Between the Vines

This is my entry for the 2022 Summer Lovin' contest.

Between the vines

She's got her eye on the younger brother

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Chloe's POV

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There's not much room in the back of a French taxi - or at least not this one. Rattling along a bumpy road with your knees wedged in your eye sockets is not fun, especially in this heat. We've got our suitcases in the back and two big rucksacks wedged between us. There's just no comfortable way for me to sit. And the driver isn't helping. We're going far too fast. It's as if he's driving into every pothole on purpose.

I know a lot of guys will scoff when I say I'm six foot. But seriously, that's tall for a girl. I hate being this size. I look utterly ridiculous - long legs, no hips, flat chest. I'm like an eleven-year-old on stilts. Every photo with my friends is the same - a row of petite nymphs in the front, with the giantess looming behind like some genetic experiment gone wrong.

But long legs means good at sport, right? No. Definitely not. I'm the most badly coordinated person I know. I'm always falling over, knocking my teammates out or kicking them in the face. If I get the ball in hockey, it's been taken off me before I've worked out what to do with it. High heels? No way. And I can never find clothes that fit.

You can just imagine my track record with boys. Most of them think I'm some giant freak. Sometimes they make eye contact, give me a fake smile and rapidly look away. If they do make a pass, it's because they've made a bet with their mates; I'll see them sniggering in the corner before they swagger over. Even the tall ones aren't interested; they're too busy craning down to stare at Emma's cleavage. No one even looks at me, if she's put the Himalayas on display.

Oh yes, that's Emma by the way - sitting next to me. She's the reason I'm here. We've been school friends for the past seven years and now we're out here on holiday.

Emma has a boyfriend. Lucky old her. There's just one problem - her parents don't know. She's afraid to tell them, because, well, Will is quite a bit older than her. They met nine months or so ago and they've been dating for over six. She's 18 and he's 21 - almost 22. He's just completed his final year at university and she's just finished high school. And I know three years is nothing when you're in your thirties, but when you're still a teenager, seriously - that's a really big age gap.

So, yes, Will. What can I tell you about Will? His parents live out here - in the south of France. His dad made a ton of money in London apparently, retired at forty, bought a vineyard and set up a hotel here. I'm not sure hotel is the right word. It's sort of an artists' retreat, but a very pricey one. It's a guesthouse for posh arty types - that how Will describes it. They run courses and that sort of thing here. If Emma and I were paying anything like the full rate, we'd have used up three years of student loans before we even set foot at university. And that brings me to the second deception. Will's parents aren't going to be here. They're away, back in the UK. They don't know we're coming either. They don't know that two of their guests are here for a fifth of the price.

Emma's off to art college next month. She's convinced her parents she simply has to practise painting landscapes in the south of France before she starts. And you've probably guessed what I'm doing here. Emma's only been allowed to come because I'm with her. I'm the boring, sensible friend. I'm the dead weight who'll keep her in check.

To be honest, I'm a bit surprised that Emma's mum and dad bought the whole "art course" thing. She's the kind of artist who can't express herself unless she's got a canvas at least six feet tall and a paintbrush two inches wide. Delicate watercolours of grapes and vines are definitely not her thing. Maybe they suspect something's up. Or maybe they've convinced themselves that Emma's reformed. Perhaps they're right; in a funny way she has grown up a bit since meeting Will, but maybe that's just the pressure of exams at the end of the school year.

And me? Officially I'm here to practise my French and maybe get a suntan. I've told my Dad that there won't be any boys out here. And that we definitely won't be going to any clubs in St Tropez. And I'm blonde, so I don't really tan, I just burn. So, if I do go to the beach, it'll only be for an hour.

But there will be boys here, well one boy in particular. And I'm not talking about Will. You see, he's got a younger brother. He's called Pierre - and he's hot. Very hot indeed.

As soon as I saw his picture on the hotel website, I was smitten. I've got it stored on my phone - a nice welcoming photo of the owners, their sons and the obligatory dog. I'd guess it was taken a few years ago; Pierre looks about sixteen in that photo. But I fell for him in an instant. His dark hair, deep brown eyes, cute little cheekbones and that amazing smile.

I'm a sucker for a guy with a really good smile.

Oh, and he's tall. Very tall. An inch or so taller than Will - and he's a bit taller than me. Pierre must be six foot three. And trust me - that matters. That really matters.

