Page 210 of Scrimmage

“You need to eat something. What about butterscotch?”

“Butterscotch. I like butterscotch,” she says, taking it from me.

Tamara pops her head in. “Are we awake?” she asks with a sweet smile, and curiosity burning in her eyes. I guess she hasn’t seen Ashland in person before.

“Yup,” I respond.

She comes into the room with a cup of pills. “I’m Nurse Tamara. I’ll be your go-to tonight. I’ve got your late night pills right here, Ms. Bradshaw.”

“Ugh,” Ashland balks. “Don’t need ‘em. Please fucking call me Ashland. Ms. Bradshaw makes me sound like I’m forty.”

Tamara ignores her, sets them amongst the pudding, and stands there expectantly. Ashland glares at her. “What are you waiting for?”

“I have to watch you take them, sweetheart.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Alright,” she says nervously, glancing at me with worry. “Just take them and I can go, Ashland.”

“Nah, too late for that. Your Ashland right has been revoked.”

“Uh, Koda?” Tamara looks at me for help.

“You’re scaring her, baby girl,” I inform Ash. “Tamara is nice. I’ve seen her in the nurse’s lounge.”

She doesn’t yell at me for calling her baby girl. That’s a win.

“Oh, so you’re friends?” I see the calculating gaze, and I already know trouble is brewing. “I didn’t realize you were on a first name basis. In that case, you can address me as cunt or slut. Take your pick.” Ashland just woke up from weeks in a coma, and she’s brimming with mischief.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” she responds with gritted teeth.

“Go on.” Ashland sucks the spoon clean and it takes every bit of my willpower to keep myself from getting me hard. “Pick one.”

“You should choose cunt,” I warn her.

“I don’t think…” Nurse Tamara sputters. She looks between us, and I see defeat on her face. “Take the pills, cunt.” She covers her mouth like she can’t believe she just said that to a patient.

“That’s gotta feel good,” Ashland snorts. “Dr. Pepper me.” She holds her hand out, and I open it up as Tamara watches in horror.

I’m sure soda is far off the fucking list, but she needs to just be grateful Ashland is taking them at all. She picks up the cup, dumping it into her good hand. She tosses them back, chasing them with the Dr. Pepper, then opens her mouth, forcing Tamara to look.

“You weren’t kidding,” Tamara says to me.

“He couldn’t tell a good joke if he tried,” Ashland laughs, then winces. “Not enough brain cells. They all focus on breathing.”

“Nah, I lost those a few weeks ago,” I retort.

“Figures.”

“I’ll be back in a little bit. Just let me know if she needs anything.” Tamara backs out of the room and scurries away, shutting the door quickly behind her.

“I can’t believe she said it. She’s gonna tell everyone my girlfriend is fucking crazy.”

Ashland chokes on the butterscotch. When she finally recovers she glares at me. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s the truth.”

We’re at a standoff. I can see that she’s trying not to take me too seriously, and that she’s upset. “If I wasn’t on my death bed I would fucking kill you.”

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