A/N: Hello! If you are here, you might already know this story. This is my attempt, after reviewing this story on-end for years, to do it more justice and set it on a better course for success. You will recognize a lot of it if you followed it in the past. However, you will notice changes throughout - some large, some minor, some done because, truthfully, what was 2017-me thinking??? Read on through the changes to 'collect them all,' if you will. I hope this version does service to its original, and that it delights you - ESPECIALLY if you are new! Please tell me what you think. Enjoy! :)
Life simply did not wait for those struggling to catch up. Rylee Pateray knew this well.
Her week - a hellfire of sorts - had consisted of nearly every obstacle imaginable. Programs that usually made work bearable were faltering, grades were reflecting the exact opposite of the amount of dedication she was putting in, and it was as if life was dead set on giving her a big F-U. The lack of light in her green eyes and the dark, round circles that formed beneath them were going to gain the attention of her family and her peers at this rate. She loathed the thought of it and their suggestions she knew were on their way down the line. She was her own woman, she could fix herself on her own. She just did not have the time to do it under her current circumstances. That was all.
Seeking refuge, Rylee ended up at the nearest pub she could find. It was no oasis of creativity and productivity, especially with the hefty piña colada she ordered at her side, but it offered her a change of scenery where she could get work done. Or, at least attempt to. Would it be her best work? Surely not. She would probably have to spend a few more sober hours scanning the document after its completion to negate any slip ups or jumbled letters. But, the mere idea of residing in her small flat while being bombarded about getting her life together made her feel ill enough to risk it.
Revising one's paper was easily preferred to revising one's life, after all.
Sipping from her drink, Rylee soon became aware of a group sitting down in the booth in front of her. There were four of them, all guys. Cigarette smoke wafted from their clothes and mixed with the very distinct and poignant scent of vodka. The scent should have been enough to make her move. It normally would have been, had this been any other night. However, this was not any other night, and these boys, despite their smell, were serving as just the perfect display of oddity Rylee needed to get by and forget things for a while.
She continued writing, but refused to look away from the group for too long. It was a motley crew, if she had ever seen one. The two facing away from her shared short hair, dark black and sandy brown respectively. They seemed normal from behind, if she was being honest. Very calm and happy to be there, if their laughs and casual words said anything about it. The other two men facing her were another story.
The one directly ahead of her, obstructed ever so by the sandy brown guy, was intriguing to say the least. He reminded Rylee of Brian May a bit, though his shaggy brown hair still had a while to go to reach such great lengths as his. What little she could see of his jawline matched that of Heath Ledger almost spot on.
She might have dared for a closer look if not for the man at his side. He was a curious creature of sorts, with long, side-swept and curled blackish-brown locks that matched his dark brown eyes. He held the most intriguing of gazes, too. Intense and brooding, yet full of curiosity. It was as if he were guarded or almost uncomfortable due to his surroundings, but quite in favor of those around him. It made Rylee stare at him more, despite herself. Screw her paper, she felt compelled to know why they contradicted themselves in such a way. She sat focused on those eyes, analyzing and wondering, to the point that when they stared right back at hers questioningly, she immediately felt in the wrong. An invader of one's private space from so far away.
Scrambling, she grabbed her drink and took a long swig of it. It stung, but anything was better than feeling the scrutiny she had felt come her way. Even jumping right into the middle of a paragraph, any paragraph, was preferred. She simply wanted to appear busy and not the reason the guy with the deep eyes paused listening to his friends.
But, life was not ready to give Rylee such a break.
She heard it happen before she saw it. He asked his friend, the Heath/Brian figure, to let him out on a claim he needed to check something out. Rylee had the horrible feeling that something was her, and sure enough, he soon appeared at the edge of the table. She could feel his eyes on her, watching, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence, but felt a strong desire to do anything of the sort. She was embarrassed! She rarely was caught being so nosey, especially not on this level. The last thing she wanted to do was to be confronted on it by someone so hard to grasp a hold of as this guy. Yet, he did not seem like one to leave that easy. Sure enough, instead of going back to his friends upon her ignoring of him, he remained in place, foot tapping away.
