Submerged

Wine and Nature

The fourth bottle of wine had probably been a mistake. 

The fifth one was open, Jeff filled her glass-really just a plastic cup because who brings real wine glasses kayaking?

They were telling secrets now.

Jeff still had his shirt off even though it had chilled considerably once the sun went down. She appreciated his abs. No way they were just from kayaking. She was going to ask what workout,  but…

“...and because no one else I knew ate pears, I assumed that everyone peeled them with a potato peeler like my granddad. I didn’t expect a silly argument like that to escalate…”

Jeff trailed off. 

Kelly thought he was talking about the end of his first marriage, but kind of lost track.

She knew it was her turn.

They had only worked together a few weeks. Did she owe him a good secret?

The words in her head were forming, the momentum behind them some fermented Tulum Valley grapes.

“I knew my family wasn’t normal,” she said, “but I tore it apart for the dumbest reason.”

Jeff leaned in. His eyes were the color of a fighter jet. 

Kelly sipped the wine, more as a delay than needing more wine. 

Why did he invite me?

Her story tumbled out, tripping over itself.