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Alana rolled her eyes and leaned against a metal railing. “My family does own a vineyard.”

“Alana,” Tess warned.

“What? There are extra bottles in the cellar. They won’t notice if a couple go missing.” She crossed her arms. “But we’ll keep it between us.”

For a while they did. Alana would sneak a bottle from the cellar and meet the two of them in the woods behind Tess’s house, in the same spot they hunted for fairies ten years earlier. They would sip on wine and share gossip from school and laugh out loud until there wasn’t a drop left. They never got caught, even if they stumbled into the house with giggles and not-so-subtle hands and feet. Alana knew why, and seeing the wine work in real time gave her a different sense of thrill. Courtney would crash with Alana at the end of the night, and her parents never seemed to mind. They always woke up to pancakes and scrambled eggs, or Mom’s signature lemon scones.

Graduation came and went, but they didn’t move far from Brent. Alana stayed at home and worked on the farm. Tess commuted to Ithaca College for classes. Courtney worked at the grocery store in town, and when she wasn’t working, she was hanging out in the fields. Otto told her if she was going to stick around so often she might as well put in some work. Courtney picked out pliers without a fight.

“Seems fair after all the years of drinking the fruits of your labor,” she said to Alana later, as they kneeled in the dirt and pruned the vines.

Their clandestine meetings for wine and gossip eventually transformed. Instead of meeting in the woods and stumbling back home, they met at college parties in garages or gatherings in abandoned barns. Alana always brought the wine, because it tasted better than fluorescent pink jungle juice or warm cans of Natty Light. The three of them joked about having class and taste, as they poured their Riesling in red Solo cups. Alana felt more comfortable drinking her family’s wine in those moments—especially when so many of her peers were making poor decisions around her. Like drinking themselves sick, or kissing people they shouldn’t.

One night, as they escaped a barn party that was getting too rowdy, they lay out in the fields of a vineyard close by and watched the stars, passing a bottle of Cabernet Franc back and forth.

“Have either of you ever noticed when we drink this wine, we never have a bad night?” Courtney took another swig. “When I go out with other people, the night always goes really poorly and I make horrible decisions. But when I’m with you guys…” She sighed. “It’s so much better.”

Tess poked her side, making Courtney yelp. “Aww, Court. Are you saying we’re your lucky charms?”

Courtney shoved her back. “I don’t know, maybe.”

Alana swallowed and closed her eyes. I need to tell them. It had been three years at that point. Three years of them meeting up and drinking wine. They were legally of age now, but they still snuck around like they were teenagers.

She waited for the magic to stop her, for it to lead her thoughts in a different direction. Telling them was a bad idea, right? So why was her mind telling her it was a good idea to clue them in?

She sat up. “Girls, there’s something I need to tell you.”

The other two mirrored her position, and for the next fifteen minutes, she explained all of it. From her grandfather discovering the field to the way the magic worked in the soil.

“So you’re saying that when I drink this wine, or the tea your mom makes, that I am drinking magic?” Courtney balked.

Alana hesitated. “I know it sounds crazy.”

Courtney picked up the empty bottle beside her, eyes wide, transfixed on the label. Like she expected magic to be listed as one of the ingredients.

Tess grasped Alana’s hand. “It’s not crazy. We believe you.”

Courtney stood up. She reached into her jeans and pulled out the pocket knife she liked to carry on her, the one she used to open boxes and stock at the store. She flicked open the knife, and, before Alana or Tess could stop her, threw it at her bare foot.

The girls shrieked, scrambling to their knees.

Courtney stood motionless, eyes on the knife. It had missed her foot completely. The knife was two inches from her toe, sunk deep in the earth.

Tess blew out a breath. “Jesus, Court.”

Courtney picked up her knife and repeated the motion. Each time, they winced, watching her attempt to stab her foot, but she was never successful. The knife continued to miss.

After her fifth attempt, she looked up at Alana with a menacing grin. “Oh, we’re about to have fun with this.”

Alana’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”

She ignored Alana’s question, bending down to pick up her knife. She wiped the dirt on her jeans, then carefully folded it and slipped it back in her pocket. “So if you consume more of the wine, does that mean you’re gaining more luck?”

“I-I’m not sure,” Alana replied. “In my experience, the luck has only ever been the same.”

“How so?”

“After the first sip or the first bite, there’s a small tingling on your tongue as the magic settles in.”