Friend? Do friends cuddle like that? Maybe I was making a mountain out of a mole hill. Maybe Chelsea was right; I just needed to get laid. Here I was obsessing over both George and Matty, when I shouldn't even seriously consider being with either of them.
Part of me was glad George had gone, I needed time to myself. My worries washed away, quite literally, as I showered. I scrubbed my body, lathered and conditioned my hair, and shaved all the necessary parts.
Deciding I should pick up an outfit for this no-doubtedly awkward party at George's tonight, I headed to a cute little boutique and picked out a pair of adorable jean shorts that barely covered my booty and a white lace crop top with a sweetheart neckline and long sleeves. If I was going to fuck anyone tonight, this would let them know.
Back at my apartment, I tossed the bags onto the kitchen table and sat in the chair, forcing myself to crunch on the salad I had bought. I was already wrecked with nerves, and scrolling through Matty's and Geroge's Facebooks didn't help. A plethora of questions came to my head.
One: Can anything get cuter than George Daniel in a hat?
That one was answered quickly when I saw George in a hat, WITH his dog.
Two: Who the fuck is Noelle and WHY is she sitting in George's lap in this picture?
Three: Matty, how does one possibly make girls giddy simply by watching you smoke a cigarette?
Four: Why do you look so good in black and white stills, you pretentious little shit?
Five: What kind of shampoo do you use, because seriously your hair is goals.
I sighed and forced my laptop shut. Maybe there would be a lot of people at this party. Maybe I could make friends. Maybe I didn't need to get laid, maybe I was just lonely. I missed Chelsea and her big mouth. She would know what to do.
I had rearranged my desk four times before I was satisfied. It killed enough time, though. After adding some curls to my long nearly-black hair, I tossed it down over my shoulders and it nearly reached the small of my back. I was happy every time I did my hair this way- never decide to get a bob if you aren't completely committed.
My make-up was done, after a few nude shadows, a bold cat-eye, and some matte fuschia lips. I was ready; if ableit physically.
The noise from their party could be heard down the street. There were cars everywhere, but not even enough to justify the amount of noise. I tapped on the door and waited, breathing in and out anxiously. It took a few more tries, but someone finally answered.
Cheekbones.
"Oh, hey," he said, a beer bottle in his hand.
His face was sweet, and I had a feeling his personality was too.
"Hi, I'm Claire," I introduced myself, officially.
He eyed me uncomfortably, but friendly enough. I'm glad he was as nervous as I.
"Adam. Or Hann, whichever. Come in," he said, motioning for me to enter.
I followed him into the party. Sonic Youth was blaring, and it smelled like booze and weed. No surprise there.
"Is my buddy here?" I asked.
Adam's face twisted awkwardly.
"Erm...which one?" he asked.
My teeth clenched, although I couldn't blame him. He had seen Matty and I dry-humping.
"Sorry, I'm not trying to be awful or anything....erm, George?" he asked.
I simply nodded, forcing a weak smile.
Adam gestured toward the kitchen, where George was standing amongst a small crowd of people. He was wearing a pair of knit trousers that fit him quite nicely, an an Aztek printed sweater.
"Claire!" he shouted, jogging over to me and picking me up in a hug, his hands cupping my ass as he did so.
Whoa. He was probably drunk, but still.
"You look cute as a button," he told me.
"Thank you, please put me down," I giggled.
He honored my request and stood me next to him and his group of friends. I recognized Ross from the club.
"Shit, your friend's fucking fit, mate," Ross let out.
George shot him a look. "Aye!"
Ross shrugged. "Don't get so defensive."
George shot him another, darker look, and Ross laughed.
"I'm Ross, and I'm kind of an asshole. Nice to meet you," he stuck his hand out.
I took it. I liked his honesty. He was funny.
George put his long, tattooed arm around me and continued a conversation with Ross about beats. He was such a nerd, but I felt so cozy and small next to him. It was nice that they were doing most of the talking. Some people mistook my shy personality for me being stuck-up. In reality, it was just the opposite. I always felt I couldn't keep up with a conversation.
