“Where the fuck are the lovebirds?” Keaton brings the rim of his beer to his mouth. “Don’t know,” I answer, resting my head back against the top of the spa and gazing up at the sky. “Nonstop” by Drake is thumping around us loudly. “Pretty sure King is trying to get her pregnant.” Keaton splashes me and I rear forward, laughing. “Not funny, asshole. I’m not ready to be an uncle.” “Well, to be fair.” I swipe the water off my face. “I’m pretty sure her having a baby would make us all an uncle, not just you.” Keaton pushes up from the edge of the spa and climbs out, flipping me off. “Fuck you.”
