Page 106 of Scrimmage

“It’s annoying.”

I recall my earlier conversation with Penny. “It is. They mean well, though. Sometimes others can see the spiral before we do.”

He leans against the dryer across from me. Another all too real conversation with Koda.

“Did you learn that in therapy?”

I tuck my hands behind my back and avoid his gaze. “I did.”

“Mine said something similar.”

“You have a therapist?”

“Had. I stopped in high school.”

“Wow, your parents must have cared about you,” I tease.

“I don’t think that’s fair to say about yours. Most parents just don’t know how to help because they’re trying to figure it out just like we are.”

“You think I want you to hit me because my parents were healthy people just trying to navigate life? Did I hear that right?”

His face reddens, and he lowers his voice. “I’m not hitting you…Am I? I thought you liked it.”

“I do. I’m a masochist,” I placate him. “I was just fucking with you. I’m sure they were doing their best.”

If their best was getting high, soaking themselves in alcohol, and beating us until we were almost dead, then they were doing a damn good job. It makes me start to question it all though. I didn’t know my mom’s parents. I knew my paternal grandma for one summer because my dad dropped us off and didn’t come back until someone dropped his sorry ass off on the front lawn. She died that fall. She had been the only person who had been nice to me like that until Penny. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t realize Koda is leaned over me with his forearm against the wall until he grips my chin and forces me to look at him.

“Is there anything you don’t like?” The air is charged with sexual tension.

“Orange.”

“The color?”

“The color. Orange juice, unless it’s real. When things ‘taste’ orange. It doesn’t taste like fucking orange. It tastes like manufactured bullshit.”

“Usually people say that about banana.”

“I don’t expect it to taste like banana. Citrus is a different animal entirely. Doesn’t belong in candy. It’s wrong.”

Something inside of him awakens. “It’s wrong?”

Oh. It’s a trigger, but the good kind. I pressed the right button.

“Yeah.” I look up at him through my lashes. “It’s wrong.”

Coal black eyes eat me alive, and his hand smooths my cheek. I’m soaked. I forget the entire day, my heart racing at the prospects.

“Is the laundry done?” Penny asks pointedly.

Koda clears his throat and jolts away. “Yeah. I’ll come over and bring it in.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t imagine how long it took you two to get it out of the house. If I don’t help you, the car will become a closet. You didn’t even have baskets. I’m sure.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugs, grabbing the shirts and leaving us standing there.

He gives me a longing look before grabbing a basket full of folded laundry and follows. There’s actually room for us this time when we drive home with Koda behind us.

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