I noticed, embarrassingly quickly, that Matty was nowhere to be found. This is what I had wanted, right? So why was I so disappointed?
George and I had downed two whiskey and cokes each, and were reminiscing about our childhood. I couldn't find a seat so he hoisted me up onto the kitchen counter and had his pelvis resting in between my legs.
"What was George like as a boy?" Ross quizzed.
I shrugged and smiled. "Pretty much the same. Tall, friendly, sweet. Sucks his thumb and plays with dolls."
George didn't like to be teased.
"Oh, don't go there with me. Or you'll have to suffer my wrath," he said, raising an eyebrow and finishing his drink.
"Nooo," I said, bracing myself with my hand against his chest.
George started to tickle me lightly and I squealed. Ross looked at us like we were slow kids.
"Christ, get a room," he joked.
"Piss off, Ross. We're just friends," George explained.
Right. Friends.
"Hey, where the hell's Matty?" George asked either Ross or Adam.
Matty. Ya know, that dude who looked at you and got your panties wet? The one with the majestic hair, voice of angel, eyes that fused the pieces of your broken soul back together? Yeah, that one.
"Probably gettin' his dick pulled," Ross shrugged. "Haven't seen him."
George nodded. Matty probably got his dick pulled on the daily. George probably did bi-daily, not because he wasn't as hot, but because he was slightly more selective. Or at least I thought so.
"Booze run," Adam explained.
A cute girl stood next to him, her ashy blonde hair in a fishtail braid, sipping on a drink through a straw and bobbing her head to the music.
"Is this your girlfriend?" I asked Hann.
The girl's features squished together and she pretended she was vomiting.
"Blegh! Nope. I'm his sister," she explained.
Hann made a half-smile and playfully smacked his little sister's shoulder.
"Hi, I'm Claire," I said, giving her a gentle wave.
She swriled the liquid in her cup around with her straw and smiled at me. She did look quite a bit like Adam, but with more delicate features and bigger eyes.
"Tinsley," she introduced herself. "You're like really pretty!"
I laughed but thanked her for the compliment.
"You know who you look like? Lana Del Rey!" she said, her eyes getting wide.
It wasn't the first time I had heard this, but I couldn't ever put myself in the same catergory as Queen Lana. I did suppose we had similar features: the long dark hair, the full lips, the big eyes, the taste in men.
"Yes, she does," George agreed. "If Lana Del Rey were shorter and less melodramatic."
Tinsley rolled her eyes at George and started to make herself another drink.
"She's a goddness among us all," Tinsley said.
I liked her, she was fun. Tinsley and I air-fived and giggled at each other.
Our sudden friendly banter was intterrupted when George leaned into me even further, putting one hand on the small of my back and reaching over to retrieve a glass from the cabinet. My face was buried in his chest for a minute, and he smelled so good.
"'Scuze me," he mumbled, handing the glass to Ross and taking his big warm hands from the bare skin on my lower back.
"Thanks, mate," Ross said, pouring whiskey into the glass.
Adam shook his head at Ross. "And you say Matty's pretentious."
"Right. Here's this asshole who won't use the plastic cups," George said.
Ross immitated them both, making a stupid face and yapping his lips.
"Fuck off. This whiskey's expensive and I won't degrade it by putting it in a cheap plastic cup," Ross explained himself.
Tinsley giggled at Ross, and their eyes met for a minute before she looked away nervously.
"Are these guys always like this?" I asked her.
She flashed a pretty smile at me. "No. They're usually worse."
The booze was running straight through me, and I slid off the counter top after asking the guys where the bathroom was. I relieved myself then looked in the mirror. Not to brag, but I looked cute. My make-up was perfect and my curves were hugged graciously in this outfit.
