Page 24 of Scrimmage

“You gotta admit she’s, like, one of the hottest girls you’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, and a self-proclaimed slut. I literally ran into her while she was leaving a frat house this morning.” I remember her curvy little body slamming into me. I had been in full running mode, lost in the music blaring from my earbuds. She smelled like blackberries and alcohol with a hint of something sweet. “She definitely wasn’t sober.”

“What frat?”

I stretch, analyzing the score at the end of the game. “Sig Ep.”

“Pft. I’m way hotter than any of those guys and have way more charisma.”

“She’s not even your type.”

“Mentally illismy type." He grins. “Come on. You can’t possibly tell me that you wouldn’t bang her. The pink hair. The tattoos. Don’t get me started on the piercings. I wonder where else she’s got them.”

True, she has all of those things. What he doesn’t mention is her eyes. That’s the part of her that sticks out to me. She’s got teal eyes like deep water in the Caribbean. They’re full of fire. Not to mention her mouth. Sarcasm bleeds from her tongue. She’s quick, almost like she’s formulated her response minutes before you even know what you’re going to say. She’s the kind of girl who toys with you because she knows she can. I didn’t understand what she was even doing at Sunny’s with that plain guy who looks like he belongs in business school.

“You need to get your head straight and stop being such a play boy. It’s going to be a big season. We need to focus,” I urge him.

“Do you always have to have such a stick up your ass? You sound just like dad.”

I bristle at his comment. Our adopted father is a senator. Alexi has taken advantage of it, while I have always tried to prove myself. It’s not that I’m close with him or that I care what he thinks, but he taught me to earn things. If you want something you’re supposed to full force go for it. That’s how you get it. Alexi used to argue with him a lot. They’re not each other’s favorite. Holidays can be brutal. It’s like Alexi doesn’t give a fuck that they adopted us and kept us out of foster care. He’s my brother and my best friend, but it doesn’t mean that I agree with how he handles things.

“It’s your career on the line,” I remind him.

“Just worry about yourself, bro. As long as I don’t get in legal trouble my career is just fine. We both broke records last year without even trying. I’m tired of the groupies with overused pussy and too much ball fondling. I mean, Jesus, you don’t need to grip them to make it work.”

He’s got a point. “This girl isn’t interested in you. How do you expect to change that?”

“I’m gonna invite her to the football party next Friday.”

“And you think she’s gonna come?”

“Fuck this team man. Cheaters." He shrugs, tossing the controller to the side when he loses. "At the very least I think she’ll come for the free booze.”

“Whatever you do, keep her far the fuck away from me.”

Sometimes I like to sit out on the quad after a good run, especially when it’s still warm out. There’s always a breeze and people going to and from classes in their own worlds at this time of the day. In two years I’ll leave this place. Sure, I’ll come back to visit my alma mater. It’s just what the pros do. They donate money and make appearances, becoming the pride and joy of their university. I’ve been preparing to go pro my entire life.

Unlike Alexi, I don’t want any distractions while I’m here. I never have. These girls are just chasing fame and fortune. They’re not wife material. I don’t want to date some girl who has seen every dick on campus. That’s never bothered Alexi. If anything, it attracts him more. He has a need for attention and when he doesn’t get it he does stupid shit, like obsess over the Ashland girl.

Unlike me, he’s all about a show. If girls come home with him he lets them down easy, which is just a nice way to say he strings them along. He’s had some real crazies because of it. One time a girl even faked a pregnancy, having some pregnant girl she found at a grocery store pee on a stick for a hundred dollars. You’d think after that he would have learned his lesson, but he never does. It just amps him up even more. He loves crazy. I just want peace.

I’ve thought about the future plenty. Someday I want to get married and have kids with a nice girl that has a bright smile. I want someone like our mom. She’s kind and caring. There wasn’t one time that she didn’t have our dad’s back, and she did it all herself. My future wife will love football and never miss a game. She’ll have a ton of fucking grace and be full of support. I don’t need some girl who gets sloppy drunk and accidentally shows her ass on ESPN. Alexi says it’s boring, but I disagree.

Someone rolls by me on the sidewalk on a board. There are signs everywhere saying not to do that in the quad. I hate disrespect. Low and behold, it’s Alexi’s muse. Her pink hair flutters in the wind while people jump out of her way telling her to watch where she’s going. She doesn’t pay them any attention.

She’s wearing baggy cargo pants that sit low on her wide hips and a crop top. You can see her pierced nipples poking through the cotton and the ones in her nose glitter in the sunlight. Her backpack is slung over her shoulder and her eyes are focused on a pad of paper in her hands, which are covered in what looks like dirt. Between her fingers charcoal glides across the page in sweeping motions. She pushes off of the ground, still not looking where she’s going, and bites her hooped lip rings in concentration.

Ashland leans too far to the left and rolls off into the grass, which throws her from the board. Instead of screaming, she just rolls onto her back and groans, not in pain but frustration. With her hands clenched at her sides she stares at the sky. After a few deep breaths, she sits up, searches through the grass for her charcoal, and snatches the sketch pad. She flips it a few times and sticks her pink tongue in the corner of her mouth in concentration. I can see that her elbows and forearms are scraped from the fall, even over her tattoos, which cover almost every inch of her arms.

Some of them are intricate and delicate and some are harsh and dark. Her left hand has ink across her knuckles and it creeps around into her palm. The girl is a walking canvas. I’ve always found tattoos so weird. People put something on their body that they can’t get rid of. They like putting them in places that everyone can see, but if you stare too long you’re the asshole. Don’t you dare ask what they mean because that’s a fucking cardinal sin.

The same guy from brunch walks up, and she rushes to put the sketch pad away.

“Drawing again?” he asks, stretching out next to her.

“I’m not. I was looking at something for Penny,” she lies. That’s fucking weird. I just saw her, and her hands are literally coated in black.

“Were you digging a grave?” he jokes.

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