Shameless

- What are you waiting for, big boy? You can't, can you?

- Shut up.

A Hopper with shimmering blond hair shaved at the sides, a wild mullet long to the nape of his neck and perfectly curled, focused his focus on a single bubble that only he could feel, rhythmically lifting his arms and torso with the methodical movements of the sandy ground. His tall youthful body was attractive to anyone, broad shoulders, thick and strong arms for working his upper limbs a lot, bare chest showing the lack of a shirt, poorly defined abdomen, skin that was normally white, was reddened by a full day at the Californian beach. Face exasperating her focus, her eyes were shielded by dark glasses propped up her nose, her tongue constantly wetting the corner of her lips despite the salty taste of sweat flooding her taste buds.

- You're going to lose badly, huh Hop...sixteen...

- Twenty...twenty-one... Shut the fuck up, Horowitz... twenty-two...twenty-three...twenty-four....I'm winning...- His voice it came out muffled, speeding up her nimbly bending movements. Her hair ruffled in the hot breeze, her shirt gradually loosened from the waistband on her raised shorts. The body seemed to weigh twice as much with the sand burning in the palms of the big hands and the balls of the feet. - Twenty-five...last chance, Joyce...twenty-six...you can still give up...twenty-seven...twenty-eight.

- Twenty-two... even if it kills me, Jim... twenty-three...

Joyce Horowitz, who is always on bad terms. The thick brownish strands were long at the nape of the neck, the front short subtly with the bangs falling into his large eyes, these that captivated any boy like a rainbow captivates a child, small stature with little body development visible behind those baggy, masculine robes , owner of the most contagious and mesmerizing smile in the world. She is desired, absurdly desired, by most of the boys her age and at this moment especially, wearing short shorts valuing her hips and a leather jacket over her bra.

- Are they still making that stupid bet? - The bored questioning of Benny Hammond arose in the circle that surrounded the two teenagers described above, out of the corner of his eye he noticed John Harrington's glazed eyes in the direction of Joyce's chest. God, if it was Jim... Reaching up behind the boy, he slapped his head hard. - Do you know what respect is, motherfucker? No wonder her partner at Lover's Lake is the left hand. - Dictated between cut thanks to the cigarette still unlit in lips, but it would not be enough to interfere the irritable and threatening tone persuade in the skinny body, the hairs of the chest standing up by the shock wave in its body. Asshole... Hiding his big fists in the pocket of his cyan shorts, he sighed smiling with white teeth at the glimpse, returning to face his friends in the sand doing push-ups and letting out a nasal laugh. - Come on, Hop, chest to the fucking floor! Learn from Horowitz.

Rather than a typical curse or irritable snort, the blonde leaned his entire body weight on his left arm during the process of raising his right arm high, the middle finger and thumb being the only ones raised, his flushed, sweaty face staring at the Hammond with his colossal height. The thin, pink lips of the police chief-to-be babbled the count, Benny wasn't able to fully see his friend's blue eyes, but you can bet it's trying to penetrate his being completely, as if yearning for his head pierced with two perfectly realized holes as the main course, a fine line of sweat running down his straight nose.

- Okay, okay! It is no longer here who spoke, relax! Just giving moral support.

- Shut up, Benny! - They pronounced in unison, the breath getting scarce each time more visible identical to crystal clear water. The boy's movement was agile and well trained, repeating them by heart and skipping without ceremony or difficulty, however it was not enough to let his arms stop trembling; Now, the girl contained clumsy movements, slow and forced, her knees wanting to fall, all her limbs burning from her procrastination time reaching the limit, her palms generating irritating bubbles mixed with the small grains of sand between fingers.