Freeform (13 page)

June

My sore body reluctantly continues to power walk.

Working out while having sex with Tucker is stupid. Having sex with Tucker
is
a workout. That's gotta be the real reason he's built like that. Nonstop Olympic qualifying sex would keep anyone fit and toned around the clock.

The idea of Tucker with other women causes me to grunt.

Look, I know he's not a virgin or anything. Doesn't mean I like the idea of his bedroom life being as colorful as his passport, even if he says I'm the best he's ever had. What if that's a giant lie? I'm convinced it is. Yup. A giant, well-crafted lie.

“You think too hard,” Jaye sighs from the treadmill beside me.

Why do people keeping say that to me?

“Seriously. I mean, I can feel your head hurting from over here.”

I playfully stick my tongue out at her.

“Boss been keeping you too busy to go have a drink with me and Archer?”

“More like the boss' nephew.”

“Right.” Jaye points a finger at me. “You were supposed to keep him company or something?”

“Or something is right,” I mumble.

Should we tell her?

It only takes a moment before her eyes widen and gasps. “No...”

I quietly argue, “It just...sort of happened.”

“Just once?”

“Fine, it sorta just
keeps
happening.” Jaye breaks out into a fit of giggles and my mouth runs away from me much faster than I can move the rest of my body in this state. “I don't know, it's just so hard to resist him! He's charming. And sweet. And romantic. Plus we both love art and the sex is Dear Penthouse worthy and I don't know Jaye, there's something about him, I really
really
like.”

She hits me with a wide smirk. “I can tell by your inability to stop smiling.”

“Oh you were the same way when you started dating Archer!”

She winks. “Exactly.”

I roll my eyes and increase the speed a bit.

No. She was head over heels for Archer. It was about love and connection and commitment. This is just great sex and a shared interest. It can't be anything more than that even if I want it to. What do you mean we have all those things too?

“Do you believe in Fate?”

“Absolutely.” Jaye nods. “It may not always feel that way when it happens, but I think fate and destiny play an important role in love.”

We can't really be in love yet. It's not possible. No one falls in love this fast. It's...lust or love's second cousin twice removed.

“But...by the expression on your face there's a problem. Is it because he's your boss' nephew?”

That stopped factoring in well before it should've.

I hit her with a hurt expression. “Because he always leaves, Jaye. He doesn't stay in the same city or country for too long, this one in particular is always the shortest except for this time around. Tucker goes wherever his passion takes him. I don't wanna get any more attached to what's going on between us than I already am.”

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“As long as it's not have more sex before he goes, because we've really got that covered.”

Would it be bad to ask for a bonus to buy condoms to sleep with my boss' nephew? At least that made you smile.

“Don't deny yourself this moment of happiness because you think there's an expiration date.”

“I
know
there's one.”

“There's only two things we know for certain in life, June. People live. And people die. That's it. Everything in between carries no certainties. Live in these moments with him like they're gonna last forever. That way...
if
they don't, at least you know there are no unanswered questions and no regrets.” Her advice just begins to settle when she adds, “And don't let him control everything.
You
make sure you show him something to remember
you
by. Ya know...outside of sex.”

Her innocent giggle at the end causes me to join in.

Not bad advice for a preschool librarian. Though, if I can be completely honest, I'm not sure there is anything special about me worth remembering. Doubt he'll even recall my name in a couple months. I'll just be another forgotten piece of art that's been graced to be touched by his fingers. Guess in the mean time I better enjoy the admiration. Before I know it....just like Tucker Frost....it'll be gone.  

Tucker

I let my eyes roam around the small room in the back of the art store. While the long tables are empty, the shelves are overflowing with various art supplies and the walls are home to color creations such as painted portraits, skyline sketches, and fascinating 3D designs.

Sitting on the edge of one of the tables, I ask, “What are we doing here?”

“Well,” June starts from behind the desk in the front of the room. “I thought since you've shown me a piece of you, I could do the same.”

Curiosity cocks my eyebrows. “Meaning?”

“When your aunt doesn't need me on Saturday mornings, I host a parent, child art class. It's completely free for them to participate, I volunteer, and the store pays for the supplies of the class. Comes out of their tax deductions plus once we're done here, most kids convince their parents to go buy
something
to keep the art going at home, making it good for business.”

A smile creeps onto my face. “So you're an art teacher in your spare time?”

“I may completely
suck
at creating it myself, but I like to think I have a knack for encouraging others. When my sisters were younger, I loved to give them random art supplies and let them go wild. It was controlled chaos. It helped them see the importance of creativity and allowed me to get things done around the house without having to worry about them being bored or becoming T.V. dependent. Sometimes if I needed to pack their lunches before school the next morning, I'd have them sit at the table and doodle, the most outrageous food creation they could think of. Winner would get an extra cookie in their lunch.”

A loud, warm laugh escapes. “What kinda cookie?”

She hits me with a playful look. “Usually an Oreo.”

“I'd work extra hard for that.”

“Well, then, if you impress me during class today, we'll see about getting you an Oreo.”

I wet my lips slowly and challenge, “How about letting me eat a different kind of cookie?”

June's face flushes. “Say things. No. No.” She shakes her head to clear up her thoughts. A deep breath is released before she states, “You can't say things like that when the kids are in the room.”

“I won't. I promise.”

