For You ... -Camren

**CHAPTER 09**

She remembered the night was cool for September. She remembered because she had been wearing a sweater—a sweater she had not worn since, a sweater that was ruined and stretched and permanently scarred by the events of that night.

Matt was an angry drunk.

"So how long? How long have you been in love with her?" he asked, unsteady on his feet as she helped him out to the parking lot and towards her car. She released him as she processed his words, biting back her immediate response (it's none of your goddamn business) and taking a deep breath to tamp down on her temper.

"You're drunk, Matt," she said, but he didn't get the hint. Didn't get that she was being patient with him. Didn't get that she was trying. (Why had she said yes? Why had she agreed to this?)

(The rest of them walked home. The rest of them had too much to drink.)

"I'm fine," he slurred. "Tell me the truth."

"You're drunk, and I promised Camila I'd get you home. So come on."

"You two lived together senior year. And I could tell. I could tell. You loved her. You love her."

"Matt," she said harshly, opening the passenger door of her car. She gestured for him to get in, but he shook his head, something ugly appearing on his face.

"I told her she couldn't hate me for cheating on her because she was fucking you. That's why she broke up with me. 'Cause I said she wanted to fuck you."

"Matt, shut up," she said, her temper flaring. "Shut up and get in the car."

"How long after she was single did you wait? To tell her? I wouldn't have waited long if I were you. She couldn't wait to run from me to you."

"I swear to—"

"Picked fights all the time. Then ran to you. I knew it, I knew why. And it fucking pissed me off."

"Matt—"

"I hate you. I hate you. You're the reason we broke up." He stepped forward, his voice dangerous, and Lauren clenched her fists, glaring at him.

"I'm going to call you a cab," she said, no longer willing to put up with him, no matter what she promised. No matter what she'd said. "I'll stay here until it gets here. But after that, you and me? We're through."

"Don't pretend. We were never friends. You hate me. I hate you. But you got the girl. You." Lauren rolled her eyes.

"I'm calling you a cab," she said, pulling out her phone. He snorted softly and swayed a little as she made the call, hanging his head,hiding his eyes.

"If you weren't around," he said, swaying a little more, using the open car door to keep him steady, "I'd get the girl."

"What the hell, Matt?" He stumbled forward and grabbed her sweater's collar, pulling on it, shaking her.

"I should get the girl. Me."

"Let me go." Stay calm. You promised to get him home, not kill him or maim him. But her thoughts did nothing to quell her flaring temper, her anger, her frustration. He had no right to touch her, no right to lay a hand on her.

"She should be mine," he said, the smell of booze on his breath, his eyes glazed over, and Lauren was no longer willing to be patient, no longer willing to wait. She kicked him, hard, shocking him enough to let go of her collar, then punched him right below his ribs, knocking the air right out of him. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath, but Lauren didn't have it in her to feel sorry for him.