#silver chevy silverado

[shellbilee]

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 4

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Comment if you'd like to be tagged! x

Glen feels like he's buzzing.

Like the kind of buzzing you feel when you've had one too many cups of coffee, or a hit of pre workout just before a big gym session.

Except this time, he knows it has nothing to do with caffeine.

It's Billie.

He’s known her for less than twenty-four hours, but already he feels like he can’t get enough of her. Of her voice, her eyes, her lips, of her smile. Her fucking gorgeous smile.

Glen looks over when he sees a black Ford pick up pulling up a few spaces away, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees Billie step out of the car. He sucks in a breath as he looks her over, feeling his muscles clench as his eyes run over her body. Her thick legs, her round ass, her toned abdomen peeking out from beneath the cropped shirt she’s wearing. It’s enough to send him spinning.

Fuck.

He looks back at his reflection in his rearview mirror, running his fingers through his hair and putting his cap back on. He bares his teeth, checking for any missed pieces of food, before letting out a heavy breath and getting out of his car.

“Billie!”

Glen sees her look up at his call, a happy smile parting her lips when she sees him. He jogs the short distance over to her, watching as she puts her phone away and reaches up to shield her face from the afternoon sun. 

“Nice wheels” he says, gesturing to her pick up behind her, Billie’s smile widening.

“Thanks. I like yours too”.

Glen grins, glancing back over at his own Chevy Silverado, his big silver truck standing out like a shining beacon in the Ikea parking lot.

“Can I ask you a question?” Billie asks as they start walking towards the entrance, Glen watching the way her long ponytail bobs as she walks. 

The colour reminds him of roasted espresso beans, with ribbons of warm chocolate rippling through.

“Shoot”.

“It must be really hard for you to just, go out shopping? I mean everywhere you go, you kind of risk being stampeded by fans” Billie says, looking at the building entrance and back at Glen, “It didn’t even occur to me what this might be like for you, and now I feel a bit stupid that I asked you to come along. To Ikea of all places”.

Glen laughs and shakes his head. “Billie, I’d have said yes to anything you said if it meant that I got to spend more time with you”.

Glen loves the way her smile grows then, the soft blush that creeps into her golden skin from his words.

She has no idea how fucking gorgeous she is.

“But to answer your question, yes, it can be hard. It’s not something I really thought about though, at least until Top Gun. That kind of changed everything”.

Billie laughs, and Glen immediately decides that her laugh is one of his new favourite sounds.

“I mean, not to go all fan girl on you, but I can see why that happened. You were pretty memorable in that movie” Billie says, offering a soft, sheepish smile and pulling her ponytail forward so that it tumbles down her shoulder.

“Yeah, as the asshole character” Glen replies, teasing another chuckle from Billie that makes his stomach flip.

“Well you did sort of save the day at the end, so perhaps that’s more the reason?” Billie reasons, her shoulders lifting in an adorable shrug, “Or you know, there’s the whole beach scene too, you were kind of gorg---, I mean, hard to forget in that”.

Glen turns to Billie with a raised eyebrow, willing her to continue talking. Instead he sees her mash her lips together, her eyes squeezing shut and her brow furrowing for a moment. She looks up at Glen a second later, her eyes big and beautiful, flashing with what Glen can only describe as embarrassment. 

“I’m going to shut up now, because I’ve said too much and I’m making an idiot of myself”.

Glen drops his head back and laughs, clapping his hands together.

“You know, I’d be quite happy to recreate that scene for you if you really wanted to see it again. Private screening, just for you”

Billie laughs and shoves him playfully. 

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

Glen doesn’t answer, instead flashing Billie his most charming grin.

“Alright so tell me, what kind of couch are we looking for?” Glen asks when they reach the entrance, cold, air-conditioned air blasting them as they walk through, “How many seats? Fold out? Material? Where is it going in your house?”

Billie bites her bottom lip again, and Glen has to put his hands on his hips to stop himself from grabbing her face and kissing her.

“I can’t answer any of those questions except that it’s going in my living room” Billie says, lifting her hands up in an I-don't-know-gesture’, the two walking through to the first of the showrooms.

