June made me feel like I was Marty McFly in Back to the Future. Ya'know, that one scene where his mom tries to fuck him? Yeah? That one.

My mom had blonde hair, like June. Although, hers was bleach blonde, and June's looked natural to me. Physical similarities all but ended there. My mother was a larger lady, beautiful and kind but tired. She wore fifteen years of single motherhood in each fold encircling her facial features, growing darker and deeper, like rings on a log, until she died. June... June was stunning. She was five and a half feet of curves in all the right places. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, but whenever her eyes met mine, I was repelled. June wore my mother's eyes. The signs of substance abuse were etched into every facet of June's expression. The way she would look at you. The way she would look at the world around her. The way that June floated through life, it seemed to me that it had been years since she'd seen anything clearly.

The engagement ring bothered me too, especially the way that she removed it as soon as she knew that I'd seen. This was an adulterer, like my father and she wanted me to be her mistress, like my mother had been. She fit the part too. Undertones of self-righteousness and entitlement reared their ugly heads whenever June opened her mouth.

This must be what my dad's like.

I may have been a culmination of the choices that my parents made, but I refused to make the same mistakes that they had. June was a can of worms that wasn't worth opening, no matter how much I liked what I saw on the outside. This was the exact kind of person that I couldn't risk bringing around Garrison, or Louise for that matter.

No harm in looking though, and I'd done a lot of that. I tried to resist, at first, but every time that I snuck a peak at her, it was more and more intoxicating. When she was happy, laughing with Sam, even though I found the pair's banter obnoxious, the pure joy that flashed across June's face for a moment set my chest aglow. And now, watching June line up her shot on the nine ball, I could shamelessly rake my eyes over the silhouette of her flawless body. The moment was fleeting, though, and I forced myself to end my perverted impulses by looking at anything that wasn't June-shaped. People like June send wrecking balls and tornados into the lives of those closest to them. Luckily, I had a lot of practice at not letting people get too close and it wasn't hard to find things that June and I vehemently disagreed on. Especially since by ten o'clock, everyone but Perry, the skinny blonde dude who looked like a Ken Doll with a low taper fade, was plastered. I guess that's what happens when you party with wealthy weirdos who keep the drinks coming. Our game of pool had gone completely off the rails, too.

A formerly white cue ball came flying off the green-felt surface of the pool table, knocking an empty amber pint glass to the scuffed tile floor with an ear splitting crash. I shot an ugly look at the repeat offender, who had done the same thing to a beer bottle ten minutes ago and made no attempt to help the exhausted teenage busboy who came to clean it up. June was already shaping up to be exactly what I expected.

She was laughing now, making a scene to distract herself and everyone else from the 17 year-old with braces and a backwards baseball cap, who was carefully sweeping up shattered glass for a second time. My patience was wearing thin. I approached the kid and thanked him for his help as he finished his work.

"I appreciate it, man. You a local?" The kid asked. Dolphin's Coast didn't get as many tourists as most coastal towns, but they were still a relatively common occurrence.

"Yeah, I am. They're not," I responded, vaguely gesturing to the corner where Perry and June swung their feet from dark wooden bar stools, with the rest of the group standing around them, holding their own drinks. It looked like a still from a nature documentary on intraspecies power dynamics: June and Perry standing firmly at the top of the hierarchy, with everyone else clawing and scratching for third and fourth place. I was wary of both of them, but I had to admit that I was having a much better time tonight than I expected.

Being super drunk with a large group of other super drunk people is a really good time, it turned out. Even more so when most of them were tolerable company.

By the way, turns out some dresses have pockets! How crazy is that?

Sam was fun, and absolutely hilarious. I knew she was my favorite coworker for a reason, though I'd never tell her or anyone else that. Pearl seemed sweet, although she must be insane to be this bent out of shape over Johnny. He was a great guy, super empathetic and sensitive. Walking red flag, though: he was twenty-nine and didn't act a day over twenty. Rosemary was Rosemary, but I was glad that tonight she was Rosemarying in Perry's direction instead of mine. Perry was tolerable, a bit pretentious but seemed well meaning. As I finished my small-talk with the bus-boy, I watched June get up and head towards the bar. I politely excused myself and followed her nonchalantly, trying to keep my whole 'mysterious brooding bad boy persona,' as Louise would call it, from wavering.

"Twooo lemon drops," June slurred, audibly plopping her butt onto the bar stool's hand embroidered seat cover.

"Cocktails or shots?" The bartender asked, adding salt to the rim of a margarita before sliding it towards a dark-haired woman in her forties.

"Shots." June replied shortly, examining her french-tipped nails.

"And a rum and coke please," June whipped her head around, locking her bloodshot eyes with my clear ones. As expected, I found her expression to be clouded by sadness and disassociation. I pulled out the bar stool to June's left and took a seat on the quilted cow print cushion.

I fear for her well-being, but she's not my responsibility.

I plucked a thick cardboard coaster, plastered with local advertisements, from the little wicker basket in front of June and gently spun it in my hands, "Havin a good night?" I asked, indifferently. She held eye contact with me, the red and orange lights from the neon sign in front of the bar illuminating her face and setting her golden hair ablaze. My gaze dropped to her plump lips, but it was too tempting. I found my way back to her eyes quickly and she cocked one eyebrow, challenging me.

Dammit. Stay focused, Nathan.

"I'm better now," June winked. Resisting June's charm was already proving to be difficult, but I had no interest in anything with a girl like her. I grimaced in response, feeling a surprising touch of regret for what I was about to do. The bartender set June's two lemon drop shots in front of her, but June didn't acknowledge him, and after a moment he walked away silently. I shuffled my feet on the ground below me, my shoes releasing from the sticky floor with a squelch.

"I have a little local pro tip, for ya, if you'll hear it," I said, leaning in until our faces were inches from each other. The warm humid night air smelled like alcohol and pinesol, and it created a vacuum of dead space between our wide-eye stares. June nodded eagerly, her labored breaths coming out at a quickened rate and I let out a pleased hum, looking back down at her lips for a moment before returning to her eyes, "If you want anyone to actually tolerate you around here, you're gunna have to learn to say 'please' and 'thank you.' Bare minimum stuff here." The flirtatious twinkle in her deep sea-foam blue-green eyes had been replaced with hurt. Her lower lip quivered in short bursts. June was giving the performance of a lifetime, and I was certain that crying had gotten her out of taking accountability at other times in her life. She didn't feel bad that she'd been rude to others, she felt bad because the boy that she wanted to sleep with knew that she'd been rude to others.

The bartender awkwardly set my drink in front of me, breathing out a barely audible, "Sorry," before scurrying off to one of the many middle-aged bar flies in overalls who were trying to flag him down for another beer.

"Thank you!" I called out after him, maintaining tense eye contact with June. A thick blush had spread across the soft, dewy skin of her cheeks, but her nostrils were flared with rage.

"You really are a fucking asshole, aren't you, Nate." My name ripped through her throat: half-whisper, half-scream. Primal. I shrugged at her in response and her mouth turned downward into a deep scowl. She downed both lemon drops in quick succession before storming off with a huff and a single perfect tear rolling down her cheek. My chest tightened as I watched her walk away.

"You agreed to the advice," I shrugged with outward indifference, talking to no one.