I haven't had my fill of her yet. Sure, we haven't technically been together that long but it doesn't feel that way. No. Every time we're together it feels like life times of passion, devotion, and pure love are simply being rediscovered as opposed to just starting.  With most women, after the initial rounds of sex, I enjoy balancing between that and whatever I'm feeling inspired to create, yet with June it seems like the need for her blurs the desires to do anything else. As soon as she's in my presence that's all that matters. And to make it even more odd, I find myself
always
wanting her in my presence. At the same time
the unusual sensation has me smiling and scared shitless. It's moments like this I wish Dad was around to ask for clarification.

All of sudden the sounds of feet begin to fill the room and I glance over my shoulder to check out the cause. Numerous children are dragging their parents in by the hand, practically jumping for joy.

“Hi Miss June!” A little red headed girl greets her as she rushes to the front of the class.

“Hi Chloe,” June replies warmly.

She motions to me to get off the table and points to the opposite corner where I guess she wants me to sit. Following her directions, I do, and then continue to watch the small faces light up from the sight of her alone.

I don't know how she could ever think she's invisible. No one shines that bright from the shadows. Come on. Look at their little faces. They adore her. I would know. I adore her too.

The door shuts and June begins, “Good morning!”

“Morning!” They greet back.

“Who likes Play-doh?” She questions with excitement in her tone.

Hands fly up including my own.

What! You mean to tell me you didn’t like Play-Doh growing up? Sure clay is fun to work with, but Play-Doh always instills the same innocent love of art I used to get when my parents would take me to the art store after tennis lessons, which of course was the compromise I made with them to do art with the rest of my time.

“Well, this is clay, which is not quite like Play-Doh, but can be just as much fun. You and your parents are going to sculpt whatever you want with it and then next week when you come back they'll be ready for us to paint!”

“Wow,” collective voices ring out from around the room.

Hey, I like clay. The messier the better sometimes.

“My assistant is going to help me distribute hunks of air dry clay, which is what we're using. You can also buy this in the store to play with at home. A little more expensive than Play-Doh, but doesn't flake when it's dried with whatever fun creation you've come up with.”

Smooth advertising pitch there.

“Come on, Tucker,” she calls to me.

Realizing I'm the assistant, I hop up, and follow her to the containers she's collected.

As we begin placing them in front of the pairs, June states, “Feel free to make as many designs as you like or as few. Think big or small. Art is about expressing yourself, so do that. Most importantly, have fun!”

By the time we're finished distributing clay, there's one tub left in my hands.

“That one is for you.”

“You're not gonna make anything?”

“I told you when we first met and again before class started, I can't. I lack the skill, but that doesn't mean I enjoy working with artists any less.” My mouth twitches to argue, which is when she points back to the seat where I was before. “Now go make me something so I have a little something to remember you by when you leave.”

The sadness in her tone is apparent despite her best efforts.

Never hated the idea of leaving someone behind as much as I am at this very moment.

Nodding, I stroll back over to my seat, which is on the other side of a father and son combo.

The man gives me a short wave and immediately turns back to his son who exclaims, “A T-Rex. Raawwwrrrrr.”

Amused by the sound effects of the child who can't be more than four, I pull out my own clay and continue to listen.

“Let's make a dinosaur egg, Dad!” The boy continues to gush. “A baby T-Rex egg! Rawwwwwwwrrrr!”

“Sure,” the man agrees and gives his son's hair a ruffle. “Whatever you want, Tommy.” Just as my fingers begin rolling around the material, he leans over and whispers, “My wife makes me do this. Says it's good bonding or something. She says Tommy's probably never going to be a sports kid and I should just
embrace
his other attributes.”

Remembering a conversation my own mother once had with my father like that, I nod. “I'd have to agree. When I was Tommy's age, I couldn't care about sports if you bribed me. As I grew up it never really changed. Sometimes some of us are just born knowing what we wanna do. I think nurturing those loves from an early age is a great thing. I think it's a responsible parenting choice.”

The man sits up a little taller. “Oh yeah?”

“Definitely. And being here
with him
as his father definitely creates a bonding that he'll later appreciate.”

“Your old man do art things with you?”

The question grabs a small, sad laugh. “He was a Marine, so working with art materials was
not
his strong suit, but he did attend several wood workshop classes with me when I was nine then again at eleven. I'll never forget it or the bird house that's still in my parent's back yard.”

My mother even bought a bird bath to put right underneath. That's the kind of family we were. We worked together. Completed each other. Dad was the reason. It's why it all fell apart when he died.

He attempts to respond when his son demands more attention. He gives me another polite wave, ending the conversation yet leaving me with the perfect idea of something to make for June.  I get focused and begin vigorously sculpting away, the sound of June's words of encouragement ringing loudly like bells of premature praise.

Every word out of her mouth is supportive. Her tone and affliction is similar to the one my Kindergarten teacher used. It's the type to build children up and water the seeds of dreamers.

As she travels around the room, she reassures them, “Remember, as long as your heart is in it, then it's a work of art!”

Hearing her quote a phrase that hits so close to home with my own belief system furthers my smirk. When our eyes meet, I can't help but blow her a small kiss that makes her bashfully glance away seconds before she bumps into the edge of the desk.

I look back down and smooth the head of the creation.

I wish I could ask June to drop everything here and run away with me. But we both know I can't. She's got responsibilities here, this class being one of them. Part of me wishes wanting to be with me would outweigh the need to stay in such a checklist life style. Wow. I haven't had a selfish thought like that in quite a while...Maybe it's best this whole thing has an end date. Not sure I'm cut out to be the kind of person who asks others to do the things he's not willing too.