“Okay so do you have any ideas of what you’re after then?” he asks, pausing when Billie leans over to run her hand over a navy throw blanket.

“A colour that Nugget’s fur won’t be so noticeable on. That’s about it so far”.

Glen laughs. 

“Okay so no dark colours then” he says as they browse the concept bedroom, the theme an earthy mix of whites, browns and deep greens. 

They move onto the next room - another bedroom, this one decorated in an urban, industrial theme. It’s all exposed brick walls and black fixtures, the bed linen a tangle of moody greys and dark navy. It reminds Glen of his own style at home, making him think of the dark charcoal sheets that are currently on his bed.

Sheets, he thinks, that would look great under Billie’s naked body.

Fuck.

His mind wanders for the tenth time since he’s been here, looking over to find Billie bending over to pick up and inspect a large terracotta coloured cushion. All of a sudden, his eyes are glued to her ass, her round, peachy ass in her bright blue, skin tight shorts. 

He imagines it in just a pair of panties and nothing else, a deep wine colour, a tiny, lace and silk number that covers next to nothing. He imagines her bent over in front of him, a cheek in each of his hands, her skin soft and buttery smooth as he kneads her supple flesh.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Glen exhales deeply, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself to get his thoughts in check. He looks up a moment later to see Billie taking a photo of the tag on the cushion she's holding, before dropping it back onto the bed and making her way into the next room.

“Maybe suede?” Billie asks, running her hand over the back of a grey suede loveseat she's just stopped in front of, Glen following close behind. 

“Probably not the best for fur though” Glen counters, Billie nodding in agreement and leaning her hip against the couch as she looks around the new room.

Glen hears laughter up ahead and he turns to see a group of girls walking towards the room they're in. There's four of them, all eighteen or so, laughing and chatting away at each other as they walk. 

He exhales heavily through his nose. Young girls were always tough to deal with when he was out - they made the most noise. They also posted everything on social media. 

The last thing he wants is fan attention when he's out with Billie, or worse, paparazzi following him in Ikea of all places. He knows from past experience it’s one of the quickest ways to freak out a girl he likes, particularly one that isn’t in the spotlight like Billie. 

He has a split second to make a decision. 

And so, he does.

“I think I like grey or ta--”

Billie’s words are abruptly cut short when Glen grabs her hand, pulling her into a nearby alcove behind the bedroom's wardrobe.

“Are we hiding?” Billie whispers after a moment, confusion evident on her face as she looks up at Glen in front of her.

He nods.

For a second he can’t think of anything except Billie, about how fucking gorgeous she is, about how right at this current moment she’s pressed up against him against a wardrobe, her fingers still wrapped in his.

Billie frowns, an amused, but confused expression on her face, Glen watching as she leans back to poke her head out of the alcove.

Glen sees her face transform with understanding when she sees what Glen is hiding from, the sound of the girls laughing and talking now evident inside the room. She leans back in towards Glen, a soft smile on her face, and it takes everything Glen has not to lean in and kiss her right there and then.

They both still when they hear the voices come closer, Glen's grip on Billie's hand tightening. He feels a momentary sting of alarm, all manner of potential scenarios now playing out in his head.

His chest tightens as he sucks in a deep breath, panic suddenly taking over his brain.

Fuck. Here we go.

He hears footsteps walk into the alcove and Glen isn't sure what to do, his thoughts immediately silenced when Billie reaches for his jaw and pulls his mouth to hers.

Oh, Billie.

In an instant every part of him relaxes, concerns from just a moment ago seemingly forgotten. Her lips are soft against his, moving against his in a tender kiss, her free hand cupping his jaw and holding his face to hers. He releases her other hand and searches for her waist, his fingers finding the bare skin beneath her short shirt and gripping at her warm flesh.

She's everywhere, all at once, the sweet taste of her mouth, the softness of her lips, the intoxicating scent of her skin, every single one of his senses suddenly drowning in her. Glen's heart races in his chest, his brain unable to think of anything else except Billie.

