Uptown Boy

"Ashton, get your fucking lazy arse out of there and help me out!" Michael called from the door of the garage, distracting Ashton from his thoughts. "What?" He spat, running his grease covered hands through his messy hair.

It wasn't as if Ashton didn't like working at the car repair place. He did, it gave him enough money to support himself and not trouble his mum and it was around his school timings, not to mention the fact that Michael worked there too. He and Michael had been best friends forever, both living on the wrong side of town, working for the repair shack in a town on the rarest of maps, they certainly had a 'reputation.' Most people on the back streets of this town did, but Ashton knew they were pretty much harmless.

But what Ashton hated about his job, was the fact that he had to put up with the snootiest, most annoying brats with expensive cars from uptown, since this was the only repair shop Clover had. And boy did he hate those kids. With their branded clothes and fucking Italian suede shoes and fancy phones and jewellery and watches and cars, they only came across as spoilt, ungrateful pricks to Ashton, who drove around a dump beat truck which barely ever worked and walked around with grease stained old misfits t-shirts and was as content as he could be.

"These kids' car broke down, we need to bring it back into the shop." He could hear the tint of annoyance in his best friend's voice, and Ashton knew exactly then which part of town his new clients were from. Not having to make his best friend endure any more self-righteous rich brat pain, Ashton walked towards the garage door, only to find Michael trying to push in a fucking Porsche.

Sure, the people from this part of Clover- Hoverbrooke, had a lot of money, but Ashton hadn't seen many youngsters travelling in Porsches. But somehow, his eyes weren't even on the car, or Michael, but directly on the man in the front seat.

He was probably the prettiest boy Ashton had ever seen. His hair was quiffed and feathery, the dirty blond coloured locks carelessly sprawled up, like the traditional Hoverbrooke quiff. He had pretty blue eyes and pretty high cheekbones and pretty pink lips and Ashton was pretty sure he would've started drooling if he could see what the man would look like if he smiled. He almost frowned at the fact that his lips were pressed into a thin line, until his even prettier voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Um, you need some help back there?" He asked softly, and Ashton could see Michael's eyes bugging out of his skull, because no one- no one- from Hoverbrooke was genuine enough to ask if they could help. Ashton would've thought he was from another neighbourhood if the girl next to him hadn't spoken up.

"Jesus Luke, if he needed help, wouldn't he ask you?" She asked, clearly annoyed, throwing a lock of straight black hair away from her face. Luke, (Fucking pretty name) looked quite dishevelled. "C'mon Ellie, I mean-"

"Luke, it's his job, and he doesn't need any help, and its your fault that your damn car broke down so we can't go for Josh's birthday party!" She complained, and Ashton was sure he wasn't going to like her very much. Luke sighed. "Ellie, it isn't his job to push my car into the shop, I mean-"

"Mr Hemmings," Michael interrupted, bringing Ashton away from his train of thoughts. "It's alright, it isn't your job, but it is his. "Ash, little help out here?" He said, eyes widening at Ashton who was still ogling whom he could only peg as the prettiest boy in the world.

"Uhm, yeah, I'm coming," Ashton said, trying to get his eyes of Luke as he helped Michael push the Porsche into the shop, Michael asking Luke what needed to be done. "If we work on it today, it should be done by tonight, yeah Ash?" Michael asked, but Ashton almost didn't hear him, because Luke was out of the car and he could see what he was wearing and he was pretty sure his heart stopped.

His black pants clung tightly onto his thighs, and he could only picture what he'd look like if he just turned so he could see what could only be the greatest fucking arse he'd ever seen. He had a white shirt on too, white and black braces- fucking braces- and he couldn't think Luke could get any hotter.