The garage smelled like engine oil, sweat, and pizza, it was another weekend with the guys.
The big metal door was rolled halfway up, sunlight slanting in through the opening and cutting across the cement floor.
A rock playlist played low in the background, and an open pack of beers sat on the worktable beside a mess of wrenches and bolts no one had touched in hours.
Jett sat on the hood of Leon's car, arms crossed, quietly watching his friends talk shit about everything from the new coach at their gym to last night's fights on TV.
Matt leaned against a tool cabinet, phone in hand, grinning like an idiot. Vince and Troy were arguing over something stupid, as always. While Leon was thier professional Listener.
"Looks like Matt is texting someone special, your eyes have been glued to that phone ever since you arrived." Vince said suddenly, craning his neck toward Matt.
"Maybe." Matt muttered under his breath as he continued to type away.
" 'Maybe' my ass." Leon snorted.