He hears the awkward stammering of the intruding girl, but it's barely audible above his heart beat in his ears. Just when Glen thinks he could die right here and now, Billie breaks away and turns her head, her hand still holding his face to her neck. He realises she’s shielding him, hiding his face from the unknown girl, his chest all but heaving as his mouth hangs less than an inch from her neck.

“Oh um, sorry” Billie says with a mischievous exaggerated giggle, the other girl muttering her own apology.

Glen barely listens as the girl backs away out of the alcove, unable to concentrate on anything except Billie's neck. He breathes in her scent, delicious and warm, forcing himself to stay still. It takes everything he has not to close that one inch gap and press his lips to Billie’s throat, every single fibre in his body screaming at him to drag his tongue along her skin.

Some part of him hears the girl return to her friends, the group giggling and quickly scurrying out of the showroom moments later. Reluctantly he pulls away when Billie releases his face, a heavy breath leaving his mouth as he does. Billie looks back at him with bright, wide eyes, Glen hyper aware that her chest is still pressed to his and his fingers are still gripping the warm skin of her waist. His thoughts are all but blank, except for how much he wants to do that all over again. 

He's buzzing again, stronger now, the feel of Billie's lips against his seemingly burnt into his brain. He drops his head back against the wall behind him and looks down at her with an incredulous smile, words struggling to form in his mind.

“Th---that was---”.

“Some quick thinking?” Billie interrupts, finishing his sentence for him and flashing a gentle grin.

He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out, Billie laughing and grabbing his hand from her waist. He says nothing as she wraps her fingers in his and steps away from him, pulling on his hand so that his body peels away from the wall and follows her back out into the bedroom.

“C'mon you, we've gotta find me a couch”.

---

Billie

“Are you sure you’re okay with those? I can carry one if you need”.

Glen looks down at her and shakes his head, two furniture flat packs nestled firmly under each of his arms. Billie forces herself to keep her eyes trained on his face, fighting the urge to stare at his thick biceps.

“No need darlin’, I got this”.

Billie exhales silently. 

How is his voice so damn attractive?

How does he make that ONE WORD sound so damn attractive?

How is ALL of him so damn attractive?

She swallows thickly.

She still can’t believe how bold she’d been earlier, still not quite believing that she’d kissed Glen. It was a split second idea that needed a split second decision. And she’d done it without a second thought.

She’d kissed Glen Powell.

The look on his face when she’d pulled away had made it all worth it though, and it had taken everything she had not to lean back in and kiss him up against the wall of the Ikea wardrobe. 

God.

To say she was attracted to him was an understatement, now even more so if that was even possible. To his gorgeous green eyes, his devastatingly sexy smile, his broad, muscled chest. If she were a cartoon, she was pretty certain she’d be drawn with permanent heart shaped eyes every time she looked at him. 

Billie pulls out her keys when they reach her car, unlocking the tailgate and stepping back to allow Glen to unload the flat packs into her tray. 

After much searching she’d ended up finding a couch she liked - an ‘L’ shaped three seater with a chaise extension, in a rich caramel coloured leather. There hadn’t been any left in stock though, so she’d instead ordered it, with delivery expected early next week.

She’d also found a new wooden end table and a small oak bookshelf that she loved, both of which Glen was currently hauling into her car.

Billie opens the front door of her pick up and throws the bag of assorted cream and grey cushions she'd also bought onto the passenger seat, closing the door and turning around in time to see Glen shutting her tailgate. He reaches up to readjust his hat, his sandy blonde hair peaking out from beneath it, an effortlessly handsome smile on his chiselled face. 

Billie wonders idly if he has any idea of the effect he has on her. Or on women in general for that matter.

“So I know we’ve spent the better part of the afternoon together, and at the risk of sounding needy, can I ask what you’re doing for dinner?”.

Billie can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips then, her face falling a second later when she remembers she actually does have plans.

“I've actually got a dinner to go to, a house-warming barbecue up in the hills”.

She feels her heart fall when his face drops, and in an instant she wishes she hadn't RSVP'd to her Saturday night plans.

