"A bet?" Race asked skeptically.
Katherine stood over him on Jack's couch, arms folded and mouth lifted in what might have been a smirk.
"That's right. A bet, Race."
She must have known he could have never turned it down. Racetrack Higgins didn't shy away from a good gamble. Or a bad one, for that matter.
"What... exactly are the terms again?" he asked, trying not to make it seem like he was only mildly curious, when in reality, his heart was going double time.
"Simple," and oh, that was definitely a smirk. "I bet you and Spot can't convince everyone you're a thing. For two months. You win, you get money."
"How much money?"
"A hundred."
Race nearly choked. "Each? You know how many cigarettes I could buy with that?"
"Exactly." Katherine had the look of someone who knew she was victorious. Damn her.
"What brought this on? Why do you think I can't believably fake-date my best friend?"
"Not important."
"That seems like it would be really important-"
"Do you want the money or not?" she asked, and Race snapped his mouth closed, because he hadn't been exaggerating his shock. A hundred dollars just for acting? He'd be rich.
"You're on," he grumbled, and accepted the perfectly manicured hand offered to him. "Does Spot know?"
"He's about to," she said cheerfully, as Spot Conlon himself strolled through the door to Jack's living room. "Hey, Spot! Guess what?"
~
Spot, to Race's surprise, agreed.
After making sure of the terms of the bet and ensuring that there was, indeed, one hundred dollars each on the line ("Damn, Plumber, I forgot how loaded you are"), he turned to Race and said, "So we're dating now."
"Guess so," Race replied. He cocked his head. "Um, what now, Katherine?"
"Don't look at me, boys. You're the ones making this thing work. Remember: believable. Also remember: money."
With that, she sashayed (yes, she freaking sashayed, like the diva she was,) out of Jack's living room.
Race turned to Spot. "What now?" he asked again.
Upon accepting the terms of the bet, he hadn't actually considered that he might have to, like, be physical with Spot. They were friends. Nothing more.
This was going to be great.
"What now?" Spot repeated. He reached for Race's hand, and Race was shocked at how warm Spot's hand was in his own.
"This might be a place to start," he said casually, as though he hadn't just sent Race's heart into his throat.
Race swallowed hard. "Yeah. Yeah, we should start here. Good."
It was at that moment that Crutchie wandered in, one hand occupied by his phone and the other latched securely onto his crutch.
"Have you guys seen--" He looked up and noticed how close Spot and Race were, and how their fingers were interlocked. He backed up. "You know, I think Jack needs- something. I'll go find him. Yeah, I'll do that."
