It was something Grayson didn’t see very often in his neck of the woods. A foreign looking- not to mention expensive - vehicle zooming full-speed up the dirt drive. The cloud left in it’s wake hung in the air, heavy and ominous. Green orbs narrowed in distaste as the teen’s head shook back and forth. As far as he knew, they weren’t expecting any visitors. Tossing the last bale of hay into the barn, he clambered into his old rust bucket and cranked the engine.
“Ma, who’s comin’?” He called out to the figure on the porch, slamming the door shut and running a hand across his sweaty brow.
“Never you mind!” Came her unusual stern reply, finger wagging towards the door. “Go get cleaned up, Grays. You’re filthy! Go on.”
His head quirked to the side, brows raising curiously. No. Something was definitely going on. His mother, Diane, was in her best Sunday dress. Golden trestles of hair neatly pinned up, make-up light and refreshing. A full glass of ice cold sweet tea cupped in an elegant hand, causing the male’s mouth to water. Reaching for it, Grays earned a good wack across his own dirt laden one.
“Hey!” He croaked out, mouth hanging open in shock. “Who’s so important that I can’t- I mean- I’ve been in the barn all day-”
The woman didn’t get a chance to reply, an excited squeal leaving her lips as the car pulled to a stop behind him. Turning on his heel, the source of Gray’s current frustration made itself known: petite, nothing but a mess of blonde hair, and reeking of money. Plenty of it, if the fancy name brand clothes she dawned were any indication. The girl’s nose scrunched up, dainty manicured hands smoothing over her prestine white dress with a huff.
Their gazes locked, and Grays could plainly see the disgust in the girl’s scrutinous eyes as they made their way down his frame. She seemed to mentally take note of every bit of dirt (and lord knew what else) that seemed to cover his body: coating his garments, crusted beneath nails, and smeared with pirspiration across Gray’s forehead. He mirrored her trail, carelessly untied boots shuffling in the dirt, clammy hands wiped across a grease-stained tank before being shoved inside battered jeans pockets.
“Are you shittin’ me?” He yelped in disbelief, not caring who this intruder was, but knowing she sure as hell wasn’t welcome!
“Grayson Jay! Shower, now!”