I got a bit obsessed with Pierre last term. I spent more time hunting down his picture on social media than I did revising for my exams. And I've found out a lot about him. I know he's at Oxford; I know he's studying biochemistry; I know he's on his College rowing team. There's loads of photos of him with his crewmates. And yes, I have zoomed in on the bulge in his lycra singlet and no, I wasn't disappointed - quite the opposite. I was very excited indeed.

I don't think he's got a girlfriend. I'd be wasting my time here if he does. I'm pretty sure he doesn't. I've double, triple, quadruple checked all the photos with him standing next to a girl, but there's nothing suggestive. No flirty eye contact, no hand on the lower back. So either he's very good at hiding it - or the coast is clear for me!

"Ohmigod! I think I can see it!"

That's Emma squealing again - she's a real squealer. She's been hyperexcited ever since we got to the airport. For the last fifteen minutes she's been worse than a toddler.

I peer out of the front windscreen. Coming into view is the hotel. It's definitely not a chateau, but it's grander than your typical farmhouse. Three storeys high, in pale yellow stone, with some sort of creeper climbing the front walls. Rustic French luxury. Shabby chic. It couldn't be more quaint if it tried!

The taxi turns off the road and we come a jolting halt in front of the main entrance. The driver jabs a finger at the meter. I've been trying not to look at the cost during the journey, but there's no escaping it now - it's astronomical. Thank goodness our food is all included.

I'm fumbling with my purse, but Emma's already out the door, sprinting across the gravel driveway and into the arms of Will. I watch them embrace for a second, before the driver coughs and points emphatically again at the fare.

A little flustered, I begin to count through the cash that I've brought, but before I can even pass it to the driver, Will's opened the front passenger door and shoved a fistful of Euros into the man's hand.

Will opens my door.

"Hey, great to see you again, so glad you made it!"

I unfold myself from my cramped seating position and get out the car. Emma's boyfriend greets me with a kiss on each cheek.

The luggage is soon unloaded and we make our way to the main entrance. I feel a twinge of jealousy watching Emma walk hand-in-hand with her man. If I didn't feel like a third wheel before, I certainly do now.

"You two are in the twin room upstairs," Will says, pointing up the stairs as we enter the lobby.

It's wonderfully cool inside. It's a relief to be out of the heat.

"All the other guests are staying in the courtyard," he says, gesturing towards the glass doors in front of us. We can see the large rectangular formal garden at the rear of the building, lined by rows of eco-friendly wooden chalets on each side.

"There's no elevator, I'm afraid," he says as we begin to climb the stairs. "We've got to go all the way to the top."

"Where's your room?" Emma asks with a giggle.

"Same floor. I'll show you how to get there."

I swear he winked at her. I know where she'll be sleeping.

Will unlocks the door to our room and hands us each a key. Not that Emma will need hers.

He shows us inside. It's not huge, but large enough for two single beds, a wardrobe and dressing table. There's an en suite bathroom as well.

"Ohmigod, that's amazing. Chloe! Look at the view!"

I join Emma at the window.

"Yeah, you can see all the way to the vineyard," says Will coming up behind girlfriend and hooking his arms over her shoulders. "We call this the courtyard. The other guests are all staying in the chalets." He points to the rows of wooden buildings, running along either side of the garden.

"And is that the pool?" I ask, pointing towards the end.

"Yep, that's right. That's our pool. It tends to get busy around six," he replies. "But it should be empty for the next hour or so, if you want to go down now."

He puts his arms around Emma and kisses her on the cheek. I continue to peer out of the window, to give them a bit of space.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go. I've still got work to do," he tells her apologetically. "I'll see you at dinner."

They kiss again - noisy tongues this time. This is so embarrassing.

Will walks towards the door, but as his hand rests on the handle, he turns back to us.

"By the way, did you guys have lunch?" he asks.

"We got a sandwich at the airport, but I'm starving," replies Emma.

I nod in agreement.

"OK. I'll sort some food for you," Will replies. "See you later."

He winks again to his girlfriend and disappears through the door. Emma and I are alone again.

"I'm exhausted," I sigh as I flop down on my bed.

We got to the airport at four this morning and it's now late afternoon. It's gonna be hard not to fall asleep before dinner. And I've got a headache coming on. I don't know what I need more - food or sleep.

Emma goes into the en suite bathroom. I turn on my phone and tap out a quick message to Dad to say I've arrived. If I don't, he'll only end up calling. Best to send him an update every morning first thing. Then he won't bother me for the rest of the day.

