Eyes Bright, Uptight {EDITING}

// dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, to the radio//

{ I am so sorry for this. I love you all. Whew. This chapter is a lot to handle, I know, but I am pretty satisfied with how it came out.}

{Play "Haunt//Bed" by your favorite band the 1975, "Pull My Hair" by Bright Eyes, and "Transmission" by Joy Division. My taste in music is lit, y'all}

{Matty's POV}

"Harper, don't," my words slurred as I turned my head from her.

The club was hot, dark, heavy. The smells were too strong. It was all cherry chaptstick and liquor and cloves. The cocaine was making head head spin.

But that part, that part I liked.

Harper took my face in her hands anyways, kissing my jaw, my ear, my collarbones.

She whispered something into my ear, and I don't know what it was, only that it was dirty because afterward she grabbed my cock and stuck her tongue down my throat.

I let her, though.

What else was there to do? Rehearse for songs the band and I had played a hudred times in preparation for our second word tour? Tell one more interviewer how I came up with the name for my band? Shoot the shit with George and pretend it's cool that he's marrying my ex? Act like I'm not going to have to do massive amounts of blow before I see her walk down the aisle, especially considering her belly is starting to swell with mini-George growing in there.

No.

None of that.

Harper was pulling me away from the crowd now, her little pixie feet moving so fast in the Chucks she was wearing. Claire would have shit twice and died before she wore Chucks to a dance club, especially if they were as beaten up as Harper's were. Claire had a strict philisophy that Chucks were to be clean at all times and paried with leggings or skinny jeans only.

She always looked cute in them.

She always looked cute in anything.

George had a fucking tattoo of her lipstick stain on his collarbone now.

My tattoos of her were not visible.

Harper had dragged me into a bathroom. She was kissing me everywhere, touching me everywhere. She didn't even care to lock the door.

I really liked her.

"Red," I said to her. "I need a hit."

Even though I'd already had too much.

Harper perfected four glorious white lines on the counter with symmetrical perfection. Two for me, two for her. I saved a bit from the end of one of my lines for a little surprise for her. Her mouth was at mine again the minute we had inhalted the white lightening, and my fingertip went into her mouth.

She licked the tip of it and looked me dead in the eye.

Harper knew exactly who I was, and what I needed. And I knew the same about her.

I took my dampened fingertip and dipped it in the remaining coke on the counter, then yanked Harper's panties to the side, pressing the substance onto her clit.

She moaned.

She was never scared to look right at me when she did.

"Fuck," she said, biting her lip.

"C'mere, Red," I said, flipping her around and bending her over the counter, entering her immediately.

Harper wasn't Claire.