Chapter 6
Taylor wasn’t sure where she was supposed to look, or not look, when Matty emerged from the ensuite bathroom, wearing a pair of very low slung black skinny jeans, both knees intact, and a towel wrapped around his head. Taylor involuntarily found her gaze being drawn to the tattoo to the right of his belly button. The cobalt blue ink showed up brightly against his pale skin as it snaked its way downward, directing Taylor’s eyes to the thin trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. She flushed, and meant to look back up at his face, eye contact was important, but she got caught on the tattoo in the center of his chest. Her blush deepened. She settled for looking at the small smudge of blood on his neck, just below his jawline, he must have nicked himself shaving, she thought almost hysterically. She was so fucking bisexual.
“Can I help you?” she asked, wincing at how bitchy she sounded, setting aside the book she had been pretending to read while waiting for Matty to take his management mandated shower.
“Do you have a hair dryer I could borrow?” he asked “preferably one with a diffuser?”
Taylor blinked. “What?”
“A, em, hair dryer?” Matty asked again, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Taylor jerked her eyes back to his face, having realized they had started to drift lower, taking in the expanse of smooth pale skin, stretched thin over delicate bone as if it was presented on a silver platter before her.
He was pretty, she thought absentmindedly, made up of sharp boney angles and porcelain skin interrupted by the dark lines of his tattoos. She could see the jut of his hip bone pressed against the waistband of his jeans, she was jealous of the definition. She looked back up, meeting his dark eyes, the eyeliner remains having been washed off, while trying not to look at his deeply defined clavicle. If she drank as much wine as he did, there was no way she would still look like that. He must have put contacts in, she thought after a moment, Matty was no longer wearing his glasses. He should have left the glasses on, she thought, his eyes were still red and irritated.
“Ah, yeah, I have one,” she said standing up from where she had been sprawled out on the end of her bed. Olivia had been sitting with her, but had jumped off the side and scampered down the hallway when Matty had opened the bathroom door. She was still skeptical of him, Meredith as always, was nowhere to be seen. “I’m impressed you know what a diffuser is though.”
Matty snorted. “Have you seen my hair?” he asked, gesturing to the towel containing his locks, “I’m a fucking poodle, of course I know what a diffuser is.”
Taylor nodded in understanding, though her own curls had lost their definition as she got older, she had spent many a day during her childhood, sobbing over the out of control blonde friz growing out of the top of her head. She opened one of the bottom drawers of her bathroom vanity counter and handed the hair dryer to Matty.
“Thanks love,” he said, turning away from Taylor to plug it into the wall, she could see every bump in his spine as he moved gracelessly, a purplish bruise forming along his arm where he must have caught himself on something earlier.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” said Taylor, as Matty undid the towel and hung it on the extra hook by the door. “And, ah, we have to leave soon so hurry up.” He gave her a thumbs up and Taylor shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts as she made her way out of the bedroom.
Taylor got a bottle of sparkling water out of the refrigerator and sat down on one of her barstools and tried not to think too hard about Matty being in her space. He was so much more considerate of it than Karlie had ever been. Karlie had been notorious for leaving wet towels laying tossed on the end of the bed, on a decorative chair or on the floor. Taylor couldn’t even count the number of times she had gotten home and gone to get into bed, only to find the blankets damp from the towel that Karlie had left on the sheets earlier that day. Or the number of times she had tripped over one thrown to the floor in the middle of the night. It was little things, something that annoyed her but in the grand scheme of their relationship she had let go. Looking back, seeing Matty Healy, a man with some of the most chaotic energy she had ever encountered, respecting her, and respecting her space was jarring. He took his shoes off without asking, he hung his towel up the hook, it was the bare minimum, but it was new to her. Even last night, after how many years, Taylor had to remind Karlie to take her shoes off.
