"I'll let you know why they aren't the same," I say, after rediscovering my thirty-two ounce of Miller High Life. After dodging a new splash of soaring water, she erects her head and surprisingly her fuchsia fingernails slip like magnets away from each other in a sonorous snap, and - after lifting her same hand - she points at where I sit along the ledge. "Bad guys and sinners are pretty much one and the same thing," she says, intentionally glaring in my direction. Tonya deflects most of the water, showing impressive reflexes shielding herself by using hands and forearms as facial protection. He cackles and violently splashes a spray of water toward Tonya. Lauren." His suave, winsome grin grows several inches, conspicuously evincing his eagerness. They flicker, at light speed, other times conversely appearing to travel extra slowly. "We're not two bad guys," Tim argues, moving water with his outstretched arms, repeatedly widening them and carrying them inwardly again, doing so while kicking his legs. "Too immoral," Tonya warns, looking to Lauren with visible anxiety, until further vocalizing her genuine concerns: "I don't know, Vince. "Shit yea," Tim adds, as if similarly prunish. My fingers are beginning to wrinkle like my prune-shaped privates over here." "Tonya, you up for a game of Truth or Dare. Next I push myself up - using the flat surface of my slippery palms - and lift out of the water. Tonya watches my eyes, so I decisively flash her with a flirtatious smile. why don’t the ladies decide," I say, looking for my High Life and not instantly finding the fat, heavy bottle. "I'll go," Tim says, laughs uproariously. She whips her hair, flipping it left and right, inelegantly splashing her delicate, bony shoulders. Lauren raises the 70 cl bottle - pressing it to her lips, awkwardly - before draining the last of its contents. her parent’s) impressive estate about ten minutes ago. Other than a quick "Hello" to the both of us, she hasn’t said anything since our arrival. Tonya drank a shot or two of Raspberry Vodka, as well, which has barely loosened her up. Next she leers at Tonya, whom is vastly more coherent and nearly sober after drinking a can of Bud Ice. Her eyelids flutter - after she guzzles a few shots worth of liquor - and she continues to use her left arm for sustaining the Bacardi in air. She hoists the bottle above the pool's surface, as she wades in the six-feet-deep water, repeatedly pushing her right arm out to stay afloat. "Who is up for a game of Truth or Dare?" I ask, looking between Tim and the two girls inside of the pool, the back of my shoulders leaning against the ledge.
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