Page 5 of Meet Me in the Vines
My pep talks to myself aren’t as wise as Gran’s, but it’s enough for me to get my ass out the door.
Chapter Two
DONOVAN
The soft warm hue of the string lights above me cast a glow over the bustling party. Every direction I look, it’s a classmate, a friend, folks from Oakwood Valley. A true sight to be seen. As I watch my friends dance with their hands swaying freely in the air, I exhale the most relieving of breaths. High school is over, and this summer is for me.
I pace slowly on the outskirts of the commotion, chuckling under my breath at my soccer teammates jumping up and down to an upbeat song with their arms around each other, howling into the night. Absolute barbarians. I love it.
My eyes shift to a table nearby that houses every school photo of me since kindergarten. Definitely my mother’s doing. I pick up the picture of a five-year-old me, all gap-toothed and cheesing so hard my eyes are nearly closed. I laugh, my heart warming at how much I look like my little brothers in these younger photos. As if on cue, the little hellions appear in my periphery, swiping bits of my graduation cake with their mischievous grins—no doubt hiding from my parents.
I sneak my way over, light on my toes like a ninja ready to strike. I bite my lip to stifle a laugh as I reach my hands forward, gripping their shoulders with force. “Boo!”
“Ahhh!” they shout in unison. Their faces turn as white as the frosting on their fingers. Their shoulders relax when they realize their apprehender is me and a hearty laugh breaks out between us. I pull them in for a group hug, kissing the tops of their heads.
“You’re lucky I’m the one who caught you eating my cake before Mom or Dad,” I scold playfully, squeezing them both tight to me. They beam their wide, brace-faced smiles as I lean forward and swipe my finger through the cake, stealing a taste just as they did.
“Now, if you boys get in trouble, we all will. But Mom can’t be mad at the graduate,” I tease, ruffling their hair in my hands. My eyes flit back and forth between them, my best buds, my little brothers. Wyatt, the middle child, looks to me like I’ve hung the moon. Although he’s fourteen, I still see him as the little kid who followed me everywhere. Then there’s Kerry, the baby of the family. Our sunshine boy, always full of light and mischief. At eleven, he’s a talented artist, always doodling and taking pictures on the digital camera my parents got him for Christmas last year.
Damn, I’m really gonna miss them when I leave at the end of the summer. I lean down once more, kissing their cheeks. “Go on, get out of here. I’ll see you two in a bit. Love you boys.”
“Love you boys,” Wyatt beams.
“Love you boys,” Kerry follows.
Love you boys.
Those words seal our brotherly bond.
Warmth spreads throughout my heart as I watch my little brothers disappear into the party. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. I’ll take care of those two for as long as I breathe. I promisedhimI would. My chest squeezes as the memories of my big brother overtake me. Before I can sit in the moment, a firm clap on my shoulder makes me wince.
“Donovan! Congratulations on graduating, son.” Frank Bozer has a deep, boisterous voice that you can hear from a mile away. Frank is the wine tasting manager at Audrey’s family winery. Matter of fact, where is she? I glance over Frank’s shoulder briefly to see if I can spot a beautiful head of strawberry hair. Frank clears his throat.
I bring my gaze back to him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders for a giant bear hug. “Thank you, Mr. Bozer. It’s greatly appreciated.” His collar smells of sweet grapes and rich soil. Just like home.
“Now, I have known you since you were just a spring chicken,” Frank boasts. “I hope you’re proud of your accomplishments leading up to this day, my boy. Your father told me you got All-State and MVP for OV High. Is that right?” I get embarrassed when my father brags about me, but I suppose it’s his way of showing affection—if he even knows the meaning.
I clear my throat before I respond, putting my hands in my pockets and rocking back and forth from my heels to my toes. “Yes, sir. I was proud to help lead our team to state this year,” I say.
“Andwin. Can’t forget that detail, my boy,” Frank adds. He winks and slaps my shoulder. My eyes beam with pride, remembering the sweet memory of the entire team holding up the state trophy, pouring Gatorade all over each other.
“You deserve that full ride to UC Davis, son. You make us all proud here in Oakwood Valley. I hope you know that,” he gushes.
“I do, Mr. Bozer. I won’t let you down.” Frank shines his big smile and pulls me in again for a hug. Amazing how this man has shown me more affection in two minutes than my dad has in eighteen years. My father is charismatic and personable to everyone around him, apart from his own son.
Frank releases me as my father approaches.
“You know Frank, we knew this boy was talented in the sport since he was in diapers. But he’s gotta keep at least a 3.7 GPA to keep playing soccer in college. He’s got a big future here at the vineyard that he has to focus on,” my dad says as the tension in my shoulders heighten. “That’s more important than kicking a ball around. Isn’t that right, Donovan?” My dad clamps a firm hand on my shoulder, revealing his showman smile to Frank. Leave it to Caleb King to rain on my parade.
“Well, Caleb, you’ve got a remarkable boy here. I’m sure he’ll do just fine. Lighten up, will ya? Let the boy enjoy his night,” he says with a soft smile. Frank always knows how to get my dad to chill out. “Let’s get a beer then, Frank. Son, enjoy your party,” my dad says flatly. Frank puts his arm around my father and whisks him away to the bar. Thank god.
My parents went all out. You’d think it was a wedding with all the catering, wait staff, and live music. They’ve got a knack for entertaining. I’ll give them that. I grew up with my house being the main place of gathering for extravagant parties.
The music, the lights, the energy of this party? It’s all absorbing into my skin, getting me amped up to ask out the perfect girl. My ultimate dream girl. If she shows, that is. It’s already half past seven and I’ve yet to see Audrey.
My patience for socializing is running low. There are only so many monotonous conversations I can have when I only want to talk to her. Did I tell her what time to come tonight? I swear I did. I replay our interaction from earlier in my head, sifting through our conversation. God, she’s pretty.
Focus, Donovan.
