Page 215 of Scrimmage

“It’s fine, I guess. Came with our place.”

“Absolutely not,” he mutters to himself.

“Hello.” I wave my hands in the air. “Are you fucking deaf?”

I’m pouting like a child. I know I am. I’m irritated. He finally glances up, completely distracted. In a few strides he’s looming over me, shoving something into my hands, and then he’s already back at the counter on his phone.

There’s a book in my hands.Myfavorite book. “Where did you get this?”

He shushes me and puts the phone to his ear, walking out on the patio and shutting the door behind him. I don’t even know what to do so I just open it and start at the beginning. I feel like a little kid who was handed a tablet and told not to get into any trouble.

“Alright." He puffs out his cheeks and slowly lets out his breath before coming back into the living room and stretching. “Her shit will be here by end of day tomorrow sans mattress.”

“What are you talking about?”

He glances at the clock and opens a cabinet, rifling through it. “What’s your favorite color?” he deflects.

“I hate color. I obviously like things that are bland.” I gesture to him.

“Pink then,” he muses, setting pill bottles on the counter.

“Not fucking pink,” I growl. “I fucking hate pink. Stupid fucking color.”

He levels his gaze at me. “Then answer the question, Ash."

“I…I don’t know.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You don’t know?”

“I’ve never thought about it.” I shrug.

“Fine, I’ll just give you my card.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You’re right,” he mutters as he types. “Get Ashland her own card.”

“What am I doing here, Armory? Is this your secret house where you bang bitches?” I joke, trying to make sense of this.

He nods slowly, stopping his search, and leans against the kitchen counter. “Yes, but I only bang one bitch in here.Mine.”

“What does that mean?” I glance around.

I watch him organize the pill bottles he pulled from the cabinet. He starts counting out pills and putting them in a little tray, organizing that, too. It’s fucking annoying. Alexi was right, he micromanages.

“I can do that,” I snap.

He sighs, turning to me. “We talked about this.”

I run my tongue over my top teeth, but I don’t say anything. He’s right. I told him I would let him take care of me, but the more I rely on him the harder it’s going to be. He stretches and heads for me with a lazy gait, then leans over the couch where I’m sitting. I can smell him. The scent is intoxicating. The entire place is suffocating me in him. He hands me a glass of water and some pills, waiting for me to take them. I refuse, dumping them onto the coffee table.

“It means that you aren’t leaving my sight,” he says simply. “This is our house. You moved in here.”

“No, I did not.” I shove my hands against his hard chest, but he doesn’t budge.

“You already have.”

“I live with Penny,” I argue, even though I have no idea where. Definitely not fucking here.

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