Page 12 of Scrimmage

“I’m sorry,Ashland.Are we boring you?” Stacy asks.

“I don’t think I’m the only one thinking it.” I annoyingly slurp my mimosa. Alexi tries to hide his laughter, and the guy at the other side of the table looks up at the sky, biting his cheek. “Don’t worry,Stacy, they’ll still fuck you.”

She narrows her eyes at me, trying to calculate a witty response. “Jealous?”

“Of you? No, I’m not really into the whole ‘let’s do anal so I can pretend I’m a virgin’ thing. I’ll take my dick like a real slut, thanks.”

“You should get some therapy. You might have daddy issues.”

“Might?” I laugh. “Maybe you should put a dick in your mouth to keep you from stating the obvious.”

“Alexi." She redirects her attention. “Why the fuck did you bring us over here?”

“Probably because my PornHub history isn’t passionate missionary,” I continue.

“Classy,” another Stacy says.

I lean back in my chair and pull out my phone. “Cultured, not classy.”

“Can we go?” Ring leader Stacy asks. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Don’t pretend you were going to order anything in the first place. Gotta get ready for all that anal.” I raise my glass, toasting the air.

Stephanie looks pointedly at Alexi and the other guy, but they don’t make eye contact. “Neither of you are going to say anything?”

Alexi chokes and ends up coughing. “What do you want me to do, Steph? Lie?”

Stacy snatches her purse and glares around the table. “Let’s fucking go,” she commands the others. They get up and quickly follow her out.

I sigh. “What a gem."

“You didn’t have to humiliate her like that,” the other guy finally speaks.

“Shut up, Armory. You’ll be getting laid by midnight, and you won’t even have to apologize,” Alexi grins.

“Yeah, shut up, Armory,” I mock him.

Armory stands and pushes in his chair, giving me one last glare before he stalks off after the girls.

“I guess that’s my cue,” Alexi sighs.

“Ta-ta,” I shoo him away.

He starts to leave but does a one-eighty and comes back, leaning next to me onto the table. “I don’t think I caught your last name?”

“Bradshaw.”

“Ashland Bradshaw,” he muses.

“I don’t have social media, so you can’t stalk me.”

“Do you have a phone?”

“No.” I level my gaze with my phone clutched in my hand.

He glances down at it and smirks. “Right. Well, maybe I’ll see you around Ashland Bradshaw.” He puts his hands into his pockets and winks before leaving.

“Hope not,” I mumble.

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