I'm just about to close my eyes, when there's a knock at the door. Emma's still in the bathroom; it's gotta be me who answers it. With great effort, I raise myself from my bed and cross the floor to the door. But it's not Will this time.

"Hi, I'm Pierre," says the young man.

He doesn't need to introduce himself. I know exactly who he is.

"You must be Chloe? It's nice to meet you," he says with a smile. "I've brought you some lunch. I hear you've had a long journey."

He's carrying a tray with some cheese, some fruit and a baguette. He's obviously off duty - just wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

"Er yeah," I manage to grunt. "Thanks."

I thought I'd have a bit of time to prepare for my first meeting with Pierre. I didn't want to see me in these sweaty clothes. I'm red in the face and I stink. I haven't even brushed my hair. I'm so embarrassed.

He smiles again.

Oh my goodness - that smile! It's even better in real life. I love the way his cheeks dimple. I feel my legs turning to jelly.

Speechless, I stand aside to let him through the door. I glance down at his butt as he sets the tray down on the little dressing table - so sexy!

He turns to face me.

He's a little taller than he seemed in the photos - and a little older - but both in a good way. Those boyish cheekbones and dark hair are still there, but his shoulders are broader and through his thin white top I can tell his muscles are more developed. He's even more perfect than I dared hope.

"It's really nice to meet you," coming towards me again.

Awkwardly I hold out my hand.

He smiles disarmingly.

"We should do this properly," he says with another one of his killer smiles. "We should do this the French way!"

He places his hands on my upper arms and kisses my cheeks in turn.

Has he really just kissed me? Has Pierre really just kissed me? Am I dreaming? I mean, it was just on the cheek, but a kiss is a kiss right? In fact two kisses - one on each cheek. All I need now is for him to get down on one knee. I'd definitely say "yes".

"Ah Pierre!" There's a squeal behind me. It's Emma emerging from the bathroom, drying her hands on a towel.

"Great to see you again!" he calls, switching his attention to my friend.

Hold on. You've met Pierre before? And you didn't invite me? You didn't even tell me?

"I've brought you up some food," he says as he embraces her, kissing her on each cheek.

I feel a stab of jealousy. She's got a boyfriend. He shouldn't be kissing her!

"You've met Chloe?" Emma says, gesturing towards me perhaps a little dismissively.

Pierre turns back to me, a big smile on his face.

"Yes. I hear you're going to Oxford in October," he says.

I do a double take. How on earth did he know that?

"Er, yeah," I mumble. "I'm really looking forward to it."

Couldn't I have thought of something more intelligent to say?

"Congratulations!" Pierre replies with a beaming smile. "I'll see you there. I'll be in my second year. I'm doing biochemistry."

"French and German," I reply.

"So have you got your reading list yet?"

I nod.

"Yes, I've got four set texts to get through. I'm going to make a start while I'm here."

I sound sooo boring. I'm just gonna sit in this room reading for the next two weeks. He's never gonna want to hang out with me.

"I forgot to ask Will what time dinner is," says Emma, changing the subject.

"About eight, but we're quite flexible with the timings," Pierre replies. "Just head down about quarter to. The wine'll be open and there'll be lots of other guests around."

"OK, we'll do that," she says decisively.

"Anyway," he said, "I need to get back to the grind. I'll probably see you this evening, but if you need anything, just give Will a call."

"Thanks," says Emma.

He opens the door.

"Nice to see you again," he says nodding towards my friend. "And very nice to meet you."

He gives me another one of his amazing smiles and I only just manage to stop myself swooning.

The sound of the door closing scarcely wakes me from my trance, but Emma is already bounding across to me.

"Ohmigod, did you see that? He is sooo into you," she squeals.

"Nah," I reply, cringing a little. I mean - can Pierre still hear us? Emma's voice carries. It'll be echoing down the stairs and all the way to St Tropez. She's not what you'd call discreet.

"Come on, you gotta admit he's fit though!"

"Hmff," I shrug noncommittally. "I mean he's got a nice smile, I guess."

"And did you see his butt?" she gives me a knowing look. "Honestly girl, I'm kinda jealous."

What? You're crushing on your boyfriend's brother? He's not yours - he's mine! Stay away bitch!

"Woah, woah, woah." I lift my hands in protest. "I'm just here to practise my French and to keep you company. Who said anything about me getting off with a boy?"

" 'Practise your French?' " she mimics. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Grow up," I scowl.

