𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℝ𝕠𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕌𝕤

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟 | ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ

Colton

Chuck and I were perched on a couple of mismatched barstools in the cluttered back office of Phoenix Cycles, each of us nursing a beer.

The shop was quiet now, the usual buzz of customers and clanging tools replaced by the distant hum of the city outside.

We'd been buried in the numbers for what felt like hours, trying to figure out the next steps for the shop... But before diving back into the serious stuff, we needed a break-something to lighten the mood. So Chuck ran over to the market next door and got us a six pack.

He was my best friend in the entire fucking world, and I was so glad we patched things up after that last argument.

We fought like that sometimes, like brothers, but that one had scared me a bit. We both seemed serious about it, and it shocked the hell out of me when Chuck forked over his life savings to help me once he heard my dad cut me off.

That said everything to me-he was a pain in the ass sometimes, but I loved this dude.

Chuck shot me a grin, taking a swig of his beer. "You remember that time we tried to build a go-kart out of your dad's old lawnmower?"

I nearly choked on my drink, laughing as the memory hit me.

"How could I forget that shit, dude?! You swore up and down it was gonna be the fastest thing on wheels... We didn't even make it down the driveway before the whole damn thing fell apart."

"Well you were the genius who decided to use the garage door opener as the ignition switch... I still have a scar on my hand from where that thing shocked the hell out of me, you fucking idiot." He smiled.

I leaned back, stretching my arms behind my head, the old memory filling the room with a lighter energy. "Dude, that wasn't my fault... You grabbed the wrong wire. I told you, red was for power, not ground."

Chuck rolled his eyes, the smile never leaving his face. "Yeah, well, you were always the brains of the operation. I have the muscle and the bad ideas."

"I'm sorry—what the fuck are you on about? You think you are the muscle in this dynamic?!"

"Yeah, man." He raised his arm up to kiss his bicep and I pinched him in the ribs until he smacked me.

Actually, Chuck had been really dedicated to his weight lifting these days... He was totally gaining on me.

I laughed again, feeling the weight of the past few weeks ease off my shoulders for a moment.

These memories were like a lifeline, reminding me that no matter how tough things got, Chuck and I had been through worse... We'd fucked up lots of times. We'd argued lots of times. And we'd always come out the other side stronger.

"Oh, shit, I just remembered," Chuck yelled through a stifled laugh, rolling his eyes. "We tried to paint flames on the sides of it with that spray paint you found in the shed. I'm pretty sure we both got high off those fumes in that small room, dude... I swear that I hallucinated at one point. That may have been the first time I ever got high, and it was a complete fucking accident."

I snorted. "Remember how my mom freaked out when she saw us? We looked like a couple of raccoons with all that black paint smeared on our faces."

Chuck laughed so hard he nearly fell off his stool.