Eyes Bright, Uptight {EDITING}

// he ate my heart and then he ate my brain//

{Play "6 Inch" by Beyonce, "For Free" by Drake, "Monster" by Lady Gaga}

{Please excuse the shortness of this chapter, but I really felt I had to separate it from the next scenes! Love you all, happy fangirling!}

Claire's POV.

Embarrasingly unapologetically, I sang along to the tunes that played on my phone as I spun around in my bedroom, readying myself for George and Matty's party tonight. It was a Wednesday, but I didn't mind since my Tuesday and Thursday classes were in the early afternoon.

The week had been super busy, and I was dying to blow off steam. Classes were overbearing, especially with Matty on the mind. I'd spared some time to have brunch with George's family, and it filled my heart to see them. His Dad was a hard-ass, but always had a soft spot for me. And, of course, I woshipped his mother. They had shaped the boy I once knew into the man he was today.

My phone buzzed from a text as the song played and I put another wave in my hair with my straightener.

Matty: Need a ride?

Claire: Nope, Tinnie's picking me up.

Matty: Fuck. Buckle up.

I giggled at him, smiling at the picture I had snapped of him at mine and Tinsley's birthday party nearly a week ago. Somehow, Matty Healy was still hot in a fake mustache.

Tinsley texted me that she'd be here in ten minutes, which meant half an hour. Perfecting the last few beachy waves in my hair and double-checking to make sure my eyeliner matched on both eyes, I spritzed myself with some perfume before getting dressed.

Doing hair and makeup with clothes on was for the brave; I always ended up getting strands of hair all over my outfit or bronzer on my top. I slid into a mini, black body-con dress with fitted three-quarter length sleeves. My favorite birthday gift (aside form Matty's gift that kept on giving and George's adorable charm bracelet) were the shoes Chelsea G had given me. They were platform pumps with silver studs adorning the heel.

I smiled in approval of my wardrobe choices texted Chelsea G.

Claire: Tinsley's picking me up, do you need a ride?

Chelsea G: rding adm rn

Claire: Huh? You mean you're riding with Adam right now?

Chelsea G: no...

I started to reply and asked what she meant again before I realized exactly what she was saying.

She was so gross. Chelsea G was one of those people who made you cringe and smile at the same time. I loved her for how ballsy she was. She was a direct opposite of me in every way: she was tall and slender and blonde, I was short and curvy and brunette. She was loud and outgoing, I stuttered over my words even with my closest of friends.

Sometimes I wished I was more like her, less trapped in my own thoughts.

=

The features of the room, of the people, were illuminated and then lost immediately by strobe lights that raved in blues, purples, teals, and whites. I couldn't even begin to estimate how many people there at this party than even at their last one. Bodies crammed against one another, music blaring from the speakers, smoke encircling the atmosphere of the room in a cloud so thick my eyes watered almost instantly.

I was feeling a little light-headed already. Maybe I had a contact high from Ross smoking a blunt in Tinsley's backseat on the way here.

"Our George is the DJ tonight, apparently," Ross yelled, noting the the hip hop that blared through the speakers. His arm was draped over Tinsley and she looked content nursing an amaretto sour.