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“I wet my bed at night. Every. Single. Night. But with the tour jitters and all, I properly piss all over the place. Sometimes it mixes with the spunk from the last girl I rolled between the sheets. Sometimes her juices are a package deal, too. I always ask my assistants to make my bed because, unlike the hotel staff, they actually sign a non-disclosure. Think you can manage that, little one?”
So of course my inner rebel wanted to dump a bunch of fourteen-minute tracks about politics and global warming onto their table.
This is Matty Healy
“Oi! I’m getting a hard-on by proxy. If you two are gonna hate-fuck each other, I’m buying a front-row ticket.”
“Let’s make one thing clear—I could fuck you to a point of numbness without even breaking a sweat if I wanted to. Now, careful, New Girl. If you don’t keep your distance from me, I think I just might.”
It was that curve between her neck and her shoulder that did it. I wanted to bite that spot, produce blood, and write the lyrics of my next song with it. And the fucked-up thing about it was that this was my train of thought when I wasn’t using.
“When I finally lay my hands on you—and make no mistakes, Stardust, I will—you will be crying, all right. My name. Over. And. Over. Again.”
“Save it, Saint Lucas. I don’t believe you. No, you can’t take Indie out. No, you can’t flirt with her, pursue her, or have sex with her. She’s mine.”
“You don’t even like her!” Lucas pushed me, and I pushed back.
Matty: When you push i push back
“But don’t worry, I’ll let you know how she tastes. After all, we’re mates, aren’t we?”
“Let’s get one thing straight—this girl was not hired as a parking space for your dick. She is my assistant. She takes care of me, caters to me, answers me, and only me. This means if I ever catch you in her room again—and I’m planning to keep a closer look now, Waitrose—I will throw you off the tour without even batting an eyelash. Don’t forget you’re just a fucking
She was warm and silky. Delicious, really. I wanted to take her like a drug. All at once, in one gulp. I wanted to overdose on her like cocaine, and heroin, and crack, knowing the destruction I was willingly inhaling into my body. Because Indie, like drugs, was a temporary fix.
My tragedy is like an ugly scar that’s hidden from the world. Only I can see it.”
“If you want me to believe you about not wanting me to fuck you raw, you should probably stop looking at me like that. Like you’re already mine,”
You look at me with dynamite in your eyes, waiting for me to light up the match and finally set you on fire.”
This was his chance to make a move. He’d said he was going to have me, and tonight, I wanted to be taken. After all, if you make one horrifyingly bad choice in your life, better do it on a day that represents your parents’ deathaversary, right?
“The girl I’m going to be inside of while I imagine fucking you tonight.” The taunt in his voice had a lilt.
“When I look at you, I see something broken that isn’t worth fixing. And you look at me like I’m a cheap thing to replace the expensive one that’s been stolen from you. See, we’re all vases. And you’re the one scattered on the floor, shattered beyond repair. So I’ll let someone else pick you up. It’s really that simple. Have fun with your temporary glue.”
“I’d never hurt you. I will leave you kindly. And you will leave me happily. That, I can promise.”
“How can you promise me that? How can you promise me I wouldn’t fall in love?”
“I’m sort of unlovable once you get...
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“My appeal is in my mystery...
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“I bet if I slide my fingers up that fancy dress of yours and push your knickers aside, I’m going to find you so soaked and ready for me, it would take me an hour to lick you dry.”
Life is full of secrets, and narrow-minded people, and sugar-coated, empty conversations that hold no weight. What’s real is what’s inside us. What’s important is what we feel.
“Never intended to, either. I kissed her, right. But only to piss you off, and honestly, I don’t remember what she tasted like, just your reaction to it, which made my cock really fucking happy. The only person I want to fuck right now is you. The second I heard you across the hall banging your head against the door, I threw her in Alfie’s room and went into the bathroom for a quick wank.
I meant what I said, Stardust. I want to screw the words out of you. Just you. Until the end of this tour, it’s only you and me.”
“If I don’t fuck you soon, I will die, and it will be on your conscience.”
He pushed the door the rest of the way open, silently walked in, cupped the side of my face, his thumbs on my cheeks, and kissed me.
“Ruining you for any other man on this planet. I’m going to fuck you, Indie. So hard you’ll think about me years from now, when you lie under your boring, missionary-loving husband. I will own every orgasm, every shiver, every wave of pleasure inside you. From here on out, it will be me. Just me. And for that, I truly am sorry.”
“Give me his address when we get back to L.A. Promise, I just wanna talk.” He cocked one eyebrow up.
He belonged in some dingy underground pub in the bowels of London, screaming to the microphone about anti-fascism and anarchy.
Matty Healy coded
gazing at the ceiling like a fucking John Green character and talking to her about life.
IM SCREAMING
“But you’ll be dirty for me,” I added. To that, she didn’t reply.
“Say my fucking name when you come,”
“She’s suffering from massive diarrhea. This may or may not have to do with that beef fried rice we had before takeoff.” “I knew it! My stomach’s been feeling funny, too.”
In my defense, Ozzy Osborne snorted ants and Keith Richards snorted his dad, so, in comparison, I wasn’t being that crazy.
I shut him up with a kiss. Alex thought about dying, and I thought about how I’d do anything to keep him alive, even if it killed me. The notion only intensified the magnitude of the kiss when our mouths closed on one another.
No one had ever told me sucking someone off could make you feel powerful, rather than degraded. I felt like I owned Alex in that moment, and the feeling was…priceless.
“Pity I can’t keep you,” he said around his cancer stick. “Who said I want to be kept?”
“Mask or not, Will and Fallon owe Alex an explanation, don’t you think? Their engagement came as a surprise to everyone.”
Weeks? They’d been engaged for weeks and no one had told me? Then it dawned on me like hail. Trickling down at first, then all at once, pouring down on my fucking parade. No Internet.
Blake had created Cockgate. My jaw locked so hard my teeth meshed into dust. He’d do whatever he needed to divert the scandal from “British rock star loses his shit and goes on a three-week bender consuming every single gram of cocaine in Europe” to “British rock star fucks a random starlet and leaves her a souvenir.”
The more I had money, and power, and fame, the less I had freedom, and happiness, and the ability to be me. And the person I’d become was imperfect.
She was the most special, important gift I’d ever received, and the only possession I actually cared about. And she was gone.
She was, perhaps, the only real thing I had in my life, and that was utterly pathetic, seeing as she was my employee, and only on tour because I paid her to save me.
The list wasn’t short, but it was telling. There was one thing omitted from it—two, actually—and those were the things I should have considered the most. Will and Fallon. They made me feel nothing. And that, somehow, made me feel everything.
You’re in love with someone else.” “No,”
I’m not upset about Fallon. Granted, I’m not happy about it either, but today wasn’t about her. It was about my fucked-up life and my fucked-up mates and the fucked-up way I mixed business and pleasure like a rookie. I no longer know who’s there for the money and who’s there because they care. And it gets worse—if I could know, I’d still choose not to. Because it’d hurt like a bitch. The stupid, overrated truth.”
For once, I understood what he’d meant about being above gravity.
As soon as it started, our lips crashed together, and we wrestled each other out of our clothes.