A light tap on the door interrupted me as I was drying my hands off on a hand towel. Side note: I was proud of my Georgie for having a set of matching hand towels, though I secretly thought his mum had done this.
I opened the door and froze.
Matty's hands were placed on the door frame, and he was already too close to me. He was wearing a pair of dark grey jeans, and a deep v-neck white shirt with long sleeves he'd rolled up crisply to his elbows.
Seeing him standing there startled me and I dropped my phone.
"Hi," I said, turning around, bending over and retrieving my phone.
"Jesus," he said huskily.
"What?" I blinked.
"Your ass is fucking phenomenal."
His eyes burned into mine.
"Uhm...." I looked around the bathroom. "D-did you have to use the bathroom?"
Matty shook his head.
"So....so why are you here?" I questioned him.
"Because I knew you were in here," he answered, his hair playfully resting against his brow. It was up tonight, and, just in case you were curious, Matty Healy could rock a man bun like no other.
"How'd you know I was in the bathroom?" I asked.
Matty's face was expressionless. "George."
I gulped. George.
Matty put a hand on my hip before escorting me further into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind us.
"What are you doing?" I demanded.
Matty scoffed. "Are you shagging George?"
Uhm. Not exactly....
"No?" I scrunched my face up.
He didn't ask if I wanted to shag George, just if I was shagging George.
Matty's rich brown eyes twinkled. "Cool."
He stepped closer to me and put his hands on my waist, touching my jaw softly with his lips.
"What are you doing?" I asked him.
Matty ignored me, moving his mouth to my neck and sucking at its flesh.
God, I forgot how good he was at that. His lips touched mine, so achingly softly.
"Matty!" I said, smacking his shoulder. "What. Are. You. Doing?"
"Trying to fuck you," he whispered into my ear, his hands squeezing my ass.
I started to tremble as he kissed my collar bone and ran a cool hand up my shirt, beginning to unclasp my bra. I bruied my face in his neck, pushing against his skin delicately. Just as I had the urge run my fingers through his hair and wrap my legs around him, I stopped myself.
"Stop," I exhaled.
I couldnt fuck Matty Healy in a bathroom. He sighed and raked his fingers through his glorious hair.
"Alright," he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.
The way he was standing made it very clear how much he wanted me. Christ almighty he was huge.
"Why are you so hesitant?" he asked me. "I know I come on strong, but honestly, this is me holding back. I'm completely enamoured with you."
Ugh, he was so smart.
I let out an unnaturally long sigh before closing the lid on the toilet seat and sitting down.
"I....I like you. I do," I stuttered.
"But?"
George.
"Georgie and I are friends," I explained.
Matty didn't look satisfied.
"Who cares?"
Apparently not Matty.
George and I were friends, yes. But also, really, really good friends who flirted a lot. I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't be the girl who he starts to fall for but fucks his best friend. His other best friend.
"George does," I informed him.
Matty rolled his eyes and tousled his hair. "George doesn't know about us."
I dismissed the notion by waving my hand in the air.
"I know. But he knows about you. I...I just don't wanna get mixed up, that's all," I trailed off.
Matty's face was an enigmatic thing. One minute, it would be lit with passion, and the next, it would be as serious and hard as stone.
"Jesus Christ, what the hell did George tell you?" he asked.
Nothing I couldn't have figured out myself, I thought. I shrugged my shoulder weakly.
"How did this conversation even come up?" Matty asked, adjusting the collar of his shirt.
I sighed once more. "We were talking about how I met you guys. I guess he could tell I...I...was intrigued by you by the way I talked about you. He told me I shouldn't entertain the idea," I explained.
"And do you do everything that George says?" he continued.
I didn't know what to say. I just knew this couldn't happen. Not here, not now, maybe (probably) not ever. Even if George wasn't into me and was just an enormous flirt, I still didn't want to get tangled in with one of his friends. Especially with one who would discard me so quickly.
Matty stepped toward me and bent down, his face inches from mine.