Apparently, the universe had decided she had to face the music.
And face the music, she did. Up close, the man in question had more of a presence to him. What was a very shy and socially anxious guy in her eyes was now a very confident and somewhat confrontational man before her. His skin looked softer and paler up close and, to her girlish delight, his hair looked even more suiting of him. Those two brown eyes never changed, though. They made Rylee feel like throwing up the longer they sat trained on her.
"Do you wanna' tell me why you've been studying the lads and I for the past few minutes, or would you like me to ignore you stared in the first place?"
Rylee stared back, mind racing. What she expected to be some cheesy line actually was...confrontational? Provoking? She had no clue what to call it. All she knew was that it warranted some sort of clever response to diffuse the tension that entirely escaped her. She gently shut her laptop and shoved it and her drink to the side in an attempt to buy some time for it to come. It never did, though. All it did was draw the man's eyes more to her - her laptop, her drink, and most importantly, her eyes.
"Is ignoring it an option?"
The man let out a laugh, a beautifully breathy thing, and tapped at the tabletop. "Well to be fair, an explanation is sort of what I was hoping to get out of this. Figured it would be nicer of me to give you options, though."
"What a gentleman."
He grinned. "Don't deflect on me, now. I just watched you watch my mates and I like we were on some shitty nature documentary. I hardly think you're in a place to judge me now."
Rylee swallowed, her throat coming up dry. Damn this guy, he was persistent. And smart. And intimidating as hell. She needed more alcohol.
"So, can I have that explanation, or am I gonna' be imagining one for myself tonight?"
"You all looked interesting," said Rylee, finally mustering up the courage to speak. "I couldn't help but look and wonder about you, is all. You're just...different, I guess." The stranger seemed to internalize her words thoroughly before nodding and resuming tapping the table. A few seconds later, he ended up seated right across from Rylee. That, she reckoned, was something she never could have been prepared for even with more alcohol. She bit her lip.
"Are you from around here?"
"Now who is the one wanting to know all about the other?"
"Oh, I hardly think residency equates to an entire lifetime."
"Why do you speak like you're fucking ancient?"
This got the stranger to crack a smile. It was a brilliant one at that, and Rylee found her stomach going up in knots at the mere sight of it. It suited him a heck of a lot more than his brooding gaze from earlier. She wanted to see it again, if possible.
"You never answered my question."
"I live a few meters from here in Liverpool with a friend of mine," Rylee replied, crossing her arms before her, "and technically I was born in America, but I hail primarily from London. So, there you go."
Another nod came her way. "And what's your name then, love?"
Desperate to ignore how good his voice sounded delivering that pet name, Rylee straightened up her back and held her hand out like she would at a job interview - cordial, professional, and anything but enticing. If she was going to go down on whatever ship this man was trying to sail, she at least was going to try to go down fighting. His eyes scanned her hand up and down before finally giving in and taking it in his. It was soft. "Rylee Pateray. And you?"
"Matty Healy."
"Matty," she said, testing the name on her lips. It fit. "Is that short for something?"
"Yes," he said, "but I go by Matty, so it's better you learn to say it from the start. Matthew's so...formal."
"You make that sound like it's a bad thing."
Matty looked down at the table, choosing apparently to continue to be confusing rather than open up. The jerk. "Why are you here tonight, Rylee?"
"I needed a distraction from my flat, family, and friends," she replied, though still in her head about the Matthew thing. Hopefully her words did not sound too harsh to him in delivery. "You?"
"More or less the same. Though," he noted with a soft laugh, "the friends are here. They're good, though. Therapeutic for the mind, I suppose. A palate cleanser for this soul's dreary week's cycle of monotony."
"There you go talking ancient again."
Matty smiled and shrugged. He moved to mess with the salt shaker that rested on the edge of the table, not too bothered by the insult laced within her words. Rylee watched, half impressed and fully aware he was fighting his own battle, too. Lord, was she ever in for it with this guy.
