“Well, you’ve gained approximately eight quadrillion new Insta followers,” Amber said, raising an eyebrow at her phone. “I gotta say, c**k Boy photographs well. He sure sounds like an ice-cold piece of work, though. Why can’t you ever date anyone with a pleasant personality?” This last was muttered low enough that Rafi could pretend not to hear it.
“Pass me another beer,” Rafi said, eyeing his own phone with disfavor. Supposedly, he and Amber were watching a hockey game; it was probably some symptom of modern life that they were both paying more attention to their phones than the TV screen. Amber tossed him the beer, and Rafi nearly fumbled it, distracted by the text message that was just popping up.
“That was smooth,” Amber said. “Who are you texting so passionately? Pea c**k?”
“I wish