"Well,then, so be it. Just so you know, I would have loved to fuck you," he said, gently pecking me on the cheek. "Come on, let's go pretend you got lost."
He reached out a hand and I took it. The soft skin of his hands were a stark contrast to his calloused fingertips.
"Ready?" he winked at me.
I nodded, still dizzy from our encounter.
Matty opened the door and, of course, there stood company.Adam's face went flat in frustration as he was Matty and I exiting the bathroom together, hand in hand.
"C'mon, man!" Adam complained.
Matty shrugged playfully. I couldn't even look at Adam.
"Hann, you're always in the wrong place at the wrong time," Matty laughed.
God.
I jerked my hand from Matty's and wandered into the packed living room and into the kitchen. Matty paced behind me, smart enough to know to keep a little distance.
Ross was pouring tequila into shot glasses in the kitchen while George was cutting a lime into exquisite segments. I didn't see Tinsley anywhere, maybe she had gone home.
"Get lost?" George asked me.
"For a minute there," I answered honestly.
George plucked a small glass container of salt from the cabinet and sat it on the counter. A really pretty, really drunk girl was standing close to him. She had blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a tattoo of two arrows on her collar bone. I wracked my brain to think of where I had seen her before.
"Noelle, you want one?" George asked his...friend.
Noelle. The Facebook picture girl who was sitting in his lap.
"Duh," she said, inching her body closer to his.
"Claire, this is my friend Noelle," George explained.
Noelle merely gave me fake smile. I gave her the same in return.
"Matty?" George asked Matty, who was just now entering the room.
"Sure," he said, standing by me but not too close.
George poured five shots; for himself, me, Matty, Ross, and Noelle. Hann had declined.
"Cheers," George said.
We took our shots and Noelle made an annoying "whooo!" sound before placing a lime in George's mouth. I rolled my eyes and turned to Matty, who was licking salt off his hand. I imagined other things he could lick well...
"Oi, what the hell took you so long? Did you take a giant shit in the bathroom?" Ross asked Matty.
George was pouring more shots, and Noelle was hanging off his arm. She was saying something to him that I couldn't quite make out. It's not that she wasn't pretty enough for him, because she was. She just didn't seem interesting. At all.
Who was I kidding? I didn't even know her. I just didn't like how she was touching George. I especially didn't like how he was letting her.
"No, Ross. I was...preoccupied," Matty said, accepting the shot George handed him.
"Who have you been fucking?" Ross asked him bluntly, poking the lipstick I had apparently left on his collar.
Matty licked his lips. "I dont kiss and tell."
Thank God, I thought as Ross rolled his eyes.
"Right," he sad said sarcastically.
My face turned white as snow. Matty shrugged a shoulder and said nothing, instead sipping his tequila and acting like no one else mattered.
"Aw, mate, you didn't fuck her in the bathroom, did you?! I thought there was a no bathroom fucking rule in this house!" Ross demanded.
Adam was becoming visbily uncomfortable, rightfully so.
Matty's eyes looked up at Ross and he told him to fuck off, non-verbally.
"You guys have a no fucking in the bathroom rule? Really?" I asked, trying to play it off.
Technically, we didn't fuck.
"There was a small incident..minor plumbing damage," Matty explained.
I shot him an incredulous look.
Matty put his hands in the air defenseively. "Not me."
Ross burst into laughter. "Nope, all George!"
What. The. Fuck.
George shrugged sheepisly. "The past is the past."
Noelle's hand was in George's now, and I was disgusted.
"Pass the salt?" Matty asked me.
I reached over and handed him the salt shaker as Noelle and George disappeared somewhere.
"I think I'm going to head out," Adam said, completely done with the awkwardness. He had been a trooper.
"Better give me a lift, I'm fucking pissed," Ross bolted. "Better yet, call your hot sister, I'd love it if she gave me a RIDE."
Adam's brows furrowed together. "I will fucking kill you, Ross."
