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The corpse of their relationship isn't even as cold as the warm beer in Matt's cup before half of Dillon knows Julie broke up with him. He knows money's changing hands, that football's not the only thing they bet on in Texas. There have been pools going since they won the championship, with every major and minor event recorded for posterity and potential heartbreak. Riggins is the man behind it all with a little help from Smash for promotion, but if there's one thing Matt's been sure of since the summer began, Julie didn't care about bets and she sure as hell stopped caring about him. The rest of the party is a blur, lights spinning like he's on some sort of carnival ride he can't get off, stomach queasy and head pounding. He stops drinking beer because he's afraid he'll throw up in the swimming pool and Coach'll think he's got butterflies about the game instead of the fact that the first and only girl he's ever loved just left him for a guy who doesn't even have a name, just a nationality. "He doesn't even look Swedish," he tells Landry on the way home, probably for the forty-seventh time that night. "Swedes are blond with blue eyes and built like skiers. He looks like…He looks like…He looks like the guy that my girlfriend's hot for." "Ex-girlfriend." "Thanks. Thanks, Landry. That's very…that's very helpful. Thank you." Matt thumps his head on the back of the seat. "You know, you're supposed to be my friend. Offer support in my time of need." "The way I hear it, you've needed ever since you guys started dating, and that's not about to change now." "You're heartless, aren't you? It's like some demon came along and just stole your heart and made you like this just to torture me." Matt sighs. "You and the Swede. Damn." "You know, I put money on this for you." "You what?" Landry shrugs. "There was a betting pool. I figured there wasn't a reason I couldn't take advantage of it. I put fifty bucks on you and Julie to break up tonight, Julie to do it. Odds were seven to one. We raked in some serious cash." "We? How is this we?" "Well, c'mon, Matt. I'm your best friend." Landry smiles as he parks in front of Matt's grandmother's house. "I couldn't make money off your pain and not share it, could I?" "You're sick, Landry." "Four hundred bucks, Matty. Are you telling me you're turning that down?" "Four hundred?" "Well, minus my original fifty and my half." "So I get a hundred and fifty." Matt sighs. "Not exactly a cure for a broken heart." "No," Landry agrees with a smile. "But it's better than just a broken heart, isn't it?"
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