Page 67 of Pucking Matt
She smiles. “That’s never stopped you before.”
“Michelle, I already told you.”
She drops the act, pulling her hand back and snarks, “God, you are like every other man out there, you know that? Such a fuck boy. You only care about yourself. You wouldn’t even consider getting to know me because all you care about is one fucking thing. But guess what? You’re only good for one fucking thing, Matt. Do you want to know what they say about our video?”
Here we go. I inhale, not wanting to know the bullshit rumors she’s spreading herself.
“Your dick is average, your balls are too small, and you’re lousy in bed,” she seethes.
“And what do they say about you?”
Her eyes widen once she realizes what I’m implying.
“Fuck you, Matt!”
I shrug.
“You’re even lucky that I’m in this truck with you.”
I hold in my scoff. I won’t fall for any of this because she’s like the crazy ex-girlfriend who can’t get over my dick.
She continues, “You pretend like you’re God’s gift to the world, but really, deep down inside, you’re just an insecure lost little boy who always wanted mommy to put him first, but she was too busy fucking the whole town.”
I rip my eyes off the road to glare at her. She hit a sore spot, but if there’s anything I learned tonight–from Amber–it’s that I can be the bigger person. What would Amber do right now? Not say a word and take the drunk girl home, so that’s what I’m going to do.
As the seconds tick on by, drunk Michelle realizes that I’m not going to reply.
She adds, “You have nothing to say, little Matty? Huh? Cat got your tongue?”
“How drunk are you?” I ask, pulling into the parking lot for the dorms. Thank fuck.
Michelle scowls at me. “Not that drunk.”
Says every drunk person, am I right?
“So, remember what I’m about to tell you.” I drive slowly, looking over at her. “You and I are fucking done. Don’t come to my games, don’t come to my practices anymore. Fuck, don’t come to the parties anymore. This thing you have for me is ending right now.”
“Fuck you, Matt!”
I press the brakes of my truck in the middle of the road, coming to a complete stop. I glare at her and say, “I’m dead fucking serious, Michelle. I slipped up when I fucked you after Maddie broke up with me. I knew I fucked up when I slept with you a dozen times before I even got with Maddie. And fuck the video, Michelle. I don’t give a fuck about it anymore. But what I do care about is you moving on. This hasn’t been healthy for either of us, and I know–I know what you’re going to say. I take full responsibility for being a dick to you and leading you on. You’re a beautiful girl, you deserve so much better than what I can offer you. You deserve better. But this thing between us is fucking done. It’s over.”
She’s baffled, blinking back whatever’s going on in her mind. I’m probably talking too fast for a drunk person to comprehend, but I needed to say it.
“I’m sorry, Michelle. I’m sorry for being an asshole and only wanting one thing from you.” I say it because I mean it. I’ve led her on for months, and I can’t blame her for trying to keep me. Dancing with Amber tonight was probably a siren going off in her head. I should have apologized sooner, maybe even been considerate and warned her.
I’m relieved when Michelle doesn’t cry. Instead, she unbuckles herself and says, “Whatever. Pull up over there.”
I drive slowly over to the curb. She opens the door before I stop the truck.
We don’t say another word as she steps out.
I watch her walk to the dorms because I don’t want to be responsible for anything horrific happening to her. Right before she walks through the door, she turns around and sees me. I drive off before our eyes can meet, glad to be fucking done.
“Dude,” Dylan says right as I enter the locker room. The smell in here is half disgusting but pure nostalgia. It’s time to get ready for practice and then work at the Grind Stone later.
“Matt,” Dylan hollers, waving his phone. “Have you been reading these comments?”
I roll my eyes, not wanting to hear what Michelle and her clan have been spamming in the comments on their fake accounts.
