monday pine; matty healy.

lies, cigarettes and burnt breakfasts

I learn by talking to Ben that Monday Pine are originally from Colorado, attempting to make their way around America in a small camper van and stopping at small towns along the way, picking up gigs wherever they can. They've played house shows and pubs, tiny venues to fifty people and to larger crowds in parks in the middle of the night as a result of social media petitions and requests. Their lives seem adventurous and when I'm eventually left on my own I am not in fact lonely for very long. Matty walks beside me as we make our way back to Jamie's house - chosen because his house happens to be the only one able to fit our somewhat large group.

"Tell me a story then." He nudges my arm but I only shake my head.

"Not today. Maybe when I've had a few beers and some cigarettes and I actually know your last name."

"Healy. Here's a cigarette, I'll get you a beer once we reach Jamie's place, yeah?" Matty pulls out a cigarette from his pocket to which I laugh.

"Firstly, your name sounds like you belong in a pop band." I reply, "You should call yourself Matthew James or Matt Kyles - that suits your career path more, and secondly; I don't drink nor do I smoke cigarettes."

"Oh." He seems dumbfounded for a minute, but regains his usual confidence soon enough with so much as a: "At least you know my name now. Surely that counts for at least one story."

"I moved from a small town in France."

"I take it you weren't born there, judging from the accent."

Matty is the first person to take evident interest in my past, and despite his genuine attitude and soft smile, I'm reluctant to tell him any more. I like to keep the "stories" from my past to myself, they might just be the only thing I haven't shared with a single person. Matty insists, all the way to Jamie's house, that I share a travelling story and I dodge his questions as best as I can. When we get inside the house and spread out across the living room and the kitchen, Matty leaves my side with a frown and I feel slightly guilty for not opening up to the boy.

The more the night continues, the more I find myself looking over in Matty's direction where he's pushing his hair out of his face every five seconds with his right hand and a beer in his left. Camille and Jamie stand up from their conversation with him and offer for Matty to follow them, but he shakes his head and tells them to go on without him. Still feeling a pang of guilt and now that he's looking right at me, I stand from my spot on the couch and sit beside him. I motion for his beer, to which he places the cold bottle in my hand. Despite not liking the taste too much, I take a few sips anyway.

"I thought you don't drink." He smiles that soft smile again and I can feel my chest suddenly tightening, confining and exploding.

"I lied." I say, causing him to furrow his eyebrows and create creases on his face, "I take drinks from other people throughout the night to make sure they don't get too wasted."

He laughs when I tell him the truth, but it's not a mocking laugh; I take it he just thought that what I said was funny.

"I don't know why you're laughing," I frown, "It's true."

"I don't know what to believe anymore with you, Desireé." His laugh fades into a smile and I'm not sure if it's the alcohol that I've stolen from people overnight or some kind of new-found confidence but I find myself thinking about how soft his lips look, and how sad his eyes are and how his smile says otherwise.

"I can assure you, this is one-hundred and ten percent the truth."

"No more lying." He holds his hand out, his pinky waiting to cross with mine, but I don't let it.