32
“COME,” CORRIE URGES. “Let’s go grab our jackets and go find him.”
I take one last look at Matt, who is practically dead at the table. It’s amazing how much damage a single punch can do, but when you’re a boxer like Oscar, and about six foot two, you can do a lot of harm, I suppose.
We grab our jackets from the coat check, including Oscar’s. I nip at Corrie’s heels as we both dash out of the club. We need to get out of here and find Oscar.
We manage to escape the bouncers who attempt to stop us. We tell them we don’t know anything and run off. Oscar is nowhere to be seen. I figure that he ran off as soon as he could, before the bouncers could figure it all out.
I text him, frantic.
Where r u? We’re walking towards the catacombs. I think Matt is still alive.
A few seconds later, my phone pings.
Too bad. I really wanted him dead.
—
Where are you?
—
I’m sitting near the catacombs. Next to the lion statue.
—
Stay there. We’ll meet you.
“My heels are killing me,” Corrie says as we head over to find him.
“Mine too.”
She checks her phone again. “What a total asshole.”
It’s dark and cold and my feet hurt. I felt so sexy and excited when we left our little apartment. Now, I feel cheap and ordinary… I feel like crap. “Yeah.”
“I was so psyched when Oscar punched him in the face,” she tells me. "If he hadn’t done it, I would have.”
I laugh. “I know you would have.”
“Well, you know me.”
“As interesting as a can of tomatoes,” I say, laughing. “Where did you come up with that?”
“I don’t know. It just came to me.” She smirks. “I ate pasta at a little Italian place last night. There were cans of tomatoes lined up on the wall.”
I spot Oscar in the distance, sitting by his lonesome next to the lion statue — it’s so sad.
He’s staring down at the ground, and as we near closer, he lifts his head and his gaze meets mine — he looks absolutely wrecked.
I hand him his jacket. “You must be cold. It’s freezing out.”
He thanks me and shrugs into his jacket. He doesn’t attempt to get up. I sit down next to him on the ground, and Corrie stands awkwardly. Oscar shows no sign of wanting to leave. He’s frozen, possibly in shock.
“Listen guys,” she says. “I think I’ll call a cab, and you guys can talk this out.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I tell her. “We can all go back together.”