"Seriously, you're gonna let a hottie like Pierre go by?"

I roll my eyes again.

"Come on - he's a perfect match. He's bright, he's cute, he's at Oxford... What's not to like?"

"He's only just met me," I reply, looking down at my shoes. "And he'll be busy working - I'll hardly see him. He's probably got a girlfriend anyway."

"Oh no, don't worry," Emma laughs, placing a hand on my shoulder. "No girlfriend - I've checked. The coast is clear for you, girl."

"Well, anyway," I mutter, looking around distractedly, trying to find a way of changing the conversation. "I'm going to the bathroom."

I cross the room and open the door.

"Gotta tear up your v-card Chloe," Emma calls after me. "And Pierre's as good a guy as any."

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Pierre's POV

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I stand outside for the door a few seconds, listening to Emma's excited shrieks. She's absolutely Will's type - loud with big tits - just like all the rest. I didn't think much of her when I first met her and, to be honest, I still don't understand how she's lasted so long. I thought he'd be on to an even younger model in weeks, but it's been five months now. He'll come out with the same bravado bullshit as he always does, but deep down I can tell he's in love. He'll never admit it, but this one's different. And I'm kinda happy for him, I guess.

And Emma's friend - Chloe? I knew she was tall, but I didn't expect her to be that tall. Seriously. She can only be a few inches shorter than me. But she's sooo shy, almost hiding behind that long, straight hair. She's cute with it too though - a natural blonde, which is nice. I mean, she's quite a lot cuter that I was expecting. She's got those little dimples in her cheeks and nice pointy tits. Not big, to be fair, but perky - and I think I prefer that. I just wish she'd smile a bit more. She seems very serious - very bookish.

We did manage to find a few photos of her, me and Will. We always check out our guests before they arrive. There weren't many pictures, and those we did find were always of her with other girls. Chloe's always the one hiding in the back of shot, kinda looking away from the camera, almost embarrassed to be there.

We've known for a long time that Emma was bringing a friend. Will wants me to keep Chloe, well, "occupied" - and you know what that means. To be honest, I'd fuck anything at this stage - I haven't got laid for what, two months, maybe more. Not since I got back to France. And I'm sure I can get her out of her shell.

"What do you think?"

Will is still sitting at the desk in the lobby as I reach the bottom of the stairs. He's trying to look important and pretending to work, but we both know it's bullshit.

"Yeah, Emma was pretty bubbly," I reply noncommittally.

"No, not her," Will shoots back. "Chloe!"

"Oh," I say, a little absent-mindedly. "She's cute. A bit taller than I was expecting."

"So you're saying you won't?" he asks pointedly.

I shrug, pretending to be indifferent.

Will shoots me a withering look, arching his eyebrow towards me.

"Well if older pussy's still your bag," he taunts, "you know who's booked in for next week?"

I shook my head, dreading his response.

"Anthea Harrison!"

An unwelcome memory forces itself into my head. I shudder.

"She can't wait to see you again!" he teases, a little cruelly.

"No way! No fucking way!" I shake my head, flushing with humiliation.

"So you're gonna get it on with Chloe then? Otherwise, you know who'll be after you."

"What? No? Since when has this been a binary choice?"

"So you wanna do both?" he mocks. "When was your last threesome?"

I roll my eyes.

"Come on Pierre. All I'm asking is that you keep Chloe out the way while I'm with Emma. Think about it! You get to pop her cherry. Another notch on your bedpost. Bragging rights in Oxford. You're still keeping score aren't you? Not that you'll ever catch up with me!"

"Fuck off," I yell and storm out into the bright sunshine, slamming the lobby door behind me.

My idiot brother throws back his head and laughs.

He knows how to wind me up.

--

I suppose I should introduce myself properly. I'm Pierre, Will's younger brother. Will's long-suffering younger brother.

It's very nice to meet you. "Enchanté" as the French would say.

So our Dad's French; Mum's English. And Pierre is my real name. Will's not really Will, of course. He's Guillaume. But they called him Will on his first day at school and he never changed back.

The two of us were born in England and we lived there for my first eleven years - Dad, Mum, Will and me. Then my father made a fortune in some big finance deal and decided he'd retire in his mid-forties. That's when they moved out here, him and Mum. They bought the vineyard and got the hotel bit going. Will and I stayed at boarding schools in England and came to France for the vacations. It's nice down here and the weather's always better than the UK. But it can be pretty isolated at times - especially in winter.