“My boss just bought a new place” Billie explains looking down at her hands and then back up at Glen again, “but---, I’m free all day tomorrow?”.

His face instantly lights up at her words and suddenly her heart is soaring again, his gorgeous grin returning.

“It’s a date”.

Billie laughs and tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. “Does that mean today counts as our first date then?”.

Glen shrugs adorably. “That depends”.

“On?”

“Whether or not you liked it. If you didn’t, then no, it doesn’t count and tomorrow can be our real first date”.

Billie laughs out loud, shaking her head so that her ponytail swishes along her shoulder.

“I like unconventional dates” she says lifting up her hands in a shrug, “There isn’t so much pressure”.

Glen nods in agreement.

“Unconventional” he says repeating her word as if he’s thinking of ideas, his grin suddenly growing even wider.

Billie laughs again, but she can't help the frown that suddenly bends her brow.

“All of a sudden I’m scared to ask about what you’ve now got planned for tomorrow”.

Glen winks conspiratorially. 

“I’ll message you with the time”.

“Can I at least have a hint?”

Glen shakes his head.  

“Nope” he says, making the ‘p’ sound pop, “You said you like surprises”.

Bille laughs and rolls her eyes, immediately cursing herself for telling him that earlier.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Glen says, pushing himself off her car and stepping towards her.

Billie only nods, a school-girl smile threatening to split her face.

She sucks in a breath when he leans in towards her, his lips grazing her cheek with a gentle kiss. She closes her eyes momentarily, opening them back up when he steps away, seeing him look down at her with a smile that makes her knees weak.

“Have a good night Billie”

Billie lets out a shaky, silent breath and smiles.

“You too Glen”.

He winks at her and suddenly Billie seriously considers cancelling her dinner plans, watching as he walks off towards his truck. He turns to look back at her when he reaches his car, that same damn gorgeous smile etched on his face as he waves at her. She stays frozen by her car, her mind reeling as she mentally goes over the afternoon she's just had, reaching up to wave back at him.

Moments later he's in his truck and driving away, leaving Billie standing alone in the Ikea parking lot with nothing but a stomach full of nerves and a mind full of excitement for tomorrow.

---

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TAG LIST:

@wickedtactics @auntiegigi @friedchips94 @maeleelee @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @queenslandlover-93 @itsjustkhaos @kneelforloki @djs8891 @lovemesomevesey

[spacenintendogs]

what the gang has for Transportation in my modern au

hiccup has a motorcycle he built himself basically from the ground up and he completed it his senior year of high school. he showed up to school riding it with the parking pass to go to the student lot and taped it to the handle bars. painted the same color as toothless. very much built for Speed. side pouch for toothless to sit in. it honestly breaks down a lot and he has to always fix it lmao

astrid owns a car that's got good gas mileage. i think it'd be a toyota corolla. it's silver and is covered with stickers on the back with varying messages ranging from the gym she goes to's logo to "if you can read this get off my ass" type shit. stormfly loves sticking her head out the window as astrid drives and if she's with astrid, she gets the front seat no questions.

fishlegs owns a volkswagen beetle. bright green. stickers all over the back of it with varying messages ranging from stuff about saving the planet, having a gronckle on board, and a bunch of stickers stuck on by the rest of the gang as jokes and otherwise. you immediately know it's his car. everyone always plays punch buggie when they see his car despite hiccup's insistence to knock it off because it doesn't count when they see it 24/7. meatlug has a specific seat just for her in the front :) baby on board!!

snotlout owns a Harley Davidson motorcycle with the fucking spread handlebars and everything. probably has flames painted on the side of it bc he's like that. has a saddlebag on both sides. hookfang will sit in the saddlebag and when he grows bigger (hee :)) snotlout will eventually get a sidecar that hookfang sits in :)

ruffnut drives a an old chevy silvarado pick-up truck. it's got a lot of miles on it but it runs very well. not a huge truck but it is good when they have sizeable loads to move lol. the back is also covered in stickers of varying messages but her favorite is one of those stupid ones with calvin from calvin and hobbes pissing on a logo of some random sports team she doesn't give a shit about. it just makes her laugh. the seats are torn at the seams because of 1. how old it is and 2. barf and belch like to Shred.

tuffnut also drives the old silverado but he also has a bicycle he likes to use. he loves using it!! it's bright blue with cool ass stickers all over it. he sometimes has ribbons coming out of the handlebars for pizazz. he just loves having the wind in his hair!! very serious about bicycle user safety stuff!! he knows all the hand signals!! the gang think he's weird for it but he'll always get whereever they're going first and they do not understand how (bikes = driving through small areas off road :)) he wears a special backpack that barf and belch sit in!!!