Ross shrugged. "It'd be worth it."
The guys all exchanged bro-hugs and Adam and Ross left, leaving Matty and I in the kitchen with a few select people I didn't know.
"Would you like another?" Matty asked me.
Fuck it.
"Sure," I said.
Matty and I took the shot, licked the salt, and sucked the limes in unison. I pursed my lips as the liquor went down my throat. It was icy cold, tangy, and sour. It was my favorite.
"Have you got a cigarette?" I asked him.
He nodded, reaching into his back pocket, but coming up empty-handed.
"I think they're in my room," he said.
Oh, nice segue, Matty. I raised a brow at him.
"Relax," he eased me. "Come on," he said, stepping out of the kitchen and past several rooms in a long hallway.
Their place was pretty spacious for two guys in and up and coming band. Granted, their parents were loaded. Matty opened the door and cocked his head for me to go inside. I looked at him, uneasy.
"Listen, you know I'm not gonna--"
He cut me off.
"It's fine, Claire. We're just here to smoke a cigarette and finish this bottle," Matty said, entering the room.
I followed him in and he closed the door behind us. His room was spacious, with white walls, dark wood floors and furniture, and a (surprisingly) made large bed with a black duvet. There were a few posters and pieces of art on the wall; one a portrait of Kerouac, another of Burroughs, one of David Bowie. He had two bookshelves filled row to row with beaten-up books. There was a desk with a laptop, small lamp, and a stack of black sketchbooks.
Matty strutted around the room and turned on the lamp, and off the harshness of the bright light. He lit a candle with a match and put a cigarette in his mouth, easing it down into the flame before taking a long drag and looking up at me.
Ugh, I could watch him do stuff like this all day.
He offered me one and I took it, lighting it in the same way he did.
"I like your room," I said, awkwardly but sincerely.
"I do, too," he said, sitting down on the bed, patting it and gesturing for me to sit down by him.
I shrugged and did as he asked.
"What do you like about it?" he asked me.
"Well, I like your posters. They're really good portraits. I like all of your books, too. You have quite a collection."
Matty nodded. "Oh, yeah. I love to read."
"Me too, " I said generically.
Matty's eyes taunted me and he smirked.
"What?" I asked.
He let out a chuckle as he exhaled smoke.
"Nothing. Where are you from?" he asked me.
"California," I answered.
Matty's face looked interested. "Mmm. Los Angeles?"
I shook my head. "No, I mean I go to school at UCLA, but I'm from a smaller town up north. There's lots of old people there. And grapes, and wine," I told him.
"That's fascinating," he said.
I giggled. "Is it?" I asked.
"I love grapes. I love wine," Matty smiled.
His smile was so perfect.
"What are you studying?" he asked me.
I told him I was studying English, with a focus on women's literature, and that I planned to either be a literary historian or teach, I hadn't yet decided.
"You're great," Matty sighed. "And I can't fuck you!"
He put his hands on the sides of his head and groaned.
I laughed at him.
"Why do you want to, anyways?" I asked.
Maybe I shouldn't have asked this, but deep down, I had to know.
"Oh, you know the answer to that, babe," he said, putting his cigarette out into a glass of water.
"Do I?" I asked him.
Matty licked his lips and contemplated.
"Well," he began. "Firstly, you're gorgeous. I mean, look at those dark eyes, and your lips. Your breasts, your ass...those legs," he eyed my legs and carefully traced his fingers up my thigh. "I mean, how could you walk into my house in those shorts and expect me to behave?" he said playfully.
I laughed at him. "I don't know what I expected."
"You're funny. You're smart. You don't go out of your way to impress me, so I know you're genuine. I quite like you," he said, softly, and looking at the blanket.
I was lost for words. "I like you too."
Matty crossed his legs and made his hands into a triangle, resting his fingertips at his nose.
"Hey, who's that Noelle girl?" I asked him, knowing I probably shouldn't have.
Matty stretched his neck. "Oh, her? She's boring," he said.
