Page 150 of Scrimmage

He laughs, pulling it from his pocket and handing it over. “I know we’re playing games, Ash. I’m only doing it because I know you like it. You don’t have sex with anyone except for me, and I don’t want anyone else. Stacy can fuck herself for all I care.”

I swallow. I’m still very very drunk, and when I’m this drunk I say shit I don’t want to say. “Why did you come out here? How did you even get out here?”

“Alexi." He relaxes into the seat and holds his hand out. We’ve never held hands before. It feels juvenile. I just stare at it.

“Ashland. I’m fucking tired. I understand affection is a foreign concept to you, but I just went to a party where I watched you flirt with some tattooed asshole and carried your drunk friend into her house so she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of the smallest dick in America. You win this round, alright? Hold my fucking hand.”

I pick his up by his finger like it’s a used tissue. “What do I do with it?”

“Jesus Christ.” He rolls his eyes into the back of his head and snags my wrist, taking his hands off of the wheel and forcing my fingers to intertwine with his.

“Calm down. I’ve never held someone’s hand before.” I haven’t. The way he looks at me makes me feel stupid.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” I look out of the window. It feels weird; good and uncomfortable at the same time.

“Guess I got a first of something.”

I try to take my hand back, but he grips it until I concede. “It just wasn’t a thing.”

“Who the fuck did you date before me?” he scoffs.

“I’m not dating you, and he didn’t make me hold his fucking hand.”

“Sounds like an idiot.”

“Not a lot of hand holding when you’re fucking.”

“I’m well aware of your history, Ashland. It doesn’t bother me like you think it does.”

“It should,” I mumble.

“What exactly was your goal tonight?”

“I didn’t think you'd find me, honestly.”

“That’s exactly what you wanted, and you know it. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have cut my shirt into a flimsy fucking bra and worn it to a party full of alternative inked up polite assholes.”

“What?” I glance down innocently. “It looks cute.”

“I didn’t say that I didn’t like it.” We pull into the parking lot of the condo, and he turns the car off but doesn’t make a move to let me out. He’s riled up. I can tell.

“You’re still mad I went to the party.”

“Not mad. Just…You fucking scared me.” He looks over at me with sage green eyes. “I don’t care if you go to a goddamn party. It’s all the other shit. If you don’t have your phone, you can’t fucking call me. If I’m not there, I can’t protect you. Any of those guys could have drugged you.”

I did scare him. I can see it on his face. He was terrified. That’s why he was so perturbed when he showed up.

“It really bothered you that much when you found me at that football party?”

“Yeah, it bothered me,” he laughs incredulously. “You were on the fucking floor, and I couldn’t wake you up.”

“So the whole Cole fight wasn’t a jealous thing?”

“Hell no. I mean…Maybe a little, but he fucking left you at that party after hurting your feelings. I don't like him, but I thought that he would've taken you home. He showed his true colors that night. So, yeah, when I saw him again I fucking hit him. I don’t regret it.”

“You hurt my feelings. Not Cole,” I argue. I try to take my hand back, but he holds on until I give up.

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