Page 100 of Scrimmage

I stop at the door and turn back around, clutching the gifts in my arms. “Come.”

He looks up at me. “What?”

“To Cuntsgiving,” I huff. I’m already embarrassed that I asked in the first place. “Come.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Maybe.”

“I’m just being nice. We’re gonna invite Alexi so I figured we had to invite you, too. Ya know, semantics.” I say quickly. “Come, or don’t. I don’t care. I’m gonna go inside. Don’t think that the sketch means anything. I still hate you, Golden Boy.”

“You too, slut.”

I go back inside before Koda has even stood up. I head straight to my room, crawl into my bed, and run my hands over the sketch pad. The car was convenience, but this is a gift. A real one. I can’t find a way that this is manipulative. I have a one track mind and it’s directly related to sex, but this isn’t that at all. He was going to hand deliver it. If I hadn’t been outside what would he have done?

I turn my phone back on and stare at the contact I was debating on calling. In one deep breath I exit and pull up Koda’s number. Micropenis. He’s getting in my fucking head. I toss it to the side and stew in my regret on inviting him to Cuntsgiving. Maybe. He said maybe. I hope he fucking forgets.

Chapter Thirteen

Ashland

Penny sits on the edge of her bed confused as fuck. I recount the story to her of Koda inviting us to do laundry, leaving out the fact that I drew him a picture, or that he bought me a present. She just came out of the studio after several hours, and her hands are covered in paint.

“We’re supposed to what?”

I’m splayed out on the hardwood floor. Unlike my trainwreck of a room, Penny’s is just messy enough to be cute. She has cohesive decor on the walls with pictures and art accompanied by a color scheme that matches. She says if you make it feel like home then you feel more in control of your life. My room is dark and black like a funeral, so I guess I'm at home in a coffin.

“Koda said we could use his washer and dryer.”

“To do laundry?”

“Yeah.”

“This sounds less like laundry and more like getting dicked down on the washer while it’s on the spin cycle.”

“Add it to the list,” we say in tandem, descending into a fit of laughter.

The list is an imaginary place where all of our icks, funny sayings, and anything we find interesting goes.

“Nope. I told him to leave us alone there.”

She scrunches her face up. “And he agreed to that?”

“I had all night to think about it. It makes sense. Make me think he’s wrapped around my finger when he’s really just keeping tabs on me. Free washer and dryer,” I say like it’s all so simple.

“Don’t you think you might be blowing this out of proportion? Maybe he just saw you won a big award and didn’t know how to say congratulations without being a dick. I mean, you guys have sex.”

“He showed up at one in the morning and didn’t want sex,” I remind her.

“Shit, yeah it’s weird.” She starts picking clothes up off of the floor. “Let’s fuck his shit up.”

It takes two hours to get ready. Driving to his condo is a bigger task than we anticipated. Penny had to get in first and I had to shove the door closed, hoping I didn't kill her in the process. As we stand on his front porch and knock, we compose ourselves.

When Koda opens the door he looks between us. “Where’s the laundry?”

“In the car,” I answer nonchalant while Penny smiles innocently. Little does he know.

“Okay.” He looks between us again. “Do you need help?”

“Oh my God, that would be great!” Penny is the best actress I have ever fucking met. I can’t do anything except for smirk, and Koda knows something is wrong.

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