[scottienolan]

full name: scottie (scarlett) belle nolan

nicknames: scotch, scots

age: 25

star sign: gemini (june 17th)

hometown: orlando, florida

occupation: waitress at oasis

pronouns/gender: she/her, cis female

time in town: new in town

location: fisher's cove

@aurorabayaesthetic

please be aware the following bio contains mentions of childhood poverty, drug use, parental abandonment, foster care, and assault

the story so far.

scottie (born scarlett) was born as the second child to nina nolan, a stripper in orlando who could barely hold down a job for anything longer than four months.

with her mother and her older brother, atlas, scottie grew up in 'pay by the night' motel rooms. often it was just her and her brother fending for themselves while their mother worked and partied through nights and slept through the days. that's when times were good.

when times were bad nina would disappear for days at a time, either with a new boyfriend or whatever substance she was currently indulging in. those would be the times they'd get kicked out of motels for falling behind on payments.

eventually the luck ran out and child services collected scottie and her brother when she was ten years old. separated by the system, they agreed to meet up in california when they turned eighteen after scottie having an obsession with hollywood all her life.

scottie bounced through the foster care system, some places good and some places bad -- some stays long and some stays short. a bad altercation with a man in her last placement led to her breaking a bottle over his head in self-defense -- an assault charge that led her to spend her last two years in the system in a group home.

after spending their time in several cities along the coast and a span of three years in las vegas working as a stripper, she currently rents a house in fisher's cove with her brother. they haven't heard from nina since they were kids. they enjoy throwing rowdy parties and are no strangers to noise complaints.

scottie fell easily into working as a cocktail waitress -- an adaptable job that puts her natural flirtation skills and attitude to work and results in good tips and happy regulars. she runs an onlyfans account on the side with a solid base built up of fans from her stripper days.

over the last year, scottie has been dabbling in a fledgling 'onlyfans' account -- she'd always dreamed of being famous, and getting the account off the ground is one step closer to that.

fun facts.

scottie grew up in Orlando and has an aversion to Disney World in spite of never stepping foot in the place before. (Her family couldn't afford to and she was painfully jealous being constantly surrounded by people who could.)

scottie drives a red 1998 Chevy Silverado pickup truck that she bought with her savings after turning 18. At the time it didn't run, but she and her brother spent hours watching Youtube tutorials and scavenging junkyards until they got all the right pieces to fix it up.

scottie is a big fan of the cheap fountain drinks that you can get at the gas station and is known for her experiments in mixing various kinds of soda to her liking. One can always be found in the cup holder of her truck.

scottie has an affinity for Big Red chewing gum if she's at work serving cocktails, there's a 98% chance she's got gum in her back pocket or is chewing it obnoxiously.

karaoke song of choice is 'Fancy' by Reba McEntire. She knows no other songs by Reba McEntire.

always wears a cheap silver heart gumball machine ring that her mother got for her when she was seven.

current connects:

sister to @atlasnolan

cousin to @cricketcampbell

coworker of @lorelailewis

hookup/OF collaborator of @buddywellls

wanted connections:

oasis regulars: people who work at the club or who scottie frequently waits on

service industry friends: people who she can meet up with for drinks during weird hours

equally unhinged influences: people she gets into trouble or hijinks with around town

neighbors: both people who frequent her and her brother's house parties or alternatively someone who might live next door and can't stand the noise

romantic connections: completely open to mess here!

scottie is a new babe and i'm pretty open to where she goes so hmu if you have ideas!

