you look so cool. (matty healy)

forty-four

My eyes flutter open as the sun shoots in through the window, seemingly directly into my eyes. I have a pounding headache, and immediately shut my eyes again hoping I could fall back asleep. I toss and turn trying to will my body back to sleep, but to no avail. I don't even remember making it back to the hotel last night, after we left the bathroom and found Charli and George I recall dancing a bit more and some shots with some randos, but after that I've got nothing.

 I roll over, facing Matty in bed next to me. I smile to myself, he's got himself, head and all, wrapped completely under the blankets so I can't even see him. I burrow myself under the comforter, and wrap my arms around him from behind. My arms reach around to his chest, but something feels off. I don't remember Matty having tits. Confused I sit up and pull the blankets down. In bed next to me is Charli, still in all her clothes from the night before, and a cigarette dud next to her pillow. I can't help but laugh, I literally had no fucking idea what was going on. I had no idea who I was even sleeping with. I rub my eyes, and look around the room. 

Matty and George have both fallen asleep next to each other, sprawled on the floor, also in the clothes from the night before. The two of them are sharing one pillow and a small blanket, Matty has his arm across George's back, and I take a photo to show them later, because I know if I don't get a photo Matty will deny it forever. I eventually take a look at myself, while still in my jeans from yesterday I must've at one point abandoned my top because my tits are completely out. Fucking hell. 

I pull the blinds open a tad more so I can l navigate my way through the messy room and find some tshirt to throw on. I see someone's old band t-shirt on the floor and I throw it on, covering myself. I head to bathroom to find my toothbrush, but I've come to realize we must've crashed in George's hotel room, because none of my shit is here. I'm also definitely wearing George's shirt, but I don't have. great option for now, and I know he won't care. I don't want to wake anyone up, so I quietly grab my phone from the bedside table, I try to check the time, but it's conveniently dead. I stick it in my pocket anyway and sneak out of the room, making my way towards the elevator to find myself some coffee.

In the hotel lobby I luckily find a charging station scattered amongst the breakfast area, and I settle down sitting next to it with a hot coffee in my hand. My head is still pounding, but I feel a bit more alive than I did twenty minutes ago. I'm sure I look a mess with my frizzy hair, smudged eye makeup, and likely rank of cigarettes, but fuck it I don't have an option.

My phone begins to come back on, the apple logo glowing on the screen. Once it powers back on, I wake to what seems like a million notifications from texts, Instagram, and Twitter. I recently have been better about avoiding social media, it just helps me feel better about myself, but I end up giving in today. Before I head down the rabbit hole, I check my texts after noticing about a dozen from Alex, my boss. I open our thread and am shocked by his messages.

Alex: Wtf.

Alex: Luna what the actual hell happened last night.

Alex: Luna, hello!

Alex: Why the fuck are you and Matty trending all over Twitter?

Alex: Luna answer the damn phone.

Alex: Fucking hell, Luna. 

Alex: sent Link to Daily Mail.

Holy shit, I had no idea. Did shit from last night get out onto social media? I click the link the the Daily Mail article Alex forwarded to me, and I almost drop my fucking phone reading the headline. "Rockstar Matty Healy seen drunk at burlesque club with mystery girl of the month all over him" reads the front page of the website. Accompanying this wonderful representation of Matty and I are several photos of myself, Matty, Charli, and George dancing, drinking, smoking, hitting bongs, etc. Fuck my life, I think to myself.