The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

BONUS: Panic! At The Roadtrip

In celebration of Amazon Prime Video's newest series Panic, I am thrilled to be teaming up with Amazon Prime Video and Wattpad to write this exclusive chapter that puts my characters from this story into the world of Panic!

I hope this chapter intrigues and inspires you to learn more about Panic. Visit the #PanicWritingContest on Wattpad for the chance to put your creative writing chops to the test and learn more about the show!

To find out more about the contest, prizes, and how to enter, check out the #PanicWritingContest here: wattpad.com/AmazonPrimeVideo

Don't forget to watch the series premiere on May 28th, only on Amazon Prime Video, here: http://primevideo.com/

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"Why are you staring at the ceiling, brother?" asks Hayden while opening up his trusty cooler.

A waft of some unidentified produce punches a hole through the nice new car smell that either says "new workplace bully," or "trust-fund kid about to get into a very bad accident that only the power of love and a totally average boy/girl can heal." I, for one, I'm glad to be rid of that smell.

"Just wondering why there is an author's note above us. As if God is telling us this ain't canon," I respond.

Brayden, who is driving the car - a brand new Tesla Model S that costs more than the entire road he is driving in, and that's more a statement about the road than about the car - squeals like something between a bullfrog and a pug during a hot summer day. "did god write something on the roof of my brand new doge-coin daddy car? cuz if he did, my hand ain't gonna tremble sending an invoice to the vatican. francis had it too good for too long. btw, what smells like crap?"

No, he didn't say "by the way," but btw. Bee tee doble-u. That takes more time than actual saying by the way. But I'm digressing. As for why we are in a car somewhere in the septic, gun-toting backwater that we call Texas, where even the GPS is chastising us for apparently falling over the edge of the known universe...I don't know. We were shoved into the car for a "club activity."

"Well," says Hayden, placing a small rancid-smelling egg on my hand from the back seat since he was so big that he literally takes the entire back seat, "thought we might get a little hungry on the way so I stayed up all night making deviled eggs. Even grinded my own paprika."

I swear to sweet baby Jesus with his little baby rattle that Brayden's entire body just twisted like a cat who got his tail pulled before braking the car to a screeching halt.

"so, lemme get this straight, you himbo," says Brayden with as little patience as his actual height. "ya thought it was a good idea to bring the stinkiest food you could find, stick it in a dank box, under the sun, for the last 8 hours, only to open it at the last possible second to maximize its rankness?"

Hayden tries to retreat into himself like a beefy ouroboros, but he can't quite disappear when you have your own gravitational pull.

"are they even organic eggs?"

"No," murmur Hayden, "but, aren't all eggs organic?"

If Brayden could stop the car again, he would. Not that it stops him from trying. "throw that non-organic, gmo having, whatever the opposite of free-range eggs out of my mobile vegan temple, pronto!"

"But, my handmade paprika!"

"screw your handmade paprika!" retorted Brayden. "my car, my rules. next time bring your own car. wanna play silly games with me, win silly prizes."

While they are arguing, I stuff the egg into my mouth. The paprika is too smokey.

"Well, I wanted to bring my truck, but you said, and I quote, 'them pondok freaks needs to know who daddy big bucks is.' Or have you forgotten?"