Page 17 of Scrimmage

“Is this where you were going?” He nods at the coffee shop.

“Yes. Goodbye.” I turn away and head inside as he says something about having a good rest of my day. Bleh. Glad to be fucking rid of him, I find Penny. She’s got a pencil in between her lips, chewing on the end of it in full focus mode.

“What’s got you in a mood?” she asks, not looking up from whatever she’s doing.

I sink into my seat. “Asshole."

“Typical.” Penny marks a few things on the sketch pad. I pull mine out with my charcoal and start sketching again. She glances up over whatever she’s working on and sets it aside. When she leans forward on the table I know she’s about to ask me questions I don’t want her to.

“You’ve been charcoaling again,” she states.

“It’s not a big deal,” I groan. I know exactly what she’s getting at.

“Ash, you know you can talk to me, right?”

I throw my head back on the chair. “I’m just stressed, okay? Am I allowed to be stressed?”

“Yes,” she says slowly. “But you’ve—"

“Hello, ladies,” Cole interrupts, setting two plates in front of us. “You look hungover, Ash.”

“She had a fun night,” Penny giggles.

Cole looks disappointed, but he doesn’t say anything. I shove my sunglasses back on my face and stick my tongue out at her. “You’re my hero, Cole.”

He brightens. “Any time.”

“Cole!” The manager shouts. “Stop flirting. There’s a line.”

“Right. I’ll see you both tonight for the happy hour?” He asks hopefully.

“Yeah, I’m sure Ash has one more blackout in her for the week,” Penny snickers.

“Cole!” The manager shouts. He hurries off back behind the counter.

I slurp down the coffee to annoy Penny and glare at her.

“That’s not your shirt." She sips at her coffee.

I smile. “It was a gift."

With an eye roll she picks her sketchbook back up. “You lost my shirt, didn’t you?”

“I may have misplaced it.”

“Which frat?”

I narrow my eyes. “Sig Ep.”

“You better sleep with someone else there and get it back.”

“Did you just slut shame me?” I say dramatically, pressing my hand into my chest.

“You’d have to be ashamed for that.” She draws something and holds it away from her face, inspecting it. “You’re on cunt probation for losing my shirt.”

“First of all, it’sourshirt. Second of all, I’ll give you the glittery gold one you like,” I offer.

“Fine. And you put ten bucks in the Cunt Jar.”

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