I agreed with him, debating on whether or not I should push for more information.
"Her band is awful," Matty continued.
Apparently, she was in the band that went after them that night at the club. They sounded like a really shitty Garbage cover band. I couldn't disagree with Matty, and wanted more detail though I know I shouldn't push for it. It was odd George didn't tell me about her. Then again, maybe it wasn't odd. Maybe George was just extra-friendly with all of his female friends.
"And George is fucking her," Matty said indifferently.
I had thought that I wanted to know, but now that I did, I regretted bringing it up.
"Really?" I said. I was repulsed.
Matty nodded, offering me the tequila. I didn't know if he was telling me this to stir shit up between George and I, or if he was just mentioning it casually.
"Would you like to play a game?" he asked me, his voice chipper.
"What kind of game?" I asked.
"Whatever you like," he asked.
I thought for a moment. "True or False?"
Matty noded, his curls bouncng against his face.
"True or False: I've never smoked weed." I started.
Matty scoffed. "False, of course."
I looked at him and blinked.
He looked stunned. "Seriously?"
I shook my head. I was so lame. He took a swig of the tequila, a requirement of the game if you guess incorrectly.
"We'll continue this game as I roll a spliff for us to smoke, love," Matty said. "My turn?"
He stood and retrieved a box from his desk drawer, opeing it up and removing weed from a small baggie. He was breaking it down carefully and thinking of his statement.
"True or False: I've seen True Romance more times than I have fingers to count," he said.
I guessed true, and I was correct.
"True or False: I'm a virgin," I said flatly.
Matty stopped preparing his spliff and looked at me intensely. "If you say true, so help me..."
"False!" I laughed.
He shook his curls and continued his work, placing the weed into rolling paper and rolling it into a perfect little package.
"True or False: I own eleven pairs of the same black jeans."
Wow, of course.
"True," I guessed correctly.
Matty sealed the end of the joint with the kiss of a flame before bringing it to me.
"True or False: I've only slept with three men," I said.
Matty lit the joint and inched an eyebrow up. "Mmm, that's sweet. True?"
I nodded and took a small hit of the joint. It was thick and had a taste as strong as its smell. My body already felt a little lighter.
"True or False: I've slept with nineteen women," Matty stated.
I cocked my head and thought about it. "True?"
He took the spliff from me and handed me the bottle, nonverbally telling me it was false. I took a little swig and coughed.
"More or less?" I ventured.
"More," Matty said, blowing out perfect smoke rings. "I've no idea how many, but much more than that."
Well, then.
The marijuana and tequila were making me feel like I was floating, slightly dizzy, and giddy.
"True or False," I began. "I'm probably going to let you fuck me, eventually."
The moment the words came from my lips, I was in shock at my own self.
Matty's deep eyes were glazed as his luscious mouth twisted up into a half-smile.
"That one's true," he said softly.
I took another hit from the joint and rested my back against the dark headboard. Matty lie across the bed and put his head in my lap, continuing to puff on the joint. It was this strange sensation of yearning, with his handsome face being that close to my aching warmth, and comfort, the look in his eyes so sleepy and content.
"Just not tonight," he said.
I giggled a little. "No, not tonight."
He shrugged, leaning over and tossing the joint into the same glass he'd put the cigarette in earlier. "It's quite alright, love."
Matty turned his face to me and locked my eyes in his. His features looked so handsome and delicate at the same time in this light. He began laughing and his teeth showed. They were ridiculously adorable. I loved when Matty smiled like this. Of course, I loved is smoldering smile, his boutta-fuck-you smile, his I'm-so-much-more-clever-than-you smile. But this one? This was rare.
He fiddled with the hem of my shorts, then traced the button at my lower navel.
Matttyyyy...
"Will you sleep with me?" he asked me.
"Didn't we just discuss this?" I asked. I was really wasted.
