Madison enters the kitchen in a light, flowing oversized tee-shirt, barefoot.  She is looking for something to eat; finds an orange in the fridge.  It’s cold, she holds it to her face.  Ashton enters in boxers and a tee-shirt and socks.  Ashton opens fridge–finds nothing.

ASHTON
Hey, Madison, you wanna share that?

MADISON
This?  (orange)  Uhhhh, no.

ASHTON
Could I just have a section or two?

MADISON
Ashton, really? Go get your own orange. This is Florida for the love of citrus.

ASHTON
Just… OK. How many sections of that orange are you going to eat?

MADISON
All of them. I don’t know. 10.

ASHTON
So, if there are 12 sections, may I have two?

MADISON
No, I’m going to eat them all. I don’t like to peel oranges, that’s why I’m waiting.  And it’s cold; and it feels good on my face.  But, soon, this orange will be peeled.  And when it is peeled—and when I count the freakin’ sections—I don’t care if there are ten, twelve, or even a hundred sections, I’m going to eat them all.  Got it?

Pause. Madison rolls the orange over her face.

ASHTON
Well, there’s not going to be a hundred.

MADISON
Ashton, shut up.

Pause. They sit. Madison holds the orange in her lap and lowers her head onto the kitchen table. Ashton gets up walks behind Madison. Smells her hair. Begins to kiss her neck. Madison stands. Madison slams the orange on to the table.

MADISON
That (sex) is never going to happen again. I told you to drop it fifty freakin’ times. It was a mistake. You’re my roommate and… I don’t even like you.

Madison leaves. Ashton peels the orange.

ASHTON
Yeah, well, I don’t like you either. I just wanted the orange.

Madison walks back in to the kitchen in black cocktail dress. Ashton is surprised, then delighted.  Madison goes to Ashton, touches Ashton’s face; then, she punches him in the eye. She goes to the cabinet and gets a napkin; returns to the table and picks up the orange.

MADISON
It’s my orange. I just didn’t want to peel it.

Exit. Ashton holds the orange peel to his eye. It stings.

End.