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    Summary

    Ed nods. “I bet that you can’t steal a boy of my choice’s wallet and get away with it.”

     “Sure, you’re on. Which boy?”

    “That boy,” Ed says, pointing to someone behind Harry. Harry smirks and spins around to see who his victim is but the smile is wiped from his lips when he spots the boy.

    This boy is in tight clothes, jean high-wasted shorts frayed at the ends that only just covers the bottom of his fat ass, black crop top exposing a soft tummy and delicious hips, shiny silver ring through his navel. He’s in high heels and he’s got thick thighs, tan as hell. The bangles on his wrist chime when they knock together with his wild gestures. Harry realizes belatedly the boy is with someone, many someones, and is telling a story, dramatic if the looks on the four girls’ faces are anything to go by. In his back pocket, Harry can make out the bulge of what has to be a wallet.

     Harry swallows hard and turns back to Ed slowly. “Fine.”

     

     
    Harry only accepts the bet to show Ed he can. Probably wasn't one of his most intelligent decisions.

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