Page 209 of Scrimmage

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I shouldn’t have. I should have stayed and listened.”

She freezes. “It was never going to work. We’re too different.”

“No, we’re not. I was being a dick.”

She glances at me. “Whatever. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“I know it wasn’t true, Ash. I know Damien is a psycho.”

She clenches a hand around the pudding cup and stares into it as if it’s going to tell her the secrets of the Universe.

“Oh. Well." She clears her throat. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“I know,” I say slowly. “But if I had just stopped being an asshole for five seconds none of this would have happened.”

“It’s not your fault Cole attacked me. I relieve you of that karma,” she snorts.

“I don’t think it’s my fault.”

“Then why are you here if this isn’t some guilty conscience thing? Don’t you have practice or something?”

“Fuck practice. I don’t want to be anywhere else,” I finally say.

“But you guys are undefeated,” she argues.

The corners of my mouth turn up, and I give her a questioning look. “I thought you hated football and actively avoided knowing anything about it because you said ‘it’s a pointless sport that murders brain cells, and is filled with a bunch of narcissistic assholes who are measuring dicks and using aggression as a form of therapy’?”

She blushes. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything you say, Ash, despite what you think.”

She doesn’t know what to say. “Hand me the Tapioca.”

I do it happily. It’s true. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Eating pudding in a hospital bed is exactly what I want.

“You’re a decent quarterback,” she says out of nowhere. “They say you’re gonna get drafted into the NFL.”

“Checking up on me?” I smirk.

“I’m trying to compliment you, Armory. Say thank you, and shut the fuck up.”

“Yes ma’am,” I chuckle. “Thank you. Shut the fuck up.”

“I can’t fucking stand you,” she mumbles, putting the spoon to her lips. She makes a face and puts the cup down. “Nope. Not the one.”

I stick my hand out. “Hand it over.”

“You like this shit?” she asks incredulously.

“I basically haven’t eaten in three weeks. I’ll eat anything at this point.” I take it from her. “What about this one?” I peel off another lid and hand it to her.

“I can do it myself, ya know." She takes one bite and shakes her head. “Nope. No. What the fuck is this, Armory? Are you trying to kill me?”

I frown. “Pistachio isn’t that bad.”

“You’re a monster.”

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