[abbeyjoy17]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Chevy Valve Stem Caps Silvery Metal 4 pcs NIP.

[karenlacorte]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: ❤️ Hot Wheels Toon'd '83 Chevy Silverado.

[uishaper]

The Chevrolet logo features a bowtie shape in gold, silver, or black against a white background. The exact origin of the logo is not known, but there are several theories about its meaning. One theory is that the logo was inspired by a wallpaper pattern that co-founder William C. Durant saw in a French hotel in 1908. He reportedly tore off a piece of the wallpaper and brought it back to the United States, where it served as the inspiration for the Chevrolet logo. Another theory is that the logo was inspired by the Swiss flag, which features a similar cross shape. This theory is supported by the fact that Louis Chevrolet was born in Switzerland. Regardless of its origin, the logo has become an iconic symbol of the Chevrolet brand. It represents quality, durability, and innovation, which are values that the company has embraced since its founding in 1911. The bowtie shape is also said to represent the company's commitment to excellence and its desire to always be moving forward. #chevrolet #chevroletperformance #chevroletfans #chevroletindia #chevroletlovers #chevrolet #chevy #camaro #cars #corvette #car #ford #carsofinstagram #americanmuscle #usa #musclecar #v8 #camaross #ss #dodge #photography #florida #gmc #california #silverado #mustang #classiccars #zl1 #truck #toyota #gm #chevytrucks #miami #trucks #bmw

[goldenpinof]

Alright everyone needs to calm down we have way more important things to worry about. Like. Shouldn’t all Chevy silverados be silver in color ? The current name just seems like a scam and false advertising smh.

this is so random, i love it

[masjestudio]

Chevrolet Silverado #silverado #chevy #gmc #truckinaround #silveradonation #chevrolet #trucks #droppedtrucks #trokiando #ford #liftedtrucks #gm #truck #البحرين #مواتر #silveradoloyalty #silverado1500 #silveradoss #chevysilverado #silveradohd #silverado2500hd #silverado2500 #liftedsilverado #silveradoz71 #silveradotrailboss #silveradotrucks #silverado4x4 #silveradorst #silveradofire #silveradobotas (di Silver Springs Shores, Florida) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cmg2PaRp2zK/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[neekaasaddie]

Silver Chevy Silverado

     “Can I bum a cigarette?” I ask with a forced vein of nonchalance in my voice. A pair of clear green eyes flit up from a phone screen to meet mine. Confusion paints the face until recognition dawns as he remembers who I am. He squints his eyes.

    “Aren’t you a little too young?” he questions rhetorically as he leans to the left, reaching into his back right pocket. The movement sends a waft of musky cologne in my direction and I feel my knees weaken a little so I rest my forearms on the windowsill of his silver Chevy Silverado. If his door wasn’t closed he would have noticed my legs turn into jelly and if his window wasn’t rolled down, I would have nothing to lean on–– I probably would have just collapsed.

    I sigh with relief, letting my hands hang limply on the other side of the door. As my head nears the interior of the car, a hodgepodge of aromas meet my nose, the most prominent being that of marijuana and tobacco, but I find them neatly wrapped in the sweet scent of vanilla. My nose crinkles as it processes the stimulatingly complex fragrance. But thoughts and observations come to a halt when an American Spirit cigarette is presented inches from my face, the filter pointing towards me. 

    He remains silent but tilts his chin downward in a single, subtle nod, permitting me to take the cigarette. Uncharacteristically, I lock my eyes to his as I wrap my lips around the cigarette slowly, softly. Then, I gently pull my head back, extracting the cigarette from between his fingers. I feel my cheeks warm slightly as I realize what I’d just done, but our eyes remain locked on one another. I finally take the cigarette between my index and middle finger.

    “Light,” I demand.

   Reality seems to settle in as I speak, and I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I don’t even smoke. I just need an excuse to talk to him. But why am I even talking to him? What possessed me to walk over to his car and make a fool out of myself? 

   Usually when I’m reading a book by my window in the morning, I see him smoking in his car with his door flung open and his feet hanging out. But today–– today he decided to smoke in the afternoon and I had been sitting on the curb in front of my house contemplating my existence and pondering upon my utter loneliness when he pulled up in his silver steed. 

