Kameron Ford can lick the bottom of my shoe.
No, really, I’d pay almost anything to see my childhood rival on his knees, ankle in hand, with my foot dangling in his smug little face.
And I’m pretty sure if you asked him, he wouldn’t mind me tasting his boots.
Sounds a little much, but it’s been like this since we were old enough to talk, and even then I’m sure it was a race as to who spoke first. I’m pretty sure we were born to be this way, and in the three decades since, nothing has changed.
For those reasons alone it shouldn’t surprise me when Kam pulls one of his classic moves and forces us to compete in yet another bet. Only this time, the winner isn’t subjected to something like our usual Designated Driver duty or eating a lime off the floor.
This time, it’s for each other. It’s to end the undertones of tension that neither of us can deny, and put the neverending torment to rest.
But in the end, the real question still remains…
Is this just another bet, or are we playing for keeps?
