“Don’t you remember? How I was your only friend back in high school, when you were a pathetic fat loser.”
My jaw drops. I’m speechless. And so is everyone else at the table. He’s a little drunk, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior.
“You think you’re so hot now that you’ve lost all that weight,” he goes on, and all I can do is stare blankly at him. “You think you’re better than me? Well, news flash, Whaley Wilson. You’re still the same loser you used to be.”
Corrie is in shock, and Oscar is livid. “That’s enough,” Oscar says, struggling very hard to contain himself. He doesn’t want to make a scene. He doesn’t want to make things worse.
A waitress pops by, completely oblivious. “I see you have enjoyed the pizza,” she says in broken English. She’s a super young bouncy little thing. “Can I get you anything else? More drinks?”
“We’re all done here,” Matt deadpans and reaches into his wallet. He pulls out his card and flings it at her. She seems to have finally realized that something’s up at this table. “Okay, I will go get your receipt.”
I inhale a long breath through my nose, attempting to calm myself. I’m shaken, hurt, and I seriously want to punch him in the face. I think to myself,this is almost over. He’s paying the bill and he’ll be out of here in a minute.
But no such luck. He’s not done with me.
As soon as the waitress is out of sight, he starts up again. “You think you look hot in that cheap slutty dress and those ugly knock-off shoes?”
His words cut. I’m so hurt, I’m completely speechless. I realize that Oscar was right. Matt hasn’t changed at all — he’s still the same bully he used to be.
“People like you make me sick,” Oscar says. His voice is not his own — it’s cracked at the edges, full of emotion. “You get off on treating people like shit. Pushing them down makes you feel better about yourself.”
“Yeah, I bet you hate yourself, you little fucker,” Corrie chimes in. “With your stupid boring suits and golf shirts, you have as much personality as a can of tomatoes. Guys like you have no brains either, got everything you have from your daddy, you little prick.”
“I’ve got this,” Oscar says and leans in to the table. He bends his head down over Matt’s. Even as they’re both sitting, Oscar looks down on him. “Corrie’s right. You’re a little fucker who gets off on beating on people. You destroy spirits. You fuck up lives.”
I’m still speechless, but it’s no longer because of Matt’s awful words, it’s the emotion in Oscar, the pain in his eyes. I’ve never seen him like this. I know he loves me, but this is more than that. There’s so much anger and pain in him. He’s about to burst and I can see it.
I tug at his arm. “Let’s go. Let’s get out of here, Oscar.”
“Kayla deserves so much better than you,” he tells Matt and gets up to leave.
Matt smirks. “Oh, she deserves someone like you, I suppose. A total loser who serves coffee and still lives with his mother.”
That’s the moment when Oscar absolutely loses it. He grabs Matt’s arm and jerks him out of his seat. The fear in Matt’s eyes is palpable — he realizes he’s gone too far. I want to stop Oscar, but I also want to enjoy this moment, if only for a second.
“You’re despicable,” Oscar sneers. “People like you should all be shot dead.”
The intensity of the hatred in Oscar’s eyes is shocking. Oscar’s such a sweet guy —I really didn’t think he was capable of such hatred.
We jerk back as Oscar takes a swing at Matt, and it’s a doozy. A single punch across the face, and Matt is down, his nose bloody.
“You had that coming a long time ago,” Oscar deadpans. “I really wish I could kill you.”
Corrie is wide eyed, frozen like a statue. I’m immobile too, as is everyone around us. The bartender heads outside, and so does Oscar. He obviously wants to make an escape before the bouncers get to him, or the cops.
“Holy fuck,” Corrie says.
Holy fuck is right.