"No, we decided we aren't going to fuck tonight. I am asking you, Claire, to simply sleep with me. That's all," he suggested.
It wasn't an entirely bad idea. George was nowhere to be found, I had no other friends here. I didn't want to spend the money in a cab. George would be likely snoozing until mid-day, so I could sneak out in the morning.
"Okay," I said. What did it matter anyways? "But I'll need to change clothes. I can't sleep in this," I said.
"I'll arange that" Matty said, getting up and pulling a shirt out of his dresser. It was just a long black T-shirt, but it was soft and cozy and smelled like him.
He sat the shirt on the bed next to me, and I stood, kicking off my shoes and sliding my shorts down, revealing my panties with cupcakes printed on them.
"Shut up," I said before he could make fun of me.
I continued to undress, and turned my back to him as I took my bra off and tossed it onto his bedside table. I slid the shirt over me and turned around to face him. He was staring at me the way a starved man would stare at a buffet, and I liked it.
Matty took my hand and guided me to the bed, pulling the covers down for me and sliding in himself. We returned to our same position, with his head in my lap. Ugh, Matty's weed was good.
From even this distance, I could smell his hair. It was a crisply masculine smell, tinged with something satiny and sweet. I loved it.
"What are you thinking about?" Matty said tenderly.
"Your hair," I giggled.
He chuckled beneath me, his cheek resting at my navel.
"Can I play with it?" I asked, eyeing his full, bouncy locks.
"Mmm-mmm," Matty shook his head and finger. "Can't touch the hair til we fuck, love."
I accepted his terms and conditions, but I wasn't happy with them.
"I'll have to jet out in the morning before George wakes. I don't want him to know I stayed here. He'll never believe that nothing happened between us," I informed Matty.
Matty undid his hair from his bun and tossed the hair tie on the bedside table.
"Alright. I don't think it's fair, though. I mean he's likely off fucking that idiot girl, but he has the audacity to be mad you slept in my bed?" Matty questioned.
He had a point, but I still didn't want the conflict.
Matty got up out of bed and went into the bathroom attached to his room. I heard him brushing his teeth for a few minutes before he came back out, shucking off his jeans and revealing his-nearly naked body. His fitted black boxer-briefs were low-cut, showing nearly all the tattoo on his hip-bone. Matty wasn't a big and buff guy, but his body was defintitely hot: toned, tattooed, and a softly-scetched six pack. It didn't help that he was flopping his hair around, either.
Not tonight, Claire. Not tonight.
He switched the lamp off and crawled into bed on top of me, planting a quick peck on my nose before rolling over onto his back. A giggle of mine turned into a yawn, then I turned on my side to rest my head against his chest.
"How many girls have been in your bed?" I asked him, genuinely curious to know the answer.
Matty yawned, too. "Hah, I haven't a remote sense. Dozens? Why do you want to know these terrible aspects of my personality?"
I shrugged. "Dunno. Just think you're interesting."
The room was silent and still, aside from Matty's breathing, which began to slow down over the next few minutes as he began his journey into sleep.
"Matty?" I whispered.
"Yes?" He mumbled.
Oh, his voice when he was sleepy.
"Do you only like me because I won't sleep with you?"
It was a fair enough question to ask.
"Sort of," he said groggily. "Not simply because you won't, but why you won't. You know you're worth the wait, and I like that. And I like that you're partial to George, since I'm partial to him as well."
Perfect answer, I guess.
Something about the way he spoke drew me to him, completely. I leaned into him and kissed his lips briefly, then put my head back on his chest.
"You have to fall asleep, first, love," Matty whispered to me.
"Why?"
"Because I want to watch you sleep for a bit before I go myself," he let out.
And I gave him just what he wanted, falling asleep against his chest, his hands in my hair, holding me tight. I hadn't slept that well in months. In my sleep, Matty watched me dream of him.