He didn’t want anything from her, Taylor realized in shock. Matty was in a position where he could have asked for anything, could have demanded anything from her and her team and they would have moved hell and high water to give it to him. Despite the NDAs he had signed, he could still ruin her so easily, and there was nothing in his actions, in his demeanor that suggested that was his intention. Karlie had loved being seen with her, had loved the attention their friendship, turned secret relationship had brought her. Had loved that designers now knew her name, that she was getting higher profile jobs, and brand ambassador positions because she was Taylor Swift’s best friend. She loved the presents and the trips that Taylor took her on. She loved that the paparazzi followed them whenever they got lunch or went to a basketball game. Taylor knew she shouldn’t be comparing them, Karlie and Matty were different people. She wasn’t even dating Matty, and despite the extremely thoughtful cat socks, Taylor wasn’t even sure if they were friends.
“Don’t hurt yourself darling,” said Matty, startling Taylor and pulling her away from her thoughts. She looked up sharply, spilling her sparkling water on the counter, the cap rolling onto the floor. His curls were now dry, they looked soft and fluffy where they framed his face, perfectly defined corkscrew curls. He hadn’t bothered with the scrunchie this time, letting them hang down and free.
“Shit,” she said, jumping up to grab a paper towel from the roll by the sink. “Wait, what?”
“Sorry,” said Matty, rubbed at the back of his neck, “you just looked like you were thinking really hard about something.”
“Oh,” said Taylor, mopping up the spill before tossing the now sopping paper towels into the trash can under the sink. He was wearing a black sweater now, all of his tattoos now hidden from view. Taylor blinked, taking in the knit design. “Is that a Star Wars Christmas sweater?”
Matty grinned. “Yes!” He said enthusiastically, “I got it at Target, which I think might be my favorite store in America, it has everything.”
Taylor smiled. “They’re one of my brand partners,” she said and Matty’s eyes widened comically.
“That is absolutely brilliant,” he said, “good choice in partner.”
Taylor snorted. Karlie had never been impressed by her Target partnership, she was more interested in her making deals with brands like Stella McCartney.
“Thanks,” she said, “my team thinks so too.”
Matty bit his lip, looking like he wanted to ask something, he opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, hesitating before opening it again. “I know you’re like the most famous woman on the planet,” he started and Taylor winced, “but we have to go to Target sometime.”
Taylor laughed. “I’ll mention it to Tree,” she said. “We could go on a Target date.” It would be the kind of wholesome publicity that her label favored, with the added bonus of making one of her brand partners happy.
“That would be fantastic,” Matty said, nodding, he didn’t care about brand partnerships, he just wanted to go to Target.
“Oh,” said Taylor, spying the tupperware sitting on the counter. “I almost forgot,” she said. “I ah, made you cookies,” she said, opening the tupperware and nudging the container towards him.
Matty frowned. “You made me cookies?” He asked.
Taylor crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, you said you liked pumpkin spice and I thought it would be nice, since you were coming to visit and all that.”
“You made me pumpkin spice cookies, because I came to visit, for your birthday?” Matty asked skeptically and Taylor shrugged.
“You don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to,” she said, trying and failing to sound indifferent. It did sound a little ridiculous when he put it like that. It was her birthday, so she made him cookies.
“No, I’ll eat them,” said Matty, snagging one of the cookies out of the container, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Taylor said. Her phone started vibrating from her back pocket, breaking the weird tension that had settled over the kitchen. She had changed into black skinny jeans and a charcoal sweater while Matty was in the shower, and a pair of knee high black boots had been picked out and were sitting by the door.
“Greg wants to know if we’re ready to go,” Taylor said, and Matty nodded, having shoved one of the cookies into his mouth.
“Fuck, that was good,” he said after he swallowed, moving comfortably behind Taylor to grab one paper towel of his own, and piling it with three more of the cookies. He put the lid back on the tupperware.
Taylor snorted, and Matty shrugged.
“You people don’t feed me,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin before making his way to the bedroom to get his own shoes, a pair of black Doc Marten boots, out of his suitcase, along with a discrete black leather bag. His coat was still hanging by the door where he had left it upon entry. Taylor flushed, she hadn’t even thought about lunch.
“Sorry,” she said, “with all the excitement I forgot.”
“I’m just joking, love,” said Matty, putting the paper towel wrapped cookies into his jacket pocket, and looping the bag across his chest under the jacket.
Taylor didn’t like that he was joking about it, that he was implying that she was a bad host, or that he was passing judgment about her own dietary habits.
