Friday, March 9, 2018
A moment with Mathew Brighton
Matt was easy on the eyes, with a full ride scholarship; in retrospect, life for him had been one long responsibility free party. He loved his life. Relationships had never been his thing. Matthew Brighton was a great friend but a shitty boyfriend. He’d dumped his girlfriend via text before sleeping with somebody else. He wasn’t a cheater. He’d been ignoring his phone all night, because he avoided drama like the plague. If he kept ignoring her texts and calls maybe she’d just give up and go away? This was probably why all of his exes venomously despised him. He must have been too drunk to figure out how to turn off the ringer. Matthew gazed across the dorm room noting that his roommate Ryan was in no better state. His phone went off again. Why won’t she go away? She’s effing stone, cold, insane.
“Matt, I swear with everything inside of me. I’m going to shove that phone up your ass to muffle the sound.”
Matt chuckled, “No means no, Ryan.”
His roommate launched an empty beer can at him and missed. It hit the wall on the other side of his bed with a ting. Matt got up and staggered around in search of his phone. He was about to turn the power off, when it began to ring. He stared at it, grimaced, and thought, Oh, what the hell. I’ll be a frigging man. His roommate began to rifle random things from the bedside table in his direction. “All right, I got it.” He yelled at his roommate as he answered the call with flirtatious raspy seduction, “Hello, Matt’s love palace, Matt speaking.” He’d expected a pissed off ex but it was his best friend’s voice, he curtly stated, “I’m downstairs; kick her out. I’m coming up.”
Matt was far too bombed to notice he was naked as he stood up, and made a valiant attempt to balance on his wobbly legs. He slurred, “No, no, don’t you get up Ryan. I’ll get the door.” He glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned, “What in the hell is that douche bag doing here at four o’clock in the effing morning?”
Ryan moaned and pulled the covers up over his head.
He cupped his hand in front of his mouth and exhaled, sick. He couldn’t even stand the smell of his own breath. Matt flopped back down on his bed, opened his nightstand and ate some toothpaste. Now, he’d smell like cinnamon poop and mint. He then launched himself to his feet and staggered towards the door. He heard Clay’s footsteps in the hall and opened the door before he had a chance to knock. Matthew Brighton stood there in all of his drunken naked glory and slurred, “You shit head. It’s four o’clock in the effing morning.” He hung onto the door frame for support as the ground moved in gentle waves beneath his feet.
A rough looking Clay exhaled deeply and said, “Lovely, you're friggin’ wasted and naked. Put on some damn shorts man. Do you usually answer your door stark naked?”
Ryan chuckled from his bed, “Only if it’s you.”