The sun was an impatient bitch the next morning. It sept through my lashes and woke me, and I was immediately grump that I didn't wake in Matty's arms. I sat up in bed, noticing that the shower was running in Matty's bathroom. I had to pee, and figured our boundaries were already weird.
Matty's naked body was visible through the glass shower door. It was far too early for me to be this horny. My mouth fell open at the sight of his adorable bum, but it was when he turned around to face me that my jaw dropped to the floor.
His hair was soaked, and as he ran his fingers though it, rinsing out the conditioner, he flashed a flirty smile at me and winked. I dug my nails into my palms, resisting the urge to jump in the shower with him and give him any part of my body he wanted.
Matty turned the water off, threw a towel around his waist and pecked me on the cheek.
"Good morning," he said.
"Hi," I said. "I have to pee."
"By all means, beautiful," Matty said, exiting the room.
After using the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror for I'm not sure how long. My makeup was smudged, my hair was a fucking disaster. But, for some reason, I looked quite pretty, and particularly happy.
Matthew Healy, being the gentleman that he is, had laid my clothes out for me on the bed. I didn't really expect that of him.
"Do you want anything?" he asked me.
I smiled at him. "Sure. What are you having?"
Matty slid into some boxers and tied his damp curls into a bun. "Tea with milk and sugar. And a fag," he returned my smile.
"I'll take the same," I requested.
While Matty was making tea, I washed the smudged makeup from my face and dressed myself in my shorts and one of Matty's t-shirts, tying it in a knot at the back so it looked remotely feminine. Not that Matty's clothes were necessarily all that masculine...
I really, really hoped George was still sleeping.
Matty returned, with two tea mugs and a cigarette in his mouth. Fuck, he was so handsome.
"Thank you," I said. "You're so sweet."
"Nice top," he eyed his shirt on my body.
"Do you mind?" I asked him.
He shook his head and sipped his tea, sitting cross-legged on the bed. I took a seat next to him and took the cigarette from his mouth, taking a puff before returning it to him.
"I like when you do things like that," he said.
"Things like what?" I asked him.
"Intrude on my life," he said.
My heart fluttered. He was a damn good flirt, but part of me began to think Matty Healy actually liked me. Starry-eyed, I leaned in and kissed him, quickly but efficiently.
When I broke the kiss, Matty bit his lip briefly before looking at me with those big brown eyes. God fucking damnit, I liked him.
"I should go," I said. "Is George....?"
"Snoring in between two blondes? Yes." Matty laughed at our friend.
I narrowed my gaze. "Seriously?"
Matty nodded apologetically.
"I have to go to work soon, anyways," Matty said.
Work? Matty had a job other than writing beautiful lyrics and driving girls crazy?
"Where's that?" I asked him.
"A record shop. We specialize in vintage stuff. And I teach lessons, too. Guitar and piano," he explained.
I pictured Matty teaching a small boy to play guitar and my ovaries nearly burst.
"That's really great," I said.
Matty stood, taking my hand in his.
"Yeah, pop by any time you want," he said. "I can take you home on my way to work."
As it turns out, Matty drove a bad ass car. Quite appropriately, it was a black 1975 Ford Consul. The ride back to my apartment was nice. It was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He sang along when "Heroes" by David Bowie came on the radio, and my heart turned to mush.
It was over too soon. I already missed him before he left.
"This is me," I said, and he pulled into the front of the well-kept brick building.
"Alright," he said.
We both looked at each other longingly. Neither one of us wanted me to leave that car. Nevertheless, he had to go to work and I had to do laundry and go grocery shopping before classes started the day after next.
"I really want to kiss you goobye," he said.
I bit my lip. "Matty...."
"It's fine," he sighed. "I understand, I really do. It's just that I hate it," he chuckled.
He was smiling but he wasn't happy.
I had no idea what to say.
"Thank you. For this morning, and for last night. I'll see you around, okay?" I said, getting out of the car.
"Bye," Matty said quietly.
I shut the door and paced into the building, unable to look back at the man who had such a grasp on my heart.