Don't You Mind? ~Matty Healy

Chapter 4

"I put some of my clothes for you to sleep in on the bed. You can sleep there for tonight," Matty smiled as he took a seat beside me on his couch.

"Thank you," I told him, "but you really don't have to give up your bed. I can sleep here."

"No, seriously, Vi, it's totally fine. Stop being so polite," he insisted causing me to giggle at the nickname.

"Okay then, loser. I chose a movie like you demanded," I chuckled.

"You know, maybe a little more manners would be okay after all," he joked. "What movie did you choose?"

"American Beauty. It's my favorite," I told him as I handed him the DVD box.

He picked it up and studied it. "No way," he said in disbelief.

"Don't you like it?"

"No, I love it actually. It's my favorite too," he smiled and I smiled back warmly. He put the DVD in the player and got up to turn out the lights. He returned with a bottle of red wine and the familiar wooden box. He grabbed another joint and lit it like he would a cigarette. He offered some to me, but I was still a bit far from sober, so I declined, but I did drink wine. It was my guilty pleasure. As much as I wanted to seem like shots and hard liquor were my thing, I loved wine and fruity mixed drinks.

We didn't speak much during the movie until the bottle was half empty and we started feeling chatty. It was mostly typical questions to get to know each other, but I didn't mind. His voice was mesmerizing and I just kept asking redundant questions to keep it flowing. He took it in stride and elaborated on even the smallest questions.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked.

"Blue-gray. Like the color of the sky before a storm," I told him.

"That's so pretentious," he laughed, "Why can't you be simple and say blue so I don't have to read into your complexity?"

"I am simple," I argued.

"Oh, please. You surprise me with every answer! Your favorite film is American Beauty because of all these deep theories you keep telling me, but you also think The Breakfast Club 'tries too hard to be deep'. You're one big, beautiful contradiction. And I cant seem to wrap my mind around it," he gushed.

"I'll give you that one, but I really don't find myself to be complicated whatsoever. I'm quite blunt about my opinions and I don't like playing games."

He put out the joint and took a big gulp of the wine before leaving back and saying, "Violet, what's your opinion on making out with me?"

I almost choked on the air. That was unexpected. My mind quickly scanned over the situation. I was drunk. He was drunk and high. There was a slight chance we wouldn't remember in the morning. He looked really cute sitting there with his wide eyes staring into mine waiting for a response. Fuck it.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind-" I started, causing the corners of his mouth to curve upward and his eyes crinkled. He leaned forward and I did too. Next thing I knew, his lips were touching mine and his hands were holding my face and I was shifting closer to him and he smelled so good and god, it felt better than anything I had ever experienced. My hands became tangled in his mess of curls and he was planting sloppy kisses down my neck, which was my weakness. We were right against each other but it didn't feel close enough.

He made his way back up my neck and stopped at my ear to whisper, "I'm going to share the bed with you tonight, don't you mind?"

"Okay," I breathed impatiently waiting for him to reconnect our lips. He gave me a short peck on the lips and abruptly stood up from the couch. He leaned over to turn off the computer (because he didn't own a television and was proud of it) and grabbed my hand. He silently pulled me to the bedroom and I sat on the bed while he turned on a lamp that dimly lit the room. It was just enough to illuminate the several posters that covered the walls along with pictures of him with various people.

He joined me on the bed and started kissing me again. His hands gently reached the hem of my shirt and he smoothly began lifting it up my skin. Once he reached my arms, I helped him pull it off. Now it was his turn to lose an article of clothing. I tugged at his shirt and he quickly slid it over  his head and tossed it hallway across the room. Before he had the chance to kiss me again, I scanned over his torso and arms at the tattoos that stood out on his light skin. As spaced out as they were, they truly fit him. I made a mental note to ask him about them in the morning.

The rest of the night consisted of what I can only describe as skin, kissing, breathing, and at last, cigarettes and deep conversations.

A/N: sorry this was short. I'm trying to keep my updates on a quick pace.

also what's your favorite The 1975 song? and should I involve the rest of the band in this?