Page 14 of Scrimmage

“I’m serious, Ash." She pulls her knees up and a blanket over us.

“So am I,” I say with my mouth full of chocolate. “Who could possibly like me? I’m fucking unhinged.”

“Only because you wanna be.”

“If you think it’s a choice, then you don’t know me at all.”

Penny opens her mouth to argue, but decides to turn the TV on instead. I’m grateful she knows when to end a conversation. She’s not wrong and I know that, but I’m not ready to hear it. This past summer we spent a few weeks in Europe, crossing tons of shit off of our bucket lists. The second we got on a plane to come back, she started asking me what I want out of life. We’ve talked about everything under the sun, including our delusional dreams in our four years of friendship, but not a future beyond this place. Now it's hanging over us like my impending doom. I have no fucking clue what to do.

I’m starting to wonder if she’s inadvertently trying to prepare me for the day that she finds someone. I don’t want to think about it. This year we’re juniors in college, and real thoughts of the future are starting to become topics of conversation. Penny is a planner. Not in an annoying way, but she knows that there is an adult world that we need to prepare for. I, on the other hand, have been pretty unwilling to accept that. I’ve always been the type to just go wherever a wave tosses me and figure out how to keep myself from drowning.

I love sitting here with Penny just being lazy. Once upon a time, I never thought my life could be like this, and I want to savor it like a fine wine or whatever the fuck people like to say. We’re not seniors yet, and that means this is the year to really live it up. Next year she’ll be stressed, and I’ll have to have a real answer to her questions about what’s next.

Until then, I’m going to watch trash TV with my best friend and pretend everything is fine.

Chapter Two

Ashland

I’ve spent my life being late. When I was born I was late. It was pretty fucking late when I realized my life was shit. I always speak my thoughts, and by the time my rational brain catches up, it’s too late. I’m late to every party, every outing, and even to every class. The only thing I’ve ever been early for was losing my virginity, and that’s not something to brag about.

I always wonder what the fuck everyone else is running toward. It’s not like any of it matters in the scope of things. Adhering to time takes away from the spontaneity of life. I know I have to be somewhere, but if I happen to get there late? Who cares. Time is a construct perpetuated by people who want control of your life. Schedules are so ingrained into our existence that we don’t even notice it. We tell people who won’t follow the ‘rule’ that they’re a problem. It’s not that I don’t understand shit needs time frames, but if I’m late by twenty minutes what does it really matter?

I wake up and immediately know I’m not in my own bed. I can smell sweat, socks, and overpowering cologne. The sound of shouts downstairs are what roused me. I crack open my eyes and look around to get my bearings. I’m definitely still a little drunk. The door to what looks like a closet is open, and I hear a shower running.Fuck.

I don’t bother trying to recall what happened last night. I slide out of the messy bed with a blue and white plaid comforter. Ugh. There’s so much dirty laundry everywhere that I’m having a hard time discerning what are my clothes and what are mystery douche’s. Looks like we have the same taste. Typical.

I throw on a shirt. Not mine. I yank it off and try another. By the third one I’ve given it up and accepted the Steve Miller Band shirt. Dude probably hasn’t listened to him in his entire life. Consider it a gift, sir, for my services. I find my shorts and trip trying to escape. I dig through shit quickly trying to find my phone to no avail.Typical.

The shower stops, freezing me in place. No, no, no,no. The guy comes out looking like he’s ready for round two. I know for a fact that I didn’t orgasm, and I’m not going to put myself through that again.

“So you’re up?” He holds the towel at his waist, ready to drop it.

“Do you know where my phone is?” I bat my lashes as if I give a fuck.

He tucks the towel, a little disappointed. “Uh, over there.” He points to the side table.

I snatch it and try to look at the time, but it’s dead. Fuck. It’s literally my first Ancient Culture and Literature class of the semester. I like to start Thirsty Thursdays early, which is exactly what landed me here.

“Shit." I fumble, looking for the door wildly. “Where am I?”

“You don’t remember?” He stands up straight, looking worried.

I wave my hand in the air, dismissing him. “I was consenting. Don’t worry about it. Where?”

“Sig Ep.” There's a proud twinkle in his eye masked by annoyance. As if I give a fuck about what loser clan he comes from.

“Cool.” I shove my boots on.

“Let’s exchange numbers. Maybe we can do this again.”

“Sorry.” I shake my phone in the air. “I don’t have unlimited. Nice to meet you, Seth.”

“Nope. Not my name. Is that my shirt?” His face is turning red with irritation.

“Timothy?”

“Teddy,” he says crisply, glaring at me.

---