"What would you say to coming and spending the rest of the night with us, Rylee?"
Rylee raised a brow. Okay, really really in for it. Did he seriously expect her to just drop everything - her drink, her laptop, her work - to spend time with him and his group of strangers who reeked of bad decisions? She had no idea what to say back. What did he want her to say? What did he even think she would say? He had to be joking. Definitely joking.
"Are you going back to staring at us again?"
"Are you serious?"
Matty reached up to mess with the tattered curls on his head. It momentarily distracted Rylee, but her frustration returned in no time. Not that Matty noticed, of course. He was much more amused by the salt shaker than her ever-changing facial expressions. Typical guy, he was.
"It's not like we are sending you off to do something illegal," he said gently. He paused a moment to think further before setting the shaker aside. "We'll go hang back at my flat, or take a good walk, or head to another bar if those fellas aren't plastered yet. Whatever amuses us. Whatever we all would be into."
"Don't you guys have something more...productive to do?"
A twinkle appeared in Matty's eye. "Like wasting our lives away in front of a screen until they close the bar?"
"You have to have some type of pressing matter to be working on," Rylee continued, brushing off Matty the best she could. "I mean, don't you all have any school papers to work on, o-or files to send before eight in the morning for some job? You know, like normal people?"
"Nope."
"Okay, now you're just having a laugh."
"And we live comfortably too," Matty smirked, sounding practically giddy. "We all do, free of those boring paper assignments or, what do they call 'em? Cubes? No, cubicles! Yeah, those things. WIth the printers and shit."
"That's impossible."
He shook his head. "Not when you're essentially your own boss."
Now Rylee had to laugh. If there was one thing she never would have pinned the man before her being, it was a boss of anything. Something about the strong smell of drugs and alcohol and his overall demeanor did not scream 'boss' to her. Maybe important, but not boss. Her lack of confidence looked to hurt Matty slightly, but he was quick to regain his composure after a good, deep breath. She watched him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. When it slid over to her across the table, a contact screen showed. Rylee's brow rose yet again.
"Don't believe me? I'll show you then."
"Show me?" She stared down at the screen. "How you're your own boss? How do I know you aren't setting me up for something sketchy? You haven't exactly been super open about all this. What if you're a creep, or some drug dealer looking to bring in customers, or-
"You give me far too much credit, love."
"That's another thing," Rylee said, growing more flustered. "Stop calling me love! You barely know me!"
Matty scooted his phone closer to Rylee. "And yet you know for certain I'm a drug-dealing creep after one conversation with me."
Rylee met his eye. He might not be trouble, but boy was he ever the troublesome type.
"Look, you seem bothered with your work tonight. If you'd like, come and learn our business tomorrow. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about us and how bad it is to live with prejudiced opinions in the process. If not, I suppose disregard the text I'll send and live content knowing what you know about us so far."
"You sound so...so..."
"Pretentious?" Matty asked, cocking his head to the side. "Condescending? Like a downright know-it-all prat? Would not be the first time someone said that, love."
"I think I am going to hate you and that stupid pet-name."
Matty grinned, seeing Rylee grab his phone and furiously tap in her contact info. The way she seemed to be at war with her mind fascinated him more than he could ever properly convey. It was incredibly endearing to him. If only she knew. "We'll see about that. Until then, I suppose I should get back to my friends and let you do...whatever you thought this was before."
Rylee shoved Matty's phone back at him and folded her arms. "Earning a living for myself? Behaving like anyone else on a...what, Wednesday night? Adulting?"
"See you later love," he said, winking and slipping out of the booth. He nearly made it to his table before turning back, his hair falling into his face - distracting as always. "Oh, and not that I'm sure you'll care, but...you look nice."
Damn him.
Rylee watched in what could only be described as shock and slight awe as Matty returned to his friends and proposed ditching the place. They followed his idea as if he were a god, one by one filing out of the booth and to the door like good little subjects. Rylee noticed the Heath/Brian get stopped before he could follow in their tracks, his shaggy hair swishing in the quick action. Matty leaned into him and shared a whispered conversation. To her horror, it led to her getting pointed at. Very obviously pointed at.
