Are We Just Friends? / / Matty Healy / /

"I'm offering you sex and you're turning me down because you feel sorry for me?" I raised my voice at him. "You had no problem sleeping with me before you found out that Aaron and--"

I was cut off by a hand slamming down on the bar next to me. Startled, both Sam and I turned to look at the guy that was standing there. He was wearing tight leather pants and a white t-shirt, his curly hair covering most of his face.

"Excuse me," he spoke, a British accent lacing his words, "While I'm sure you're talking about important things, I've been trying to get your attention for a while. I need another round of shots for me and my mates." His words were slightly slurred, and he turned to point to a group of guys that were sat around one of the tables in the bar.

"Yeah, sure thing. What are you drinking?" Sam said pulling out four shot glasses.

"Whatever tequila you've got. And while you're at it, add another shot for the lady," he said gesturing to me. "And love," he said looking at me now, "if you're looking for sex, I know someone who would be interested."

I scoffed while looking him up and down. "If you're talking about yourself, I'm not interested."

~

Daniella had withdrawn from her friends to deal with a traumatic event in the only way she knew how: sex, drugs, and alcohol. Throw in a famous band whose members are just as fucked up as she is, and join Daniella in her dark, twisted journey to self-acceptance and love.

[This story will contain themes that are not suitable for everyone. Also you don't need to be a fan of The 1975 to enjoy this book.]