   Now I’m standing on the water soaked asphalt in a black, tattered extra-large zip-up hoodie with baggy gray jeans asking my neighbor for a cigarette. A neighbor whom I’ve only spoken to once before but have been smitten with ever since.

   My eyes find the lighter as I hear a flick and see a flame grow. It’s like everything is in slow motion as I observe the tip of the cigarette slowly wilt and ashen. Like I said before, I’ve never smoked. So I’d expected it to feel uncomfortable or even excruciating but I’m surprised to find the sensation of the smoke entering my lungs to be smooth. And I’ve watched enough movies to know how to hold a cigarette and the common rhythm of inhale, index and middle fingers to cigarette, hold breath as cigarette exists mouth, exhale, cigarette back in mouth, and repeat. I even remember to tap off the ashes.

   “So what’s on your mind?” he asks, placing the lighter on the dash. 

   “What makes you think I’ve got something on my mind?” I challenge.

   “You asked to bum a cigarette.”

   “I have nothing on my mind.”

   “Alright then,” he pauses, “I’m gonna sit in the trunk and smoke.”

   I step back from his door, cigarette in hand, and watch him hop into the back of the truck. I don’t move a muscle, staring at him like an idiot, fawning over how his dark green flannel brings out his light green eyes. As if his mere presence wasn’t enough to make me swoon, he runs his fingers through his caramel colored and blonde highlighted hair as he takes his cigarette out of his mouth. 

   “You can join me if you’d like,” he says with a trace of a grin. I kick myself mentally for being so stupid, take a drag, and hop into the black plastic lined interior of the trunk.

   We sit in silence for what seems like hours, both taking comfort in the other’s presence. When my cigarette dwindles down to the filter, he wordlessly hands me another, lighting it with another lighter he seemed to have in his pocket. I peer over the parallel houses and to the towering mountains harboring large-faced slabs of beige stone at their peaks. The damp asphalt emanates a nostalgic scent which mingles with the smoke lingering in the air and I think of the torrential downpour of rain that only came to a halt about two hours ago. My eyes flip up to the gray matted sky. Pockets of sunshine try to peek through the thick blanket but the gloom prevails. It's funny how Mother Nature knows how to match your current state of inner turmoil so perfectly.

   “My only friend is moving to another country,” I say abruptly. I can feel the tears welling up behind my eyes, but I stifle them with a shake of the head and the drag of a cigarette. I let my left arm hang out the back of the trunk, flicking grey ashes onto the pitch black ground.

   “I got into a fight with my brother,” he sighs, surveying the mountains and sky, like I just had. I chuckle. 

   “Mine’s worse.”

   “I broke his arm.”

   I hold my breath then nod sullenly, accepting defeat. 

   “Just a friend?” he asks as he exhales, sending a plume of smoke into the sky. He keeps his head tilted back, letting suspended grey tendrils travel down the sides of his face.

   “What?”

   “Your friend that’s moving is just a friend?” he asks again, turning his face towards me so that I catch a glimpse of his squinting, crystalline eyes. I shy away, turning my head in the opposite direction and fixing my attention to a distant oak tree.

   “Yeah, so?” I respond casually. 

   “So you have other friends to fill that void.”

   “I don’t think you heard me when I said ‘only friend’ earlier.”

   “Okay, then your best friend is moving out of the country.”

   “Woah woah, who said they’re my best friend?”

   “I think ‘only friend’ directly translates to ‘best friend’ in teenaged girl tongue.”

   “You should brush up on your studies Professor Pedophile because I don’t believe in best friends.”

   “Doesn’t matter if you believe in them or not. If you have an only friend then they are, by default, your best friend.”

   “I don’t believe in best friends and therefore I don’t have one,” I snap with a bit too much bite. “It’s just like religion. If I don’t believe in a god, I don’t have a god.” 

   I frown at my mud-crusted, bleached Converse sneakers. I’m making myself sound either really pretentious or really stupid, and neither is the impression I want to give him. But I can’t soften now, I’ve put up this tough, bitchy wall for too long.

