Justin’s POV Dinner was a boring affair, aside from the food fight that Cody Bell began. It had ended up with him, Mikey, Brian, Ben and myself being sent out the hall to shower before coming back to clean the mess we’d made. To be fair, Mikey only took part of the blame so I wouldn’t be stuck with my psychotic ex-boyfriend. That and I think he likes Ben, it’s kinda sad really. So here we are, in the communal showers. The water is lukewarm and I’m not impressed. I need scald-your-skin-hot water, not warm-yet-bordering-on-melted-ice-cap-cold. I throw a sideways glance at my friend when I hear him shriek, loudly. He obviously sees my look of confusion as he turns about, showing the newly made handprint on his ass, a giggle escaping his lips. I roll my eyes, something I seem to be doing a lot. I’m in the process of squirting my fifty-dollar-a-bottle shampoo onto my hair when it’s literally yoinked out my hand. I blink water droplets out my eyes as I look about for the thief. Only to come face to face with the chest of Brian Kinney. Damn me for being so short. “Kinney… shampoo… now…” Short or not, I’m not the person you want to steal from as I thrust out my hand in an attempt to grab it. He sneers as he moves it out my grasp and I take a deep breath, mentally counting to ten before glaring up at him, grabbing his dick and crushing it. “You will give me my fucking shampoo or I will make sure you never fucking sit down again, hear me?” Brian squeaks and nods, handing me back the bottle. I flash a killer smile and go back to lathering my hair, ignoring the incredulous looks on the faces of the other boys. Stepping into the changing area, I tug on a pair of faded black jeans with holes in the knees before pulling on my converse; one red and one green. Still towelling my hair, I head across the campsite towards the mess hall, smiling at a few of my group who are sprawled beside the newly made fire which heats my naked torso even in passing. It’s a nice evening, I’d rather be sat on a log by the fire with my friends, sketching as Debbie and Vic sing songs. I’m barely inside the room before the towel is ripped from my hands mid rub by Cody, only to be replaced by a mop. It’s common knowledge that if there’s one thing Justin Taylor does not do, it’s cleaning. That’s what our housekeeper is for. Sighing in an over dramatic kind of way, I huff loudly as I slap the waterlogged mop head onto the wooden floor in annoyance. The only time I ever clean is at Scout camp, only because I don’t think they’d appreciate me bringing Judy, my Brazilian dyke housekeeper/nanny with me. Mikey’s the next to arrive, Ben close behind him. Mikey stands on his tippy-toes to slip an unlit cigarette behind my ear, a wide grin on his face. “Just in case, you know,” is his explanation as I kiss his forehead. Then I slap him on the ass with a wet mop. He slaps me back with his own. Ben joins in. Then Cody. Can you tell we’re not going to get much done?