime, earning a laugh from her.

"Tell me about it," Taylor sighs, brushing her fingers through her hair. "The guy you're with. Is he an idiot?"

I smile lightly and shrug. "Probably."

She smiles back though it never quite reaches her eyes. I don't have to think hard to remember the way her whole face would light up when she would laugh, eyes squinting and nose scrunched.

"You don't have to sit here with me, honestly. I'm fine. I just need to clear my head," she says, sniffling again softly. "And it's like you said last night. There's no use pretending."

I nod understandingly and stand up. I know when my company's not wanted.

"All right. I guess, I'll see you around," I chuckle. At this point, I'm sure we're going to be running into each other again tomorrow. It seems to be the pattern repeating here. Who am I to fight it, really?

Taylor stops me before I could leave though. "Hey, Rory?"

I turn to her, waiting for her to continue. "Yeah, Taylor?"

"You know, I stopped by your place. The next morning, I mean," she says quietly. "To apologise. Your roommate said you weren't there."

"I know," I reply. I was in my room, she knew that. I knew that she knew that.

"I was so sorry— I am sorry for what I said. For everything that happened that night. I said some things... I immediately wished I could take it all back."

I breathe out a chuckle and shake my head. "Yeah, but you can't take any of it back, can you?"

"No," she whispers, dropping her gaze to the ground.

"I'm sorry I let it happen in the first place," I murmur.

Taylor still doesn't look at me. She sits there glaring at her shoes, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"Don't worry. I also regretted everything that happened that night," I tell her before walking away.

"I don't regret everything that happened, Rory," she stops me. "Only the things I said afterwards."

"Doesn't really matter anymore, Taylor," I say and continue walking.

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