“Fuck me.” Mateo sighed, pulling a leather wallet out of the back pocket of his shorts and sifting through it to slap a crisp fifty-dollar bill in his girlfriend’s hand. “HA!” Nat snapped the bill tauntingly. “Woah, hey now,” Frankie interjected. “What the fuck, guys?” I gaped at my friend. “Did you make bets on us sleeping together?” “I knew you wouldn’t,” Nat boasted. “I know my best friend.” “I know my best friend,” Mateo added. “Pike, I was rooting for you.” “Not exactly up to me.” Frankie scratched the back of his neck. “Where’d you two run off to just now?”