“There will be food at the show,” she said, knowing that even if she hardly ever touched it, Tree always made sure there was a well catered spread. “And I’m having a chicken tender bar at my party tonight.”
“I wasn’t worried,” said Matty before pausing. “Though, what the fuck is a chicken tender bar?”
Taylor grinned. “Chicken tenders with different breading and different dipping sauce options,” she said. She was planning on splurging, and was already dreaming about either the lemon pepper or the parmesan.
“Sounds... interesting,” Matty said skeptically.
Taylor just shook her head, “it’s going to be great, you’ll see,” she said.
“I’m holding you to that,” Matty said, giving her another grin, that Taylor was powerless but to meet. Her phone buzzed again.
“Greg is now waiting in the lobby,” Taylor said, reading the incoming text. “And Tree wants us to hold hands on the way to the car.”
“Sounds good,” said Matty, lacing their fingers together as they stepped onto the elevator. Taylor felt him stiffen as they made their descent as if he was remembering the sea of people he had fought through to make it up to the apartment in the first place.
“Try not to look like you’re on your way to your execution,” Taylor murmured, giving Matty’s hand a squeeze as the doors opened. His palm had started to sweat.
“I just can’t believe you have to go through this every time you leave,” he said quietly as they followed Greg through the front doors and into the waiting SUV, a police escort already in position, the rest of her team maintaining a perimeter as fans screamed and cameras flashed. Taylor smiled and waved with her free hand, once again dragging Matty behind her as he tried and failed to look anything less than miserable.
“You get used to it,” Taylor said, once they were security in the car. Greg in the passenger seat as Tom drove. Taylor wondered if Matty could tell she was lying.
“I don’t know how,” said Matty, his voice shaking.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and lifted his hips up pulling a cigarette out of the carton in his back pocket and fidgeting with it. “Don’t worry, I know I can’t smoke in here,” he said before Taylor had a chance to remind him. “Greg made that quite clear on the ride from the airport.”
“You should switch to vaping,” said Greg from the front seat and Taylor couldn’t help but laugh at the scandalized look on Matty’s face.
“I will not be vaping,” said Matty indignantly. “But I am going to request you find me a corner where I can light this fag when we get to Madison Square Garden.”
Greg opened his mouth to argue but Taylor beat him to it. “I think that can be arranged,” she said.
Matty shot Greg a smug grin, before allowing the car to fall into a comfortable silence.
Taylor sat scrolling through Tumblr on her phone, liking a few of the happy birthday posts her fans had tagged her in before looking over at Matty who had his forehead pressed against the window of the car, looking even more miserable than when they made the dash from her apartment to the SUV.
“Are you okay?” Taylor asked, reaching out to touch his arm, he turned and nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice surprisingly rough. “I just get carsick.”
“Are you serious?” Taylor asked and Matty nodded miserably. “We’ve been in the car for like ten minutes.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, “it’s worse when I’m in the back seat, and even worse in the US because you lot drive on the wrong side of the road.”
“Gosh,” said Taylor trying to lighten the mood. “You and Meredith are like the same person. She wants to be fed regularly and also gets car sick.”
“I don’t know what's worse,” said Matty, “The fact that you compared me to your cat, or the fact that you just called her a person.”
“She’s my daughter, and according to Tumblr,” said Taylor, holding up her phone for Matty to see, “your step daughter so you should show her some respect.”
“I’ll look when we’re no longer moving.” said Matty, “I really don’t want to get sick in the car.” His tone implied that was something that had happened before.
“We’re almost there,” Taylor said, looking out the window as the city rolled past her. She was thankful for the police escort that meant they weren’t sitting in bumper to bumper stop and go New York City traffic. She didn’t even want to think about how Matty would have handled that.
“Thank god,” said Matty, turning away from the window as they pulled down into the depths of the arena. He opened the door and swung his legs out of the car, stumbling slightly on the surprisingly uneven ground of the parking garage
“You have five minutes,” said Greg, nodding towards the loading dock, which was littered with cigarette butts.
“Thanks mate,” said Matty, moving cautiously to go stand by the wall. He pulled out a lighter, this one white. Taylor found herself wondering what had happened to the purple one he had earlier.