Her stomach twisted into knots once more.
Rylee had no idea why, but the head shake from Matty that followed and the supportive frown and pat on the back given by his friend hurt a bit to see. Even though she wished nothing more than to fight her so-called stranger for being so frustrating earlier, she never wished to hurt him. Especially given the compliment he left her. Had she hurt him? Was he, this pothead poet, truly only trying to be genuine with her?
Going back to her work, Rylee paused for a moment to think. The more she thought, the more her phone resting beside her untouched and the message she knew it contained became more appealing. Swallowing her pride and unable to help herself, Rylee grabbed it and checked her most recent messages. Above senseless jabber from her roommate was Matty's text, his number unregistered yet his demeanor easily recognizable. Rylee peered down at the message.
"If you care to spend the time, meet us at the Echo Arena tomorrow. Six or so. Tell the tall burly guy with the wicked long beard out back that Matty sent you. He'll know. See you, love. -M"
Clicking shut the phone, Rylee clenched her fists, released them, sipped from her drink, and then went back to work. She had quite some work to do before tomorrow night, and a whole lot of thinking.
~~~~~~
"You what?"
Rylee swung her legs off the edge of her bed. "It's nothing, Lynn. I think this bloke just wants to take me to some concert tonight. He's probably a photographer or some shit trying to show off that he got access to a big venue event. It's free though, so I guess I'll try it out. If anything, maybe I'll have a little fun."
Lynn outright laughed at Rylee, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "You have to be fuckin' joking right now."
"What?"
"His name is Matty Healy, you said?" Rylee nodded. Lynn squealed, throwing herself back onto the bed. Her ginger hair bounced on the sheets around her, falling to cover her face. "Oh, you're going to be having a bit more than a little fun, Ryles!"
"Excuse me?"
"You fuckin' got hit on by a rockstar last night!"
Her stomach dropped. He couldn't be. There was no way. Him? "Are you serious?"
Lynn nodded, another high-pitched noise escaping her. "He's the lead of The 1975, you dope! Have you seriously never heard of them?"
"Honestly? Never."
"This is fuckin' brilliant," she kicked her legs in glee. "No wonder he invited you to his performance, he probably thinks you are fucking rare treating him like he's nobody! Guys get off on that kind of power trip, you know!"
"Cut it out Lynn," Rylee said, running her hands through her hair. She tried her best to shoo away the butterflies of doubt creeping into her body by switching to braiding it - an old nervous habit from secondary school she had yet to break. "I didn't treat him like he was nobody. I just treated him like he was some random guy speaking to me at a bar, which he was. And he looked nothing like a rockstar, by the way. He smelled of weed and...and he was wearing some obnoxious outfit...and he spoke like a fuckin' poet!"
"You just described Matty Healy to me."
Rylee groaned and leaned back on the bed. "What the fuck am I supposed do then, if you're right? I'm not prepared for some big concert with a celebrity. I don't even know his music...or him, honestly! As of only a few moments ago I thought he was just some Shakespearish troublemaker looking for a good night. How the hell am I supposed to act like it's not insane? Oh god, what if he wants me to be like a groupie? I am not groupie material, Lynn. I'm just not."
Lynn struggled not to laugh. "Relax Ryles," she calmed, getting up off her end of the bed to sit beside her. "Matty's cool from what I know of him. His songs are really good, too. If he lets you to see the concert tonight, I think you'll be in for a treat."
Rylee sighed. "I suppose all of that eloquent speech shit has to manifest itself somewhere."
Lynn smiled and patted Rylee's arm. "That's the spirit. And I doubt he wants you as a groupie, by the way. Those things aren't usually night-before choices followed up with a sweet text and the words 'you look nice'."
"And how do you know that?"
