Itty Bitty Stories

The Third Wheel in the Two-Seater Truck

PART THREE TO SWITCHING ROOMS.

Yeah, Aubree and Jesse. I seriously love this couple. Hell, maybe I'll make a part four. Who knows. If you haven't read the first two (Switching Rooms and Fixing My Car and Our Relationship ---found in these Itty Bitty Stories) you don't really need to read them to understand what's going on. But it's preferred if you read the other two first! :)

The Third Wheel in the Two-Seater Truck

“There is absolutely no way that I’m lifting that.”

Jesse lets out an exasperated breath and wipes off some sweat from his forehead. “Tough shit. Find your strength and take it out to the truck.”

I take a look at the big, wooden table. It’s on it’s side, no legs on it so it’ll be easier to move. “Why did we buy such a big ass table?”

A grin cracks his face. “Bree, you’re not helping.”

“Sorry. I’ll only be able to lift this for like, two seconds.”

“It’s better than nothing, isn’t it?” He throws out there. “I’m so glad Mitchie is coming over here to help.”

Apparently, our apartment is now too far away from our college and work and blah blah blah, so we’re moving closer, into a new apartment complex. I think this is completely ridiculous. There’s no reason to move. Besides, I like this apartment. It holds so many different memories.

Halfway out the door, carrying the big lug of wood, I call out, “Is it lunchtime yet?”

“No, Aubree,” Jesse huffs back, but I can tell he’s smiling. 

He waddles backwards, towards the truck, and hops onto it, all while still holding the thousand ton table. I cock my head to the right to stare at him in disbelief. “How did you do that?”

“Magic, babe.”

He drags the rest of the table into the truck so it fits snug between the legs I propped up earlier, and our fridge still filled with food that we didn’t bother to take out. He shuffles a couple of boxes out of the way to make more room. “I’m going to get more boxes.”

“You do that,” He calls back.

I move back into the little spacey apartment, grabbing a small box and putting it on top of a bigger one. These are two of the few boxes I can actually carry. Jesse put so much crap in them that you can barely lift them. I hoist them up, groaning, and take them out to the truck.

My eyes glance to the dark blue tiny two-seater truck that’s hooked to the trailer. It’s the only truck that has a hook on it. Mitchie’s mom had the truck, so she let us use it for the day. Since that day when he fixed my shitty car (which I got rid of, by the way), we’ve been back together for almost three months now. I still don’t know who Mitchie is. I’ve never met him before, but apparently they’ve known each other for a while. I think he’s a brother of one of his friends.