Pretty Kind of Dirty Face {Matty Healy}

01 // Heart Out

{I remember that I liked you, no matter what I found}

Small towns really don't allow for privacy. At all. Growing up in such a town, I found myself growing accustomed to having conversations with complete strangers about something that happened to a close friend of mine - and we didn't even stop to question it. It's just what happens in small towns. Everyone knew everyone, even if they actually didn't.

Growing up, I always swore I was going to get out. I knew it. I had to escape. Unlike other people, I wanted to become anonymous, to live somewhere where no one knew my name, to not be cared about for once. That's why it came as a surprise to me when I finally turned twenty but was still living at home. For someone who only wanted to escape, I sure did a pretty shitty job getting out of the house.

This dawned on me one night as I sat alone in my room, reading the same book I'd already read a million times over. I had been in this exact same position entirely too often in the past three years. I was twenty years old for Pete's sake! And I was sitting in the same room from when I was seventeen, reading the same book, wearing some of the same clothes even. I never realized how much I hated it until it hit me how much I desperately craved a change of scenery.

As if an answer to a prayer, my phone rang.

"Hello?" I said, my voice hoarse from sitting in bed reading for hours on end.

"Eloise, where are you? I'm having a party, remember?"

Of course. Cecily always had parties, I just refused to come to most of them. I brushed them off when she invited me, not bothering to even attempt to remember. She just didn't usually call me to get me to come. Cecily, unlike me, was perfectly content to stay planted in her small town, as long as she had people to drink with. Maybe that was why we had always been such good friends - we were so similar on the outside, but deep down we were just about polar opposites.

"I'm sitting at home. Why?"

She sighed dramatically on the other end. "I told you that you had to come! The guys are home and we're welcoming them back! I even bought cheap wine!"

"As opposed to cheap beer?" I said, slightly sick of her shenanigans. This wasn't the first time she'd convinced me to come to one of her "great" parties, and I wasn't ready to clean puke off her living room carpet once again.

"Please," Cecily whined, "just come tonight and I won't make you come over any other time in the history of the world, okay?"

I rolled my eyes, but I had already set to work picking out my outfit for her party. With the phone balanced between my ear and shoulder, I pulled off my old sweatpants and instead wore sleek black skinny jeans. "Fine," I said, pulling out a lightweight red sweater and skimpy black pumps I knew I was sure to shed as soon as I walked in Cecily's door.

I could just about hear her smile coming through the phone. "Oh my god! I can't wait!" she squealed. "I have to go, people are starting to show up. Come over right away!"

I hung up and couldn't quite contain my own smile in spite of myself. It only took me minutes to get to my friend's house just down the road, and when I arrived I was almost positive that every light in her house was turned on. The usually dark street was illuminated, as if broadcasting to the entire neighborhood that yes, Cecily Jones was indeed having a party.

The second I let myself in, I was practically assaulted by the indie music she blasted just soft enough that the neighbors wouldn't complain but just loud enough I could barely hear myself think.

"Ellie!" Cecily screamed from behind me as I shed my jacket on the bench just inside the door. "I'm so happy you're here!"

Before I had a chance to protest, her hands were on my shoulders, steering me into the living room. She plopped me on the mostly empty couch and shoved a plastic cup into my hand. "You," she growled playfully, pointing a finger at me. "Stay here. Make friends. Have. Fun."