show me yours | matty healy

chapter thirteen

November 1st 2013

Tommie has always felt like out of all the places in America, New York would be scariest. It's big and that's where all the big American crime drama shows she watches are set, with things like the mafia or random serial killers.

But no, LA, is by far, the scariest place she has visited.

With people screaming as you pass by, strangers trying to sell you CDs and monks handing out bracelets. The dress up characters (something she used to be afraid of as a child), getting handsy as you walk through the touristy parts creeped her out, and if one more person tried to hand her a flower she was going to scream.

Not even Times Square was this bad.

Her anxiety was getting the better of her and the deeper they got into the walk of fame the more she clung onto Matty's arm.

He'd sensed her anxiety a while back and had kept closer as the other three oblivious men (of course men, what anxieties do they need to have while walking down a street in the night) walked on ahead.

"Do you want to turn back?"

She shakes her head, "I'd rather not go back through all of them."

He grins as they get closer to the loud music of this pub a friend had recommended, "Almost there anyway, we'll get a taxi back from right outside when we're done, yeah?"

She nods quickly, "Okay."

His hand lifts to play with some strands of her hair, she'd had a shower before they left and hadn't had time to dry it, so it was a curly wavy mess.

"I like your hair like this."

"Really?"

He nods, pulling on it and watching the curl bounce back into place, "It's messy but put together at the same time, like you. It suits you."

Tommie stuck by him all night, they both shared a drink, they only did one shot, a couple ciders, and had two G&T's.

About an hour after Tommie had finished sipping on her orange gin and tonic she and Matty had ordered an uber from right outside and gone back to the hotel, leaving the other three in the bar, all of them too far gone with John running around after them.

In the lift Tommie sighs, leaning back against the wall as she kicks off the heels that George's date for the night had let her borrow.

She leans down to rub at her left foot while struggling to undo the strap of the right one at the same time.

Matty gives a lopsided smile and kneels down to help her, he taps his knee and she holds her weight on the railing so her aching foot doesn't take all the weight.

It's a little hard in her tipsy head but she manages to hold herself upright.

He carefully undoes the strap, slides off the heel, and then delicately places her foot back down, his hand following his movements up her bare leg slowly as he stands.

Her shoes now in his free hand until she stands upright and shoves it into the pocket of his skinny jeans.

"God," She groans and grimaces, "Did you see that one couple?"

He nods, "The ones that were practically having sex on the table?"

She nods trying to rid the image of the girl lying flat on her back with the guy on top of her, "What ever happened to hello?" She wonders.

"Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk — real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious."