SLAM. Trip stood up over the box, fists pressing into his lower back. He let out a mighty sigh through clenched teeth.

“Th’hell do you have in here? Bricks?”

“Books, dude. My books.”

“You’re not in school anymore, nerd. What do you need books for?”

Scott looked at him like he was daft. “Why the hell else would I need them? To read them, dick. They’re mine. Why wouldn’t I have them?”

Trip returned the favor. “You’ve read all of these ten times, you thick fuck. How about you carry all the shitty TP you’ve used in your life around with you too? Get a fucking Kindle.”

Scott grabbed two cold ones from the fridge and tossed one to his big brother. They sat down heavily on a couple boxes and took a long, icy pull, men and cans both dripping with sweat. “Go buy me one and I’ll use it to read the newsp*BUUUURP*aper. Like hell am I moving anywhere without my books. I like holding them. Having them around.”

“Yeah, and chicks must dig them too, huh?” Trip smirked.

Scott chuckled. “You know, the good ones do.”