Pretty Kind of Dirty Face {Matty Healy}

08 // Talk!

{totally wrecked and polemic in the way he talks}

When I awoke, I was still held tightly in Matty's arms. I was warm, comfortable, and just maybe . . . loved. Or at least liked. I stretched within his grasp, a little moan coming out as I uncurled my legs. Matty responded with a move of his arm off of me. I was upset for a second and rolled over to look at him.

He cracked a sleepy smile. "Morning, love." Then, he put his arm around me once more. With a raspy chuckle, he whispered into my ear as he pulled me even closer to him. "Just stretching. Now back to cuddling with you."

I didn't respond. Instead, I just tucked my head under the covers, leaning it against Matty's bare chest. God, this was nice. I wasn't used to cuddling with anyone other than Cecily, and even then it was sporadically and she was drunk. But Matty? His arms were stronger, his grasp was tighter, his little humming as I laid there half asleep was more comforting.

What was I doing? Cuddling? With Matty Healy? If I had been told two days ago that this was where I'd be, I wouldn't have believed it one bit. First of all, Matty wouldn't cuddle with me with there being nothing in it for him. Second, I wouldn't be within fifty feet of him so it would be impossible for us to cuddle, let alone spend an entire night in a motel room together.

But here I was: cuddling with Matty the morning after I spent an entire night with him and just him. Matty was holding me in close to him, and there was no reason for him to. The arrogant, self-centered Matty Healy was doing something that he apparently enjoyed . . . without me giving anything in return. We weren't even dating.

Or were we? I mean we did kiss and we were cuddling . . . ? What else was there left for us to do except hold hands and have sex? Maybe go out for dinner but that wasn't a big deal. We could very well be dating. But we weren't. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to date someone like Matty. He was too obnoxious for his own good. But lying there in his arms certainly made me feel fantastic. I felt safer. I felt loved.

Matty stirred once again. "We should get up," he whispered, his breath tickling the top of my head. I tried to snuggle closer, to force him to stay in bed longer with me, but we were already as close as we could get.

I moaned softly. "Why?"

He laughed softly, a low chuckle that made me smile. "Because it's almost noon and Cecily will be expecting you back soon. As will George for me."

I sighed as Matty's arms disappeared from around me and he rolled out of bed.

"Come on, sleepyhead."

"Fine," I said, sitting up. I smiled at Matty as he crossed the room and disappeared into the bathroom. "I'm ready when you are," I said when he came back in, his hair slightly less messy and his teeth a little whiter. "I left my bag at Cecily's when we left so I don't have my toiletries and I have clothes at her house so I'm good in just this."

Matty laughed. "No you aren't, you can't wear pajamas during the day. Well you can, but that doesn't seem like something you'd want to do."

He was right -- if I was being honest, I was practically scared to death of walking outside in my pajamas. I always looked down on those people who would wear their pajamas in public and I was about to be one of them. But with Matty by my side, did it really matter what people thought?

"Here," he said, picking up his black sweater from the chair in the room and tossing it at me. "Wear this."

"I . . ." I started. "I can't take your clothes, Matty."

Everyone will think you had sex if you wear his shirt, a voice hissed in my head.

Is that such a bad thing? I thought in response.