Page 13 of Breaking Matt

"Hi, Mom," I said as I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder while I rummaged through my kitchen cupboards looking for something to eat.

"Hi, baby," she said in a voice that was far too cheerful for my current state.

"Not so loud, Mom," I mumbled, trying to ease the sudden pounding in my head that had been caused by her high-pitched voice.

"Did you go out last night?" she asked, probably already knowing just from the sound of my voice that I was struggling with a hangover.

"Yeah," I breathed quietly.

I couldn't find anything to eat. My cupboards were nearly empty. I wasn't good at keeping my kitchen stocked, I was usually too busy with everything else to worry about grocery shopping. I closed the cupboard door and sighed. All I had was some cereal and coffee. A quick look in the fridge confirmed I was out of milk.

"What are you doing?" my mom asked.

"Looking for food." I waited for the lecture.

"I keep telling you to stock up when you do your grocery shopping. Then at least you don't have to grocery shop often and you'd still have food in your kitchen."

I rolled my eyes as I listened to the same lecture I'd received countless times. I knew it all by heart, but I didn't interrupt my mom. She was doing it because she loved and cared about me.

"I know, Mom," I agreed. "I'll try to do that next time."

We didn't talk for too much longer. At least by the time I said goodbye my head was feeling better. The painkillers I had taken were starting to kick in.

Tired and still feeling a little delicate I sat down on the sofa. I put my feet up on the coffee table and leaned back into the conformable sofa as I switched on the TV. Mindlessly watching the TV, I tried to decide what type of takeout I was going to order. There was no way I wanted to go out and get something.

There was a knock at the door. I got up and walked to see who it was. I wasn't expecting anyone. I racked my memory, trying to figure out if I had forgotten something.

I looked through the peephole and saw Matthew standing outside my front door. My hand went to the door handle. What was he doing here?

It took me a few moments to work through the initial embarrassment I felt from the events of the last night before I opened the door. Unlike me, he didn't look like he was struggling with the aftereffects of the night before. His eyes were clear and bright. I bet mine were still slightly red.

"What are you doing here?" I said to him as I leaned against the doorframe.

"I called earlier but you didn't answer," he said.

"Why did you call?" I crossed my arms as I waited for his answer.

"How much of last night do you remember?" he asked, studying me.

"All of it." Even if some parts were a little mortifying. I dropped my gaze momentarily.

"Can we have this conversation inside your apartment?" he asked when a nearby neighbor left their apartment, but not before giving us a look of interest.

I stepped back and allowed him inside. Once the door was closed, I followed him into my living room, and he turned to face me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. The sound of his voice with a trace of concern made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"I've definitely felt better." My headache was gone but I was still dehydrated and in need of some food.

"I'm not surprised. You had quite a bit to drink last night."

"Isn't being young and irrational all part of the college experience?" I countered, not liking the lecturing tone of his voice.

"How long has Ryan been giving you trouble?" he asked, moving on to the next subject.

"I'm not sure that's any of your business." I crossed my arms as I faced him.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Don't be difficult."