The Academy

Epilogue

[ TWO MONTHS LATER ]

MY FINGERS GRIP the stem of the wine glass, tipping it to my mouth, letting the liquid run down my throat. The Italian sun beams down on my already tan face, evidence of having been here for nearly two weeks.

"So, " Dad breaks me from my reverie, his Italian accent more prominent from being back in his homeland, "what do you think?" He nods to the small glass of white wine, which he brought out from my grandparents' wine cellar earlier for me to try.

It's sort of our thing, that whenever we've visited my grandparents, Dad will grab a random bottle of wine, whether that be white, red, or rosé, and pour me a glass. The aim of the game is for me to guess what kind of wine it is, e.g. pinot noir, merlot, etc.

And let me just make something clear; I've never lost.

This year, he's chosen a light, white wine. But it could be anything; chardonnay, pinot grigio, sauvignon blanc. So, I test the flavor on my tongue, smacking my lips together, trying to keep the sweet, but bitter, taste in my mouth so I can make an accurate guess.

"It's good," I nod to myself, before tipping the glass back again to have another sip, slapping my lips together a second time. "Smooth." Dad nods, urging me on.

The distant smell of jasmine fills my nose as I unintentionally sniff the sweet liquid. Is that orange? Maybe tangerine?

"Kinda tastes a bit fruity," I tell him.

"Just tell me what you think it is," Dad prompts, "I know you've already got something in your head."

He's right. I do have somewhat of an idea of what it could be. However, if I get this wrong, I have to do everyone's laundry for the rest of the summer. And if I win, he has to. So, there's a lot on the line right now.

I hear a small snort come from beside me. Turning my head, I look into the eyes of the boy I'm supposed to love, but right now, he's annoying me. "What?"

He opens his mouth to say something before shaking his head, chuckling to himself once more. I look to Dad, who's now smiling at the amused boy.

Ever since I forced them to get to know each other, they've not disagreed once. And now I blame myself for forming this infuriating duo.

"No, seriously. What?" I prompt Vaughn further, leaning back in my chair.

"I just find it funny how mature you sound whenever you two talk about wine," the corner of his mouth turns up in the way it always does when he's amused about something.