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Prompt #316 - Photo

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I love being the first in.


The Long Wait (excerpt)


“Dude…” Jason stopped in the parking lot outside the mall. “White wall tyres.”

“Really?” I stood next to him, leaning on his shoulder and making use of the height difference between us. “With the red wheels and everything?”

“Well, yellow would be better.” Jason shrugged, and knocked my arm away. I knew that it bothered him, my closeness, and I knew why.

“You cannot put white wall tyres on a John Deere, Jason.” We abandoned staring at the fancy car and walked into the blessed cool and air conditioned mall. “That’s like, a crime or something.”

“Which is better than you wanting to have your truck sprayed green is it?” Jason jabbed me in the ribs. It was one of his favourite topics to tease me about.

“I told you I’m not gonna do that. It was a passing fantasy.” I fell behind him as I walked, starting at his ass through his jeans. That was much, much more than a passing fantasy.

“You’re looking again.”

“No I’m not.”

“You’re a shitty liar Stud.”

I loved and hated it when he used my nickname. Three years ago we had gone with his father to a PBR Invitational, and in some weird dancing thing in the stands, his father had won a whole bunch of Stanley tools and a Stud Finder. Jason and I had got all giggly and used it on each other, and the buzzer had gone off when he pointed it at my crotch. It was only picking up my belt buckle, but after that I was always known as ‘Stud’.

We wandered through the mall, and in between lingering glances t Jason’s excellent butt, I watched other people. There was no one else in the mall wearing work jeans and western boots, and I wondered if we should have changed out of the t-shirts we had each modified by removing the sleeves an taking a slice out of the collar, which were dusty, smudged, and branded with Jason’s father’s business. We’d both been working at White Creek Farm since we were very young teenagers, and now that it was the summer, and we were seventeen, both of us were employed there pretty much around the clock.

“We look like a couple of country hicks bud.” I stuck my thumbs into the front pockets of my jeans.

“You are a country hick Stud.” Jason stopped outside of the Jack Wills clothes store. “You think we should change our shirts?”

“You wanna spend good beer and gas money on a fancy shirt that won’t last ten minutes?” I grabbed my friend around the neck and hauled him away from the extravagant window display. “Come on, let’s go get clean t-shirts from the Wrangler store.”

“Get off me!” Jason struggled, and punched the side of my abdomen. “You stupid fuckin’ redneck.”

We chose t-shirts in the Wrangler store, ignoring all the clean cut hipsters, tourists and townie kids wanting to play dress up. I took one in blue-grey, with a sketchy imprint of the PBR logo on the front, Jason picked a classic red with the Wrangler text in classic yellow rope stitch. We paid at the cash desk, grinned at each other, and stripped off in the middle of the store......

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