the bet

“Oi, oi!” Mateus jogs over, his own dark skin glistening with sweat and humidity but no more pink than usual. He’s never done anything other than tan and tan evenly, the Brazilian asshole. “Found our fourth—where’s Nils?”“Dominating on third court,” Ines says. “Those poor Americans never had a chance.”“Thought they were Canadian.”“No, no. Accent’s all wrong. American.” Ines nods at her own conclusion before sliding her sunglasses onto the top of her head to get a good look at Mateus’ companion, a short-ish man she’s never seen before. His hair is a shock of orange, and his fair skin is going to give him hell on the beach, especially if he keeps wearing t-shirts and shorts like he is now.--or, the one where shouyou's friends make a bet on how long it'll be before he gets with this mysterious tobio guy.