Chapter Twenty-Eight
DAN
After a forty-five-minute drive on the shuttle bus, we reach a quaint country winery nestled among the rolling hills of the Sunshine Coast hinterland. The vineyard is only open to the public on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, but it’s opened today exclusively for the media tour.
As we hop off the bus, our media group of fifteen is greeted with glasses of champagne held on trays by two waiters wearing white collared shirts. They remembered my dietaries, I find out, as there’s one white wine sitting amongst the rest. Off to a promising start.
The main building, a rustic white Queenslander with a wrap-around veranda, overlooks the sprawling vines and distant mountains.
Wooden beams and stone accents fill the interiors, as do wine barrels, which are dotted around the tasting room.
Lunch, however, won’t be inside the main building.
Lunch is at a long white table outside, nestled between the grapevines, picturesque countryside views at each end of the table.
The first course is small entrée snack food: olives, crusty bread, ramekins of leek and garlic dip.
I get my own ramekin, with just leek dip, no garlic, which has me feeling equal parts nuisance and taken care of.
Our waitress, who sports a strong French accent, walks around the table pouring a white wine into our fresh glasses.
The second wine tasted today, paired with our second course of food, which is the kingfish ceviche.
The riesling is the vineyard’s most popular wine, we’re told, with orchard fruit notes of nectarine, peach, and honey-crisp apple. The media group – myself included – all have their phones out as our glasses are poured. Are we ever solely in the moment anymore?
The notes of the riesling are similar to what the sommelier has told us. Mostly, though, I’m just tasting a smooth, fruity wine.
‘Oh wow, that kingfish is delicious,’ Kallen says after a mouthful.
‘About as delicious as the stars last night, right, Dan?’ Shannon winks at me. ‘You guys should’ve heard him when we were walking on the beach last night. Oh, those stars are just delicious, aren’t they?’
I spot Kallen rolling his eyes across the table, which seems like a weird reaction to Shannon talking about stars.
A chuckle escapes me. ‘Look, drunk me just finds non-edible objects slightly tasty, okay?’
‘To be honest, you weren’t wrong,’ she says, swirling the wine in her glass. ‘The stars did look pretty delicious last night.’
Kallen stands from the table and leaves with a soft, ‘excuse me.’ My gaze follows him walking away as Shannon starts complaining about the latest Instagram bug that removed all the text on her scheduled videos for the week .
I soon realise I need to go to the bathroom, so I, too, excuse myself.
The bathroom is on the other side of the main building, near the main cellar door.
Once I enter the building, though, I’m met with a pang in my forehead as it collides with another forehead. Kallen’s forehead, who’s standing right outside the bathroom.
‘Fuck,’ he cusses.
‘Oww, shit,’ I groan. ‘Sorry.’
The throbbing subsides to a soft ache.
‘Are you okay?’ I enquire.
‘Yeah, that ceviche just went straight through me,’ he says, waggling his eyebrows.
‘You sure?’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, sure.’
‘Doesn’t seem like you’re okay. Anyway, there’s something I want to talk about with you. And I don’t think I can keep it in any longer.’
He looks away. ‘About you hooking up with Shannon Patsy?’
I furrow my brow. ‘What? No. She’s a cool chick, but no. I’m very gay.’
‘Seems like you two have been getting super friendly and flirty with one another. I shouldn’t have assumed, but I did. So yeah.’
This makes my eyes narrow. ‘Um, excuse me, but just because I’m friendly with someone doesn’t mean I’m flirting with them. And you wanna know something that might put things into perspective for you? ’
‘Sure.’
‘You have a best friend you can tell everything to,’ I say, flutters building in my stomach.
‘I don’t. My friends in Brisbane are my friends, but they’re not like super close friends.
I just met them. I’m not the first person they think of when they need something.
Hell, I feel pretty lonely sometimes when it comes to that.
So when I connected with Shannon last night, it felt good to have a friendly chat. ’
His eyes are filled with a sudden regret. ‘Okay, yeah, fine,’ he says, calming down. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I feel connected with you too,’ I then say.
‘But in a different way. That’s kind of what I need to tell you, actually.
I need to get it off my chest.’ I pause for no other reason than to catch my breath.
‘And I know we’re at a winery and I should just talk to you about it when we’re back at the hotel, but fuck… ’
He purses his lips. ‘What is it?’
‘Uh…about the other night. When we kissed. I was going to talk to you about it in the car, but I couldn’t find the words. So now here I am, finding it a hell of a lot easier after a few wines.’
‘It’ll do it to you,’ he jests, jamming his hands into his armpits.
‘Okay…I’m just gonna put everything on the table,’ I let free. ‘I like you…and I wish it could’ve been me to take you on a date instead of Hudson in the first place.’
‘Dan, no,’ he tries to stop me.
But I keep going. ‘To be honest, I’ve been kind of jealous the whole time you were dating him.’
‘Dan, we’re fucking coworkers,’ Kallen whispers, avoiding my gaze. ‘And the whole thing with Christian… ’
I move forward. ‘I know. And it scares the heck out of me. But it’s also something that I can’t…’
Before I can finish my sentence, an urge jolts through me. But before I can relieve that urge, Kallen throws himself at me, his lips crashing into mine.
His tongue wanders into my mouth as he pushes me against the brickwork.
We’re both huffing as our lips stay locked, equal measures of naturality and pent-up tension mixing their fighting forces inside us.
I completely surrender, my arms finding a place around his cheeks, but notably more relaxed now, not in a panic like they were at the Pride party.
Once he pulls away, he and I open our eyes at the same time, giving each other a knowing look of finally. Right now, we’re not on a work trip. We’re at a winery together, by choice, sampling the local drops paired with a degustation – when we’re not making out in secret by the bathroom, that is.
‘What a relief,’ I say.
He ‘hmmm’s in response.
‘Been wanting to do again that ever since Pride,’ I admit.
‘Do what?’ he plays.
My mouth hooks into a smile. ‘You’re silly.’
‘I may have been wanting to do that too, just quietly,’ he gives in. ‘Might just be the thrill of doing something we’re not meant to.’
I ponder our actions for a short beat, then s ay, ‘I already want to do it again.’
He gently stops me from moving closer, from rubbing my body against his. ‘Or we could wait until we’re back at the hotel,’ he suggests. ‘Now that we’ve already met media friends, the wrong person finding out about this could be…awkward. And you know how close all of the competing companies are.’
I roll my eyes. ‘You’re right. Gotta keep things somewhat professional.’
And so, we walk away from the bathroom, back to our lunch table like nothing has happened. No one’s wrong in saying that wine goes straight to your head. It makes you loud at a lunch table. It also encourages actions like kissing your coworkers.