Sweet Summertime.

"I can't believe this, I'm such an idiot!"

Katie's friend, Dylan, was groaning over the line to her as she held her cell up to her ear. "Don't worry, Dyl, I'll be there in twenty with everything."

"I'm glad you learned something about cars, Katie Jean. Otherwise I might be in a spotta trouble monetarily and parentally."

"You're the one with a damn truck and you don't know anything?"

"Pa's an accountant, missy, and you have one too."

"Your Ma's a mechanic. And that's beside the point."

"... But I don't want to learn from a woman!"

God help the girl you marry, Katie thought, laughing as she promised she'd be around soon before hanging up. She checked her bed, ensuring the gas can was in the back and full, secured next to her small toolbox, before shifting the car into reverse. She called out to her father, who was unloading hay from the back of his trailer, that she was going out to get Dylan out of a bind.

Her father just laughed, "You need to teach that boy a bit about cars!"

Katie rolled her eyes, smiling as she flicked on the radio station and fiddled with the dial for a minute before finding her favorite- a perfect mix of alternative and country. She nodded her head along as she pulled on a ball cap and her sunglasses, windows down and braids aflyin' while she turned onto the two lane highway. There was never a need for a larger one.

Twenty four minutes later (or, about six songs and eight commercials), Katie sidled behind her best friend's truck and cut the engine. Dylan burst out from the door, snatching her up in a tight hug before she bumped her knee against his. She slipped around to her truck's bed, smiling over at him as she handed him a gas can, "This all you need?"

"I think, I dunno. Could you just check everything?"

"Not unless you're buying the next two movies days and you quit looking at my arse every time I bend over."

"Hey, everyone thinks we're dating, so no girl's will go with me."

Katie laughed, rolling her eyes as she poured gas into the truck. A minute or two later, she twisted the top closed and covered it with the circular metallic flap. "Start 'er up?"

Dylan did as he was asked, and the truck sputtered to an uneasy life.

"She's just old, Dyl. Gotta die out in a year if you don't start taking care of her."

"Isn't that what I have you for?"

"You're gonna need a bus pass sooner than you think, boy."