Grapes Upside Down

23. Vino

~Madisen~

"Madisen, you have a visitor!" Daniela calls in husky Spanish singsong, pushing open my bedroom door, which I've carelessly forgotten to shut all the way before changing.

I've barely slipped on my swimsuit top when in walks Noah, holding a shimmery gold and silver gift bag.

Blood rushes from my chest up my neck, invading my cheeks like a vicious allergic reaction, as I desperately hold the ties taut at the back in an effort to avoid exposing myself. The whole situation is made more uncomfortable by the fact that the scene is being reflected back to us in a giant mirror that spans practically the entire length and width of the bedroom. My breasts are spilling out from the untied bikini top, and I feel supremely embarrassed as Noah's eyes flick to them in the mirror.

He has gone wine-red as well, now shuffling his feet and staring at the floor.

"¡Woah, chica! Lo siento. Te ayudo." Daniela offers to lend me a hand, swooping behind me to tie a knot. "¿A menos que Noah quiera?"

I catch her in the full-length mirror as she saucily bounces her eyebrows towards Noah, asking him if he wants to help me instead.

"Oh, fuck off," Noah mutters, and I love him in this moment for breaking the tension.

"Alrighty roo! I'll leave you guys to it," clips Daniela, having completed a tight bow at the back of my neck with expert efficiency. Take-charge friends like her are an absolute blessing to introverts.

Noah pads forward with hesitancy when Daniela leaves the room, still maintaining ample distance.

Things feel as though they've shifted, again, between us. Our closeness has been slowly ripening over the past two months like sweet-hot grapes in the sun, now set to burst with every one of our recent interactions, the thin skin veiling our insides about to split open.

The memory of my stumble home from the costume party last night is hazy, but I might have hinted something to Noah about my feelings. I don't recall exactly what I said or whether it was at all intelligible. After the way he danced Reggaeton with me, I was certain he was going to kiss me when we got to my room.

Noah is a Grade A gentleman, however, and I'm grateful that he merely tucked me in and left.

"Feliz cumpleaños." His voice now is shy and raspy, gentle jazzy tenor sax notes, as he extends the shimmering gift my direction.

I'm dying to throw a sundress on to cover myself, but somehow putting a garment on in front of Noah would feel even more uncomfortable in this moment, so I'm forced to approach him half-naked to receive the birthday present.

The sensation of his finger tapping against mine as he hands me the bag rushes my stomach with warmth, and I forget all about my self-consciousness as I remove a gorgeous, handmade scarf from the bag. It's patterned with earthy tones of purples, pinks and blues, embellished with silvery thread throughout.

"¡Me encanta!"

Noah cracks his subdued smile, the one I know he's tamping down, because his glittery sea-green eyes betray his true excitement.

"Feliz cumpleaños, Madicita," he repeats with tenderness.

"Gracias, Noacito."

I move to hug him, but he tenses, saying "uhhh..." as if I'm about to do something highly unexpected. This stops me in my tracks.

"You don't want me to hug you?" I ask, more baffled than offended.

"I do," he returns immediately. "It's just... the bikini is doing weird things to me." The words filter out static and hoarse, as though emitting from a radio with shoddy reception. His face is no longer pink; it's more of a general sun-toasted shade, which extends down his neck.