“I’ll wait,” said Taylor, when Tom tried to steer her into the building. Tom sighed and looked to Greg for guidance but the man just shrugged, knowing that it was pointless to argue with Taylor as she leaned against the wall next to Matty, watching as he smoked in silence. Taylor was surprised that they weren’t disturbed.
“Feel better?” she asked as he dropped the cigarette butt and crushed it under the heel of his boot.
“Much,” he said.
She held out her hand. “Ready to officially launch our relationship?” she asked, as Matty laced their fingers together.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, Greg leading them into the building and Tom moving behind them.
“Oh good, you’re here,” said Tree, turning the hallway corner just as Matty and Taylor did. “Your green room is right this way, Matty, it’s nice to see you again, we’re so happy you were able to make the trip for Taylor’s birthday.”
“Thanks,” said Matty awkwardly, doing a little skip hop to keep up as Taylor and Tree increased their pace down the hallway. Tree said they were happy he made it, as if he had been given a choice. They passed a young woman wearing a headset, most likely venue staff who turned and did a double take, her eyes wide as they passed one another. Taylor gave her a smile and she blushed, quickly looking away.
Tree wrinkled her nose. “Why do you stink?” she asked, looking at the two of them.
Taylor flushed. “Cigarette break,” she admitted, knowing the smell of smoke was clinging to her as well from how close she had been standing to Matty. Tree rolled her eyes, but thankfully stayed quiet, knowing that wasn’t a battle she was going to win.
“Anyway, you can leave your stuff in here,” she said, “They’re ready for you to sound check, then Jemma will be here to trim your bangs. Matty, while Taylor’s sound checking you can stay here with me.”
“Yes ma’am,” said Matty, taking his coat off and leaving it draped over the back of a chair. Taylor did the same before giving a little wave and allowing Greg and Tom to lead her down the hallway. She would change into her matching plaid pants and cropped top set after Jemma did her hair and she touched up her makeup.
“Have a seat,” said Tree, gesturing to the couch, and Matty sat, already feeling out of his depth. He needed another cigarette, or twelve. He wondered if anyone would notice if he snuck off to smoke a joint in the bathroom. This was Madison Square Garden, he couldn’t be the first person to test out the ventilation in such a manner. He hadn’t looked at the rest of the lineup but he doubted he would even be the only one doing so tonight.
“This is for you by the way,” said Tree, handing him a lanyard with a VIP Backstage pass attached to it. He was surprised there was a picture of his face on it. He was listed as a guest of “Swift.” “Make sure you have it on at all times during the show.”
“Thanks,” he said, slipping it over his head.
Tree turned away from him to shut the door to the green room and turned on a white noise speaker. Matty raised an eyebrow and wondered if he was about to get murdered.
“How are you doing?” Tree asked, sitting down on the chair across from him.
“Fine,” said Matty, not sure how else he was supposed to answer. He was exhausted, and so far outside of his comfort zone he wasn’t even sure where to begin finding his way back. He missed George. He wanted George, George would know what to say, George, despite preferring to leave the press to Matty, could talk to anyone about anything. He left every party, every networking event with a new group of best friends while Matty hung out on the fringes drinking too much wine and chain smoking so he didn’t have to talk to anyone. He couldn’t even text George, when he had pulled up his flight earlier he was still over the Atlantic Ocean, only about halfway through the eight hour flight from Chicago to London, Matty’s own flight to New York City having left hours before the international one.
“How was your flight?” she asked, and Matty shrugged.
“It was fine,” he said again, Tree reminded him of a snake, sizing him up, ready to strike at a moment's notice the second he showed weakness. He kept forgetting that she was supposed to be on his side.
She nodded, and Matty felt like she was looking straight through him. “Well, we really appreciate what you’re doing,” she said at last. “I know this wasn’t your choice, but it means a lot to Taylor that you’re in her corner,” she said carefully. “She has a lot of friends, but not a lot of friends, if you know what I mean.”
“I think so,” said Matty, he was pretty sure he was being threatened but he wasn’t sure how.
“Excellent,” said Tree, clapping her hands together. “I’m going to go check on the soundcheck, give you some time to regroup.” She looked pointedly at Matty’s hands, which he quickly shoved into his pockets when he realized they were shaking.