"I don't keep my face shoved inside textbooks every day," Lynn teased, shooting her friend a wink. "Now, not that I want to make this experience any more rough for you, but I made myself a promise that if you ever got swept up by someone attractive and exciting, I'd dress you and make you look stunning. I plan to make good on that promise."
Rylee sat up to protest, only to be met with the stern eyes of her friend and a hand pushing her right back down into the pillows.
Lynn, her dearest friend Lynn, was unstoppable. Rylee knew when was a fashionista at heart, but also knew she had that fiery red-head nature within her that swore she would have little choice in the matter once she fell into her element. She watched helpless on the bed as countless outfits she wished to never be caught dead in were strung about the room, ranging from skimpy dresses to items far too flashy for her taste. Although she knew Lynn only meant well, each new outfit seemed to only dissatisfy Rylee more. If the outing itself wouldn't kill her, this experience surely would.
"Well," Lynn said after another few minutes of pulling clothes, "what do you like?"
"Don't take this the wrong way," Rylee said, lacing her apologetic tone with hints of her true annoyance, "but I'd rather go nude than wear at least half of this."
"You can't go nude until at least the third date, Rylee."
"Lynn!"
Lynn giggled. "Fine, bloody choose your own gear. I wash my hands of whatever horrid choice you're going to make. Although, one day I will get you to wear something I pick around that boy. I'll be damned if you take that chance away from me after all these years of knowing ya'."
Rylee scrunched up her nose. "Now you're talking to me as if we're going to be an item, too?"
"What?"
"Matty," Rylee replied. "He kept saying stuff implying a future between us. What's with that?"
"Dunno," said Lynn, "but I'd consider yourself damn lucky he did."
"Why?"
"I might be making something out of nothing," she said with a shrug as she moved to put away a few of the flashier dresses, "but he's always given off the hint he might be a womanizer."
Just a second ago you called him cool!"
Lynn rolled her eyes. "I said he probably wouldn't fancy you as a groupie, not that he's never had past ones or the occasional fling. From all his songs, I wouldn't doubt he's far opposed to occasional at this point."
"Oh god."
"He's also really deep though," Lynn went on to say after hanging up what Rylee knew was her favorite purple dress. "He seems like he can be really vulnerable and in tune with his emotions if you get him in his element."
Huffing, Rylee handed Lynn another dress from by her side. "You're starting to sound all whimsical like he is, Lynn."
"All I'm saying is that you should give him a chance, but keep on your guard." Lynn motioned for Rylee to enter the closet. "What I know makes me want you to be cautious, but who knows...he may be a wonderful guy with bad luck snagging someone good."
"Or just be some bloke who hooks up with randoms and dresses like he raided a thrift store's 80s section."
Lynn giggled. She picked her friend up and pushed Rylee into the closet, ruffling her hair for good measure. "Shut up and get yourself dressed, you. I've still got to do your makeup all pretty so you'll wow Matty 'Womanizer' Healy."
"Fuck off."
Scanning the closet after Lynn went to prepare her makeup box, Rylee realized that she really was not sure what to wear. Obviously, everything Lynn had taken out and put back was a no-go, but the other options seemed endless. Flipping through her clothes, her eyes eventually fell on a cream half-sleeved top, light skinny jeans, and her favorite black lace-up leather boots. She got a groan of disgust from Lynn when she walked out for looking so 'basically white', but Rylee felt confident in her choice. She liked it, she felt free in it, and well...maybe it would let Matty know what he was dealing with. Someone serious and most definitely not looking to be a groupie of any kind.
Nope. Not at all.
A quick makeup session later, and Rylee was good to go. Her golden hair rested freely down to the curve of her back, and her eyes now looked fierce with a sharp cat eye. She looked and felt casually beautiful. Lynn even had to admit she looked great, despite her nose turning up at the outfit. She followed Rylee out to her car before giving her a supportive hug and wishing her luck. Promising to get her an autograph, Rylee said goodbye and made her way off to the arena and her fate. Hopefully, she would know what she was doing when she got there. Or, at least look like she did.