“Yeah?” Brian lifted his eyebrows. He wasn’t going to say no. “Alright.”
He pulled the key from his ignition to save the battery and got out of the car, brushing salt and crumbs off his jeans. Jeez, he looked like shit and he knew it. His black tee shirt had come straight of the laundry basket, wrinkles and all. His hair, usually gelled into a messy thatch, drooped on his forehead and kept getting stuck in his eyelashes.
He shut the door and started walking around the fender. Underneath his doc martens, the ground was hard and dry. Tiny clouds of dust puffed up and made sure everyone’s pants turned beige by the end of the night. As he reached the Impala, Brian held out the joint. He wasn’t worried about running out; he had a baggie full of weed and rolling papers in the dashboard of the Dodge.
“Brian,” he said, thinking it was generally good practice to trade names with someone you were about to smoke with. He looked at the short brunette, whose height and stature reminded him a little of Maddy, whom he hadn’t seen since the show at the Dive the other night. Brian had skipped this afternoon’s practice, and ignored the chorus of shouts on his answering machine telling him to grow a new pair of nuts and get in the car.
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2013-11-07 04:58 am (UTC)He pulled the key from his ignition to save the battery and got out of the car, brushing salt and crumbs off his jeans. Jeez, he looked like shit and he knew it. His black tee shirt had come straight of the laundry basket, wrinkles and all. His hair, usually gelled into a messy thatch, drooped on his forehead and kept getting stuck in his eyelashes.
He shut the door and started walking around the fender. Underneath his doc martens, the ground was hard and dry. Tiny clouds of dust puffed up and made sure everyone’s pants turned beige by the end of the night. As he reached the Impala, Brian held out the joint. He wasn’t worried about running out; he had a baggie full of weed and rolling papers in the dashboard of the Dodge.
“Brian,” he said, thinking it was generally good practice to trade names with someone you were about to smoke with. He looked at the short brunette, whose height and stature reminded him a little of Maddy, whom he hadn’t seen since the show at the Dive the other night. Brian had skipped this afternoon’s practice, and ignored the chorus of shouts on his answering machine telling him to grow a new pair of nuts and get in the car.