“I’m going to go for a walk,” Matty said when Taylor returned, sans Tree, Jemma, her hair stylist appearing a few moments later.
“Sounds good,” said Taylor, giving him a thumbs up. Her cheeks were flushed, with happiness and Matty could hear the thunder of the arena doors opening above them.
“Make sure you’re back before the show starts,” said Taylor, “that way we can watch together.” Tree was having them skip the red carpet. They would make their red carpet debut at a more prestigious event.
“Sounds good,” said Matty, slipping out of the room, needing to move. He wandered blindly down the halls, taking turns at random, wondering what it would feel like to play here himself one day.
“If it isn’t Matthew Timothy Healy,” said a heavy Essex accent and Matty spun around, finding himself face to face with Charli.
“Miss. XCX,” he said, giving her a lazy smile.
“I hear you're shacking up with America’s Sweetheart these days,” she said, giving him a raised eyebrow.
Matty gave her a bashful smile. “It’s new,” he said, “but we’re seeing where it goes.”
Charli snorted, then glanced down the hallway, no one was paying them any mind. “It’s just funny, last I heard you had a boyfriend.”
Matty’s blood ran cold. “Excuse me?” he said. He knew that Charli and George were friends, and had hit it off in the studio, but he hadn’t realized they were friends like that; he hadn't realized anyone outside of their immediate inner circle knew anything about that.
“You heard me,” said Charli, crossing her arms over her chest. She was wearing a black sparkly crop top and a black American Apparel tennis skirt. The sparkles were fun but the outfit overall didn’t scream “Christmas” and “Jingle Ball” the way Taylor’s plaid number did.
He was saved from answering, by the arrival of the one and only Selena Gomez. “Matty!” she said, enthusiastically. “Taylor and I were looking for you.”
Matty swallowed back a hysterical laugh. When and how had this become his life.
“Were you now?” he asked, he hadn’t met Selena yet, though Taylor spoke highly of her, and he’s not sure how the girl knew he needed saving but he was incredibly thankful.
“5 Seconds of Summer are on in a few minutes,” she said, linking their arms together. “Oh, and you are?” she asked, turning to Charli who gave her a predatory smile.
“Charli XCX, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand for Selena to shake.
“Likewise,” said Selena, giving Charli a cold smile, it was fascinating, Matty thought; they were like two cats circling each other, waiting for the other to pounce so they could claim self defense. “I like that one song you have, Boom Clap,” she said sweetly.
“Thank you,” said Charli, “you’re not performing tonight?” she asked. Matty thought it was interesting that Selena didn’t introduce herself, not even pretending that Charli might not know who she was. Matty wished he could have that kind of confidence.
“No, no,” said Selena, “I’m just here to support my friends, it’s Taylor’s birthday today,” she said as if anyone could have missed the memo. “You’re coming to the party tonight right?” All of the performers had been invited.
“I’m not sure yet,” said Charli, backing off slightly.
Selena gave her a warmer smile. “You should, it will be a fun night. Everyone will be there.”
“And there is a chicken tender bar,” Matty chimed in, feeling like he needed to add something.
Selena snorted. “Oh trust me, I’ve heard, other than you, it’s all she’s talked about the last two weeks.”
“A chicken tender bar?” Charli asked.
“Exactly my reaction,” said Matty. “Anyway, we best get going.”
“It was nice meeting you Carly,” said Selena giving Charli a little wave as they made their way back down the hallway towards Taylor’s dressing room.
“Her name’s Charli,” Matty said quietly once they were out of earshot.
Selena snorted. “I know.”
Matty laughed, “thank you,” he said as they rounded another corner. He hadn’t realized he had wondered so far.
“Of course!” said Selena cheerfully, “you looked like you needed saving, do you two know one another?”
“Sort of,” Matty said, “she’s friends with George.”
“That’s your drummer,” said Selena before lowering her voice. “And your boyfriend.”
“Drummer, yes,” said Matty, not sure why he wasn’t surprised that Selena seemed to know his secrets, but taking it to mean she knew Taylor’s too, “the other bit, is em, complicated.”
“It always is,” said Selena sagely. “It always is.”