That Summer Feeling: SUMMER 4EVER [H.S.]

34. Grape Juice Blues

Two whites, three reds, and two pink wines later, I've concluded that I'm a true rosé girl to the core. There's just something gratifying about consuming a drink that is the color of a summer sunset, with the right amount of sweetness and bitterness, and makes you feel like you're swimming in a pool of flowers. It's also way less of a chore to get drunk on it than it is with red and white wine, especially if it's blended with ice. That's why I'm on my third frozen rosé of the day.

I've never cared for wine in the way I've seen most adults in my life. I'm still growing up and becoming into my own but I feel like I have some sort of loyalty due to the drink simply because I'm a "young adult." Most times I don't know what to do with the glass I'm handed full of the fermented grapes. It often has a weird, strong aftertaste that I can't seem to get three sips past and I have an irrational fear that even just one gulp will permanently stain my teeth a shade of deep red.

I think I had a higher tolerance for it last summer because everything felt so new and exciting but still, I rarely finish it all. It's just never as fun to drink wine as it is to drink an elaborate cocktail.

The few times I've consumed wine and truly liked it was because I was already drunk off of something else or there was other shit mixed in it— nothing will beat the traditional sangria I had in Spain. Also making the short list of Wines I Approve of That Don't Taste Like Shit are the ones Harry and I tasted at dinner the other night, but I could be a tad biased about those.

I've also never been to a winery and been in the presence of vineyards or with experts that have taught me a few things about it. Today has raised my level of respect for wine. I must say, Gigi's birthday gift to Beau was genius. Spending an afternoon with all my closest friends, sitting underneath the shade and surrounded by a beautiful garden while trying something new in an unexplored town and simultaneously getting tipsy is the cherry kisses of this summer.

Here's another fun thing I've concluded in the span of an afternoon: men will do the vilest, shitty, disgusting thing and come up with new ways to victimize themselves in the situation to try to make themselves look good. The cheating kind anyway.

Not Harry. No, Harry is perfection like this rosé wine. I'm tempted to take the entire bottle and a couple more home.

I'm also extremely tempted to whisk Harry away into those vineyards across from us and taste his wine.

...Too far?

Whatever. Did I mention I'm like, five, maybe seven wine glasses deep total and it's not even 4 pm yet? Granted, I didn't finish half of them and only tasted them but still, those fermented grapes are no joke.

Anyway, back to Harry. I feel like I need to chain myself to this chair so I don't give in to the urge and crawl across the table to get to him. He looks ridiculously good today. It might be the wines taking effect on me combined with the gorgeous summer scenery but there's just something in the air today. All he's doing is leaning back in his chair casually as he sips his wine and I want to rip my hair out.

His curls seem so fluffy and soft today floating in the light breeze. His pretty green eyes are sadly blocked by his sunglasses but you can still feel the lingering burn of his gaze if he does you the honor of looking your way. He's wearing the white checkered flannel and brown corduroy shorts I picked out for him this morning. I want to sink my teeth into him every time I look at him and recall the smile he gifted me after he looked at his reflection and approved of my choices with a sweet kiss on my lips. He's so dreamy, I want to cry.

"Jerry, you're the only guy I know whose name starts with a J and isn't a total fucking loser." Beau raises his glass to him and dedicates his drink to him.