Under Summer Sky • Zarry

9. Two can play this game

"How am I trouble?" I had asked him afterward, to which he replied:

"You just are, believe me."

I didn't quite understand what he meant by that exactly, and in my honest opinion I thought he was just as troublesome as I was, but I didn't bother asking him to elaborate on it. Instead I was relishing in the fact that I had won him over in my mind. And whatever it was that had caused Zayn to run from me the night before was seemingly no longer in the way, apparently, and my first experience with a guy was one for the books; one I'd definitely never ever forget.

And my desire to be with women felt more distant.

And it didn't end there, either. It happened again with Zayn later that night when I was trying to sleep. He was outside the guest house throwing tiny pebbles at my bedroom window at four in the morning, stoned and in his Spider-Man pajamas. I had lifted up the window and laughed seeing him like that, and he climbed through it. Immediately Zayn had me down hard on the bed, planting wet kisses all over my sleepy body and we sucked each other off one more time before he crept back inside the house to his bedroom.

Zayn was of the mindset that Gio didn't know about him because he hadn't exactly told him about his sexuality, and therefore he didn't want it getting out, so he made me swear that we would keep it private so he made me leave his room in the middle of the night to avoid suspicion.

I agreed to it, sort of finding it to be much more exciting that way. Also, I barely got enough sleep before work in the morning, which was already becoming a common theme for me that summer.

Tired eyes were the death of me.

I went off to work in long jean shorts with the hems rolled up and a plain white t-shirt with aviators on to cover the subtle purple tinge under my eyes from sleeplessness, hopping myself up on four espresso shots to snap into it. I spent all morning gathering barrels full of ripe green grapes, lifting them into the back of Gio's truck one by one with one of the guys who worked on the vineyard line, Alessio, and he barely spoke any English but I liked him; he was polite and worked hard.

Looking down at my arms as they flexed, I noticed that they were getting much more jacked from all the heavy, physical labor I was doing. And apparently Zayn noticed it as well, because he then appeared behind me with Marco out of nowhere driving the golf cart in the late morning. He proceeded to stop the cart and jumped out, moving by me before grabbing the truck keys out of my back pocket. He paused briefly and clutched onto my bicep, squeezing firmly.

"Getting a good work out," he commented.

I smirked in response as he made his way toward the driver's seat of the truck and slid in, starting it up. "Who needs a gym, right?" I asked Zayn as he leaned out of the window.

"Not you, and especially not if you can get in some late night cardio," he insinuated, but I knew he didn't mean going out for a run, which made me blush slightly.

"So...why are you stealing the truck?" I asked upon finally realizing what he was doing.

"You're gonna go with Marco down to the wine cellar. He wants your help with the new batch," Zayn explained, motioning over to Marco who was now standing behind me, a hand resting on my shoulder.

Soon after Marco had me down in the cellar where the rows and rows of various oak barrels sat aging for many long months. It was probably my favorite part of the winery, actually. Other than location and grape type, I always thought it was interesting how they developed the wines with all of their different hints of flavors and aromas. They came from aroma compounds, or stereoisomers, which were released during fermentation, in addition to the wine soaking in the toasted oak itself. This particular one had been aging for six months and the flavor was super robust and smokey.