   “But the question remains the same–– why do you care so much?” he asks smugly.

   “Why did you break your brother’s arm?” I reply, attempting to switch the topic and get a jab in at the same time. Sometimes it’s easier to be mean to the person you like.

   “I was drunk and mad.”

   Again, I inhale, about to retort, but I just end up exhaling in defeat. Damn him for being so blunt and unforgiving. But then it dawns on me.

   “Why are you so hell bent on trying to make this point about best friends?”

   “It’s fun getting a rise out of you.”

   I almost let him have it but I just can’t help myself. “Sure. Is that what you told your brother when you snapped his arm in half?”

   “Touche,” he says smoothly as he turns towards me and smiles. If the sun wasn’t starting to pierce through the clouds, I’d think it was his wide and white smile that lit up the atmosphere. I catch myself staring at him for a bit too long and shift my attention to the mountains, observing the pockets of heavenly light gracing sections of land in the distance. God, even the corners of his eyes crease perfectly when he smiles. My head feels weightless suddenly.

   I hop out of his truck and wipe the gray ash off of my already gray pants. I can feel his gaze burning into me. 

   “Leaving so soon?” he asks. I nod. “Shame, I was just starting to enjoy your company.” His words are laden with sarcasm and when I glance in his direction, I see a smirk plastered to his face.

   “Yes, well, the world is cold and life’s not fair,” I retort.

   “Indeed it is Old Wise One, indeed it is.” he chuckles. 

   I flash the faintest hint of a smile and say, “Thanks for the smokes Old Pedo One.”

   He smiles back, holding a hand up, gesturing a farewell. “Anytime.”

   I fling my bud into the trash and shove my quaking hands into my pockets. I feel light headed and light on my feet. Like my shoes are filled with iron rather than the usual lead.

   It’s probably just the nicotine.

[pasenast]

I’m not a truck guy but, this is how I’d own one.

[taylorbogut]

Big Bluetiful catches some air.

[moyalucom]

Ebay VERO Take-Down Procedure

Ebay VERO Take-Down Procedure

This guide examines the legality of the eBay VeRo take-down procedure. If you trade on eBay you may know what it is like when one of your competitors requests eBay to take-down your listings based on alleged violations of copyright. What happens when you follow eBay’s procedures to fight back but they don’t work? This guide explains what other legal options you have to stop your competitor doing…

[nikkafashionaccessory]

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[backyardjoust]

Hello everyone it is time for Match Number Four in this Junkyard Joust Home Game tournament! Three teams will travel down the track taking turns crashing into one another. At the end of each round, any cars that are upside down or sideways are eliminated. We play until only one team has any cars left. That team goes onto the playoffs. The losing cars are up for grabs! You can reply to a post or message me to claim a car, you pay postage and I send you a car! The rest are put into Little Free Libraries to have a new life; I may keep some favorites for future jousts or for The Collection.

Our first team is the Black Bettys!

Left to right we have:

Slikt Back, 33 grams, this car has a low back end that will turn into a ramp for cars following it.

Porsche 911, 34 grams

2019 Kia Stinger, 39 grams

Blac Pontiac, 38 grams and

La Troca, 44 grams

Next, straight outta Castle Greyskull, it’s the Masters of the Universe, with, from left to right:

Skeletor, 31 grams

He-Man, 39 grams

Beast Man, 61 grams

Battle Ram, 63 grams and

The Skeletor Van, at 66 grams

And finally we have the Silver Smashers, with:

Fast Fuse, 25 grams, another low-backed car that can cause problems for cars that follow it.

‘97 Corvette, 33 grams

Rodger Dodger, 33 grams

Appropriately enough we have the Chevy Silverado, at 46 grams, and finally,

Porsche Carrera, 54 grams

As always we start with the buffer car, Evil Weevil, to keep the contestants from just bouncing off the track stop.

Who do you think will win this match?

[karenlacorte]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: ❤️ Hot Wheels Toon'd '83 Chevy Silverado.

[thatsmykindanight]