It was the first time he’d opened up to anyone about his thoughts.
“Trey, we’ve been getting drunk and having sex every weekend since we were sixteen. That has been eight years now. It’s okay to get bored with it. To be honest I wanted to stay home tonight.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Trey asked.
“Because I’d be alone. I’d rather be here than at home all alone. How pathetic is that?”
He didn’t find it pathetic at all.
During the night several women wrapped their arms around his neck, kissing and touching him. For once, Trey wasn’t in the mood to take anything. Dale left first at around midnight. Max left with three women on his arm and a promise to see him Saturday.
At one, the bar closed, and Trey took a beer with him and went for a walk. He needed to clear his head. Something was completely off with how he was feeling.
Since graduation he didn’t have to think about June or how he’d bullied her through high school. Seeing her again had awoken all the guilt, and the hunger still simmered deep inside him.
He wanted her badly.
Max was right. June was a hottie. He’d always thought so, and time had only enhanced her beauty.
Moving from classroom to classroom he remembered looking for her. She was the only girl in high school with dark black hair that was natural and not out of a bottle, and she always walked with her head bowed down.
There were times he wanted to see her blue eyes so he’d knock the books right out of her hands. He always felt like an ass, but at least he got a glimpse at her eyes. The worst was getting shit faced at prom, taking his date to a motel and fucking her. All the time he’d been fucking her, his thoughts were on June. She’d gone to prom, without a date, and she’d looked stunning.
The black full length dress she’d worn had molded to every curve. He’d spent most of the night rock hard, his date thinking she was the cause of his aroused state.
Circling back to town, he kicked an empty beer can across the street heading toward his shop. The buzz of the alcohol was fading. He’d walked his way to being sober.
He saw the light shining in Just Another Slice. Stopping at the entrance to his shop he watched as June made her way around the bakery. She wore an apron, and from across the way he saw her face covered in flour.
Walking toward the door, Trey knocked on the glass.
She jumped, looking at him.
Trey waved at her.
****
June looked at the window and saw Trey waving back at her. He looked rough through the glass. Heading toward the door, she unlocked it and opened the door.
“What do you want?” she asked, frowning.
“I was wondering what you’re doing up.”
“Are you drunk?”
“A little.” He smiled down at her. It gave him a dorky look.
“Then why are you here?” she asked, folding her arms.
“I thought I’d come and see you. Your light was on and everything.”
She stared at him, looking past his shoulder.
“I’m alone. No friends with me today. I’m alone.”
“What do you want?”
“How about I keep you company?” he asked.
Why would he keep her company?
“If you’ve been drinking, where’s your woman? I’ve heard legends of how you take more than one woman at a time.”
Trey let out a sigh. “I’m ruined for all women.”
“Whatever. I’ve got work to do. You should go home and sleep it off.” She didn’t close the door. “Fine, you can stay for one hour, but then you’ve got to leave. I’m not having you here all the time.”
She let him through. The stench of alcohol clung to him making her wince.
He followed her down to the back where the large industrial sized mixer was kneading her dough. Trey sat down on the spare seat she kept in the back.
“Are you always up this late?” he asked.
“Do you always spend your Saturdays walking around drunk?” She fired a question back at him.
“I’m an artist. I always have to clear my head. Speaking of artistry, would you like me to ink your beautiful skin?”
Rolling her eyes, June ignored him.
“I see you ignoring me, June Armstrong.”
Considering he was drunk, he sounded pretty coherent to her.
She went through her morning routine, drinking coffee and transferring stuff from the oven through to the main shop.
“I get up at four and start baking by four-thirty. It’s now five-thirty, and it’s time for you to go.”
“Answer me one question and I’ll leave you alone,” he said, standing up.
“Fine.” She headed for the door intent on getting him out of her shop as quickly as she could.
“Why don’t you want me to ink you?” he asked.