Chapter 25: Matt

Six beers in by the time ten o’clock rolled by, and it was still not enough to get Renee Lyon off my mind, even for a brief moment. The bar is slow tonight, but random stragglers come in and out of the cold, taking shots and even going for a quick game of pool or darts. I didn’t bother to turn around. Really, I couldn't. I didn’t care, not anymore. It was all I could do to find the physical effort to lift my head and order another beer.

After another moment, my phone buzzed, and I almost didn’t check it. It has been going off all night, ever since I confronted Carly and spilled everything to her. Aaron has repeatedly been calling; even Jake has texted me multiple times. They want to know what to do now, I know they do, but I don’t really have an answer for them.

Because I was not sure that what I did was right.

I pounded another beer in under ten seconds flat, slapping it down on the table, just as another small group of people came stumbling through the door. Jocks, they looked like, probably friends of Jake. They looked like they were drunk, but I didn’t give a shit. I wish I was that drunk.

“Hey, lady,” one of the loudmouths hollers across the room. “Could we get a round of shots?”

The bartender rolls her eyes, catching my gaze, and I smile sympathetically. I didn’t even have the energy to put these assholes in their place. Not today, anyway. Am I any better than them?

A half an hour later, as I finish my last beer, the door opens again, and two people come in. Jami is the first, and Renee is the second. For a split moment, I couldn't take my eyes off her. She had been crying, it was clear, and her freckled face was rubbed red and raw, eyes darkened from the damp mascara stains beneath her lids. She sat down after she followed Jami to the other side of the room. They haven’t noticed me yet, and I plan to keep it that way. I really didn’t need this tonight.

Shrugging my jacket up as high as it went, I sat at the bar for a moment, finishing my beer. I couldn't hear Jami and Renee’s conversation, but that was probably best. What I did hear, however, was the group of jocks in the back, and they’re getting rowdy. And drunk. It annoyed me.

Figuring I could slip out of here and go home before the shit hit the fan, I paid my tab and started to get up, but one of the guys was still talking loudly, and I heard a comment that piqued my curiosity.

“Hey, you,” one of the jocks says, and I turn on my stool just a little bit to see two men approaching Renee and Jami’s table. One of them has a piece of paper in his hand, and I watch as he hands it to Renee. “Is this you?” he asks.

I couldn't even begin to assume what this paper was for a moment, but I immediately noted Renee’s reaction. She swallows hard and, with trembling fingers, hands it across the table to Jami, whose brow furrows as her eyes scan the page. I see Jami look up at the guys standing near their table, and she looked angry suddenly, hands flinging in the air, a scowl on her face. Renee isn’t saying anything, but she is once again crying.

Pain rips at me, a pain so intense I was not sure I’ve ever felt anything like it before. Whatever it was, it was bad, and I was almost afraid to find out.

“So, is that you?” the other guy asked, pointing at the paper. Renee didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to because Jami was on her feet, her voice rising with every moment that passed.

“Get the hell out of here,” she said. “And take this with you.” She slammed the paper against the chest of the first guy, who shrugged and looked at his buddy, who laughed. I didn’t realize I was cracking my knuckles in annoyance until my fingers began to hurt. The guys high-fived each other and then headed in my direction towards the bar.

“Hey, cutie,” one of them said to the bartender. “Could we get another round, please?”

“Sure,” she muttered, clearly annoyed. I glanced at the two men beside me, eyes landing on the paper in the second guy’s hand.

“Have you got something funny there?” I asked. The guy turns to me, just noticing I was sitting there.

“Oh,” he shrugged, handing me the slightly crumpled paper. I take it from him and spread it on the bar before me, eyes scanning the paper.

It was a photo of Renee as a younger girl. When she was still awkward and geeky, with glasses and braces and the whole shebang. Right below this photo are the words, Virgin Mary or College Whore? And below that are two boxes that anyone could check for their vote.

Fucking Carly.

Anger simmers below the surface of my chest, hot, dangerous, ready to explode. I closed my hand around the sheet of paper, crumpling it in my fingers, and then tossed it aside into the little trash bin on the other side of the bar. The two guys look at me, frowning, and I lean in and lower my voice, forcing them to come closer.

“Stay away from that girl—-”

“And if we don’t?” One of the guys asked, fists pumping menacingly. A smile curls on my lips, and I slide off the stool, getting to my feet in one quick motion. This must startle both of the guys because they back up, hesitant.

“If you don’t, I will make it my personal goal to smash both of your faces until you’re no longer recognizable. Is that clear?”

For a moment, I think at least one of the guys will argue, but after a moment, the first one nods, then the second.

“Good,” I said, slapping one of them on the shoulder. “Pass the word around.”

Without waiting for an answer, I slip past them and out the door, careful not to look towards Renee’s table again. I didn’t want her to see me.

I couldn't.

Because the pain in her face is far too much for me to handle.

And all of this is happening because of me.