Eyes Bright, Uptight {EDITING}

//the way I was before, I'm not her anymore//

Okay, so this story is getting ultra-complicated, but I'm really, really loving it. Please stick with me! Love yall forevs and evs. Please note this glorious gif of Matty, opening those purty eyes. How hot are his little freckles tho???

{Play "Campus" by Vampie Weekend, and "Heavy Metal Heart" by Sky Ferreira}

ONE MONTH LATER

{Claire's POV}

The library at uni was quiet, the smell of dated paper saturatning my nose, the sounds of papers shuffling and keys tapping a joyful murmur in my ears. I was cradling my Hello Kitty thermos of coffee in one hand, and my math textbook in another, trying to make sense of the letters and symbols with no avail.

It was a week from Halloween, and I was stressed out, as usual. Matty and the boys were in the studio from mid-morning until late at night, making my precious time with him scarce. I longed for the days of pillow-talk, and late breakfasts with him; now they were far and few between.

I was so happy for he and his boys, though. They were living out their wildest dreams, and I was set to see them record tomorrow morning. Being the good girlfriend that I am, I had planned to bring a basket of blueberry muffings and coffee to give them fuel so that they could work their magic.

Nautrally, I had Facebook stated the fuck out of Harper Halifax the minute I realized she was Matty's ex (sort of) and that the two would be spending a lot of time together in the studio. Matty loved me, I know, but the uneasy feelings crept up the back of my spine nonetheless. Harper was going to be in the studio with him, tuning all of their instruments and assisting the producers as Matty played songs he fucking wrote about her years ago.

Harper was really pretty, no surprise there. She had dark auburn hair and was petite and sweet-faced, but you could tell she was stone-cold on the inside. Matty never gave me the full story.

"It's not even worth telling, love," he had assured me over and over.

But I knew it was. Especially when Tinsley mentioned some of the post painful, gorgeous songs Matty had never written were about her.

I sipped my coffee once more, the pumpin spice fueling my soul as I continued trying to make sense of my math book. Matty was one of those rare gems who excelled at both right and left-brained studies, but I was strictly right brained. I was also squirming by my math class with a C.

A fucking C.

I'd begged my professor to bump it to a B, to give me extra credit opportunities, but he hadn't budged. Instead, he'd suggested I hook up with a free tutor at the library. Groan.

"Well, if it isn't Claire the Arsonist," I heard an American voice say behind me.

I looked up from my book to see a vaguely familiar face. One that I had only seen one night, several months ago.

"Hi," I looked up at Nick, the guy who I had fake-flirted with and unintentionally burned with the cherry of my cigarette. "How's your arm?"

Nick smiled. "All better."

Nick sat his leather side-bag down on the table and pulled out some text books, one matching mine. He was really handsome, in a American Jew kind of way. His arms were muscular, his eyes a gorgeous shade of hazel, more green than my slightly more brown.

He took his hipster-preppy looking jacket off and slung it across the chair before eyeing my Hello Kitty mug.

"Cute," he said, opening up the textbook and rummaging through his bag to get a pen.