I’m having a blast writing these boys.
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The golden-haired Max stood alongside Wad, and though he was an inch taller than the former rugby captain, both donned similar tracksuits. Lubo couldn’t help but notice that he and Honza wore the same style and brand; his suit was royal blue, while Honza’s was gray and white. Max wore black, while the pale red Wad put on that morning did wonders for his russet skin.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” said Lubo. “We’re all a bunch of Gopnik’s,”
“I blame our parents,” Honza quipped, pushing his glasses up as the other two approached. “When did youns get here?”
“Five minutes ago,” said Wad, pulling Honza’s hand to bump shoulders.
Lubo pulled out his camera and snapped a photo of the train.
“Is that a CyberShot?” Max asked.
“Yep.” Lubo took a closer picture of the Amtrak logo. “My dad got it for me since I saved him from paying for four years of med school.”
“How many megapixels?” Max wondered.
“I don’t know,” the pretty man shrugged and handed it to him. “I just point and shoot.”
Honza smirked. “Troglodyte,”
“Yep.” Lubo concurred. “I’m a basic bitch.”
Max handed the camera back and brought out his.
“This is a Nokia ninety-three,”
Honza took hold of it. “This plays music, right?”
“Yeah,” Max replied. “It’s got a Symbian operating system,”
“Aw, man,” said Honza, handling it. “Can you film with it, too?”
“Yeah, but data storage is for shit,” Max said, frowning.
Wad glanced at it. “Can it connect to the internet?”
“Yeah,” Max said, then frowned again. “But the bandwidth sucks,”
Wad looked at Honza. “I got me a welfare Razor,”
“Me too, dude,” said Honza, grinning.
Lubo elbowed the muscular blond.
“How much did that Nokia cost, Maxi-Pad?”
“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “I got it for being on the valedictorian list,”
Wad, Honza, and Lubo shared glances.
“Well, smell me,” Lubo teased.
Honza shoved his hands into his pockets.
“He’s more than a himbo, Loob,”
The choppy loudspeaker emitted a buzz that made all four young men wince. Then, a uniformed conductor jumped from the train and pulled out miniature stairs between two silver-plated cars.
Lubo led them toward the train.
“What kind of music you got on there, Maxi-Pad?”
“I listen to The-X,” he answered. “That should tell you,”
Wad spoke over his shoulder. “It’s the only station that plays Interpol,”
“Is that the band with the tone-deaf singer?” Lubo asked.
“Paul Banks is a fucking poet, man,” said Wad.
“I like Interpol,” Honza said, climbing the steps. “The Editors are better, though,”
“I got into She Wants Revenge,” Max said. “Until my mom started listening to them.”
“Man, mine listens to that CD constantly,” Wad groused. “I’m like, mom, you’re not in high school anymore. Let that shit go.”
The others laughed while following Honza past two rows of cushioned seats.
“All them sound too much like Joy Division,” Lubo said.
“Silversun Pickups are good, too,” Max said.
Honza stopped in the aisle. “I can feel your stare, Loob,”
“I hope so, son.” Lubo’s breath tickled his ear. “They wrote a whole ass song about a lazy eye.”
Wad snorted. “That’s cold-blooded,”
“I know, dude,” Max agreed, laughing. “What the hell?”
Lubo said, “All I know is that youns have taste for shit,”
“Sorry, it’s not Biggy, Tupac, or Mary J Blige,” Honza said, matching his ticket number to a seat in the back.
All four chose seats next to one another. Max and Wad turned their two chairs around to face theirs while Lubo built a table-like mound in the legroom between them.
Honza stacked their bagged snowboards in the overhead.
“Those glasses are killing me, Honza,” Lubo proclaimed. “And if you aim them at the sun, I’m sure they’ll kill some ants, too.”
“He’s right, man,” said Wad. “Those are thicker than my grandpop’s,”
Honza shrugged. “I can’t wear contacts on the train,”
“Will they blow up like breast implants do on planes?” Wad asked.
Max widened his blue eyes. “Implants do that?”
“No, breast implants do not explode on airplanes.” Lubo scolded Wad. “Stop telling the boy shit like that,”
Honza cracked, “Just because yours didn’t explode, Loob,”
Max and Wad snickered, yet Lubo continued undaunted.
“My titties are one hundred percent real,” he sassed. “And I wouldn’t be smiling, Wad. You’ll be in a training bra after a year without rugby.”
They crowded like schoolchildren.
“You want the window seat, Magoo?” Lubo asked.
“That’s Mister Magoo to you,” said Honza. “And no, the aisle’s fine,”
Lubo pushed him aside and sat by the window.
“You take the window, Maxi-Pad,” Wad said, arm extended.
Max sat across from Lubo.
“You get motion sickness?” he asked.
“Nah, I hit the rowing machine this morning, then chugged an entire 64-ounce water.” Wad sat beside him. “I’m going to be pissing every ten minutes.”