nothing is better than what we felt together at home ;; matty healy

II.

As soon as I heard those words from Sam, I was already walking to those few drawers that contained my things, emptying the contents into a bag. I didn't know where I was going, likely some hotel or another, maybe even George's, if he'd have me, but I knew I had overstayed my welcome and I didn't want to stay intruding for one second longer. I picked my jeans out of the pile on the floor of clothes Sam had flung at us, readjusting my bra and pulling Matty's shirt over my head. My excuse was that it was the closest, but it was a comfort to me too. That helped. I could hear Matty and Sam arguing, their voices loud and every word pounded against my ears. I tried not to pay attention to what they were saying, I tried not to let it get to me, but it was hard when Sam said things like "She's just using you, Matty," and "When she finds another sugar daddy she'll break your heart and move on."

I tried to stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks; this was all hitting too close to home. I really cared about Matty, I did. In fact, I was always worried that I'd come across this way, as some gold-digging has-been model using whichever rockstar was famous at the time to continue living my lavash lifestyle. But that wasn't the case at all. Sam wasn't the only one that had thought that about me, though. In fact, two of the people I now consider my closest friends had thought the same thing when we first met.

---

I was oddly nervous to meet Matty for the first time. I had only talked to George so far. Supposedly I was a bit of an early birthday present for Matty. I don't know if I was honored or a little creeped out by that label, but I followed my gut and went with it anyway. When I got to the door of the venue I found the bouncer was expecting me.

"Kirsten Redding?" he asked, and I nodded, rummaging around in my bag for a form of ID. He put his hand on my arm to stop me, saying "It's okay. George showed me some pictures. I recognize you."

"Where do I go then?" I asked as he opened the door for me, then pointed to a room down the hall in response.

"George's room," was the brief explanation he gave.

I clutched my bag tightly, suddenly questioning my decision making process. What if this was all a rouse? What if it was only a 'surprise' so George could do something else with me? He had seemed nice enough on twitter, and all the research I had done of the band after our first interaction gave him positive marks.

I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Starting to feel out of place, like someone important would come out of nowhere and scold me for breaking the rules, I fidgeted before knocking again, this time a little louder.

The door instantly swung open, and I recognized the man behind it as George. He laughed aloud, reaching out to grab my arms, shaking me slightly. "Kirsten Redding," he said, an edge of disbelief to his voice, "You actually came."

"What can I say, I'm a woman of my word. And with how generously you put me up, why wouldn't I come?" George had offered to pay for my entire trip over, and I hadn't even suggested it. I was more than fine paying for it myself, but he insisted that since it was his birthday gift to Matty, it was important that he paid for everything.

I suppose I should've been more insistent. Maybe I wouldn't have come off as such a red flag to the rest of the band if I had taken his favours so soon.

"Now, I'm not going to make you hide in a stripper cake or anything, just go surprise Matty. Knock on his door and talk to him about Bernie for a bit, alright?" George explained, walking me out the hallway and pointing to another door. The temporary label on the door made it pretty obvious which member it belonged to. "I'll be watching, but I don't want him to see me at first. Just you, alright?"