Page 15 of Finance Bros

“You know,” I mumble. “Like he gets haircuts and works out.”

“Uh-huh.”

I don’t say anything else. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I take the remote from Kaylin and start flipping through video thumbnails on the screen. She was right. There’s no shortage of people who want to teach me how to gamble and win big. It’s probably not much different than investing in the stock market, and I’m not too bad at that.

“So, you’re saying he grew up.”

“We’ve all grown up,” I mumble.

“Have we though?”

I drop the remote and look at her. “What do you want me to do?”

She holds up both hands. “Nothing. I’m just throwing out ideas. If you’re okay with having bad blood, I totally support that.”

“Thanks, Kay. Really appreciate you putting it that way.”

“But I mean, for real—after all this time, don’t you forgive him?”

Forgive Ryan?Have I ever thought of it like that? I mean, hewasbasically a kid. A dumb teenager fucked up on narcotics. Forgiveness isn’t really the issue. Back then, it was more like I couldn’t hang with him if that was the way he really felt about me—aboutguys. Not when all my friends thought queer people were sexual deviants—aberrations—freaks.

What would I be forgiving him for? Lying to me? Betraying me? Manipulating me? No, that doesn’t sound right. Maybe what really upset me was discovering he wasn’t who I thought he was. And then…what would that say about me?

“Like you said, it was a long time ago.”

“And he was a kid…” she reminds me.

“So was I,” I argue.

“Oh my God, never mind, I don’t want to talk about this with you anymore. You brought it up, you know?”

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“Why? It’s not like you ever make up your mind about anything. I’m sure avoiding Ryan for the rest of the summer is by far the easiest thing you can do. You won’t even have to think. You just have to not be an asshole.”

Whoa.“You sure you want to stay for dinner?”

She doesn’t say anything, just selects a video and presses play.

By midnight,I’m down to fifty bucks, and I’m getting desperate. Gambling is fun, and I was doing well for a few hours, but I have to call it quits. I’ve still got a shot at turningthis challenge around with fifty dollars, but if I lose that, I’m out in one night. Yeah, I get that I’m fucked.

Logging into ChatGPT, hoping for some inspiration at a minimum, if not a fantastic idea, I ask the internet to give me three ways to turn fifty dollars into ten grand in three months.

“Buy vintage t-shirts?” I say to the computer screen like it’s personally offended me. Would I know a vintage t-shirt if I saw one? Do I know someone who would? My friends are more mid-century modern. Maybe Jake’s girlfriend? She dresses kind of quirky.

The escalation of the t-shirt scheme is extreme, too. It’s got me turning over refurbished computer parts in two weeks and then rapidly scaling up to limited edition sneakers—like I have time to look for those. As if. But it’s either that or dog walking. I might consider dog-sittingsince I can do that in my time off, but when I plug that in as an option, the yield isn’t more than a couple hundred a week—once I start getting clients, which fifty dollars wouldn’t help much with.

I go to bed alone and stressed, thinking about everything Kaylin said before the food got here, especially this whole concept of forgiving Ryan for a dumb feeling he had when we were fourteen. I really thought she was going to tell me I owe him an apology for how shitty I’ve been with him ever since, and I think if she had, I wouldn’t necessarily be tossing and turning now.

I probably would have agreed under protest—no harm, no foul. If an apology would smooth the waters for any future interactions, it might be worth it, but forgiveness is like—way different for some reason. Do I just walk up to him and say, hey, asshole. I forgive you?Would he want that?

But truly—do I forgive him? I’m decently bent out of shape for someone who supposedly got over something years ago.

I don’t know. Now that he doesn’t look like someone whowashed up on the shore of Venice Beach, I don’t really see him as the kid I used to know. The one I spent most of my childhood with as best friends and then bitter enemies. Is enemy the right word for it? For the way I hate him?

Do I stillhatehim? It’s obvious there are strong feelings there, otherwise it wouldn’t be keeping me up.

Whythe fuckis Ryan Vale still keeping me up at night? Is seeing me at work every day fucking him up, too? Is he lying in bed right now somewhere with the sheets thrown off running his hand down his bare chest and stressing? Are his abs super cut now, too? I feel my way past mine, which could use some work and fewer carbs.

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