Merry Christmas, I Could Care Less

After being friends with Matt for as long as we had been friends, I had come to realize some things. One of those things was that a lot of the time, if we were at a party together, there would always be two things that would more than likely happen: I would probably end up not remembering how I got to whoever’s bed I was sleeping in, and two, I usually woke up next to Matt.

Of course, this particular morning was no different.

When I crawled out of his bed in search of some clothes, I realized two things: I had gotten high last night for the first time in about two months, and I had also had sex with Matt for, coincidentally, the first time in two months. As I walked over to where a pile of what I hoped was clean clothing and grabbed a shirt and a pair of sweats to slip on, something much bigger hit me.

It was December first.

Every year, my parents threw this annual "Kick-Off the Christmas Season" party at our house. They had been doing it since I was just a baby, and every year I hated it more and more. It was just an excuse for my parents to show off their wealth and say they were helping various charities out so others would donate and think my parents were proper brilliant or something.

I knew they were expecting me to show up, fake a smile, and be polite the whole night, as I was to do every year. I just didn't want to put up with that this year. Not again. But I knew I had to. Because I was still pretty dependent on them after all. They paid for a lot of the things I did, biggest example: my rent. As much as I hated almost everything about them, I didn't hate them completely. Oddly enough though, I hated the fact I depended on them so much.

After I dressed myself and warmth had consumed me I looked back over to Matt, who was face down in his pillows, the sheets to his bed tangled at his waist. His now shorter hair was still sticking up in every which way like it usually did after a night with me, and he looked rather adorable lying there. Normally I left, or walked out into the living room to hang with Tom and whoever else was over and waited until he woke up, but today I decided to crawl back into bed next to him.

I nuzzled my cold nose into his chest and placed a few kisses along the tattoo on his chest before just settling on cuddling with him. Unfortunately, I had woke him up out of his seemingly peaceful slumber and caused him yawn loudly. He turned over towards me and seemed to be confused by the fact I was now fully clothed, but didn't say a thing as he wrapped his arms around my waist tightly.

Matt wasn't my boyfriend, but he liked to pretend he was.

"Mornin'" he smiled, fighting back another yawn and only causing me to do the same.

"Mornin'," I greeted him back.

"Yeh're dressed," he noted, letting his fingers play with a loose string hanging from the end of the tee-shirt I had thrown over my head.

"Yeh're very observant, aren't yeh?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. He smiled and kissed my nose softly.

"Yeh're a smart ass," he responded.

"'ow did I get 'ere las' nigh'?" I inquired, suddenly extremely curious by the fact the last thing I remembered was throwing back drinks with Matt and Tom after we smoked a blunt. And when we were doing those things, we certainly weren't at their flat.

"Well, after yeh got pretteh tanked, Tommy an' I brought yeh back 'ere. I drove my car an’ Tommy drove yehrs. An’ then once we got ta me bedroom yeh seduced me," he explained. I snorted.

"Somefhing tells me it didn't take a lot ta seduce yeh," I scoffed, pushing my bangs out of my eyes. "Yeh're pretteh easy."

"I'm easy?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"When it comes to me anyway," I shrugged. He didn't answer me. I knew he didn't enjoy the fact that I had some sort of weird power over him (Quinn called it love) but I certainly did. I didn't always use it to my advantage but sometimes I did it without thinking.

I could tell he was quite perturbed by my last comment, so instead of getting up or rolling my eyes at how terribly awkward he got sometimes I just kissed him. Morning breath and all. I didn't really care much, and I knew he didn't either. In fact, he quite enjoyed sex in the morning.

He always kissed me like he really needed me, and call me crazy but I rather enjoyed it. It was nice to know he wanted me so badly sometimes. His lips were rough against my own, and I could tell I wasn't going to get out of this with just a make out session. Before I knew it his cold hands were creeping their way up my tee-shirt and I was gasping because of the sudden drop of temperature.

"Why did yeh even get dressed again?" He groaned against my lips.

"I like makin' yeh're life difficult," I responded as I tugged on his hair.

I went straight to my parent's house after I had finished a shower with Matt. His hands had barely left me since he had gotten back. I knew the months apart really affected him like that, although I wasn't sure why. I was sure he was sexually fulfilled on tour, after all, he was a rock star and all.

I knew I looked dreadful, and I knew the oversized clothes hanging off my body screamed of the walk of shame, but I couldn't say I cared all too much about my parent's approval. They knew I disliked them and that only made them spoil me more. They enjoyed trying to buy my love.

"McKinley, yeh look positively dreadful," my mother grimaced as she looked at me. "Like yeh jus' crawled out of an alley."

"Not quite," I replied shortly, taking a seat at the island that sat in the middle of the kitchen. My mother wasn't cooking, but she was pretending she was. In reality I knew their chef Lucy had cooked breakfast this morning, but my mother liked to make herself look like a wonderful housewife and therefore took to reheating things like a pro.

"Yeh better get dressed up fer tonigh'," she told me. "We're havin' some very respectable people over."

"Oh really?" I asked, feigning interest as I lazily walked over to the fridge. I grabbed a carton of orange juice and didn't bother to pour some into a glass before taking a sip.

"Oh McKinley!" My mother cried out. "Yeh're a lady!"

"Oh."

She sighed over dramatically and fluffed her hair a bit. She straightened her posture up as to make herself look more important and looked at me narrowly. "I'm beggin' yeh ta be on yeh're best behavior," she stated. "Don't yeh 'ave somefhing nice ta wear? And maybe yeh can brush yeh're 'air, yeah? Yeh can't look like a tramp all the time."

"A tramp? Really mum?" I glared at her.

"Yeh walk in 'ere wearin' dirty clothes and reeking of cigarettes," she gestured widely at me. "Yeh look like a mess, I fhink yeh know tha'. An' God only knows wha' yeh we're doin' las' nigh'!" She yelled.

"Don't yeh mean who I was doin'?" I asked with a smirk. Her eyes went wide and she clamped her hands over her ears dramatically.

"Don't say those fhings!" She howled. "I don't ever want ta see or 'ear any of those grimy boys yeh 'ang out wiff. Yeh're so much better than tha', love."

"Better than wha'?" I challenged her.

"They're all dope 'eads!" She exclaimed. "They're all worthless an' lazy. A waste of space if yeh ask me," she straightened her posture again and quite literally stuck her nose in the air. I wondered if she had done it on purpose or if it was just a natural reaction of her at this point.

"Yeh don't even know 'em," I said. "Yeh 'ave no place ta say such things."

"McKinley, I know a lot more than yeh fhink," she shook her head. "Now please, go find somefhing presentable ta wear," she said, turning her back towards me and continuing to make herself look busy.

I scoffed at her and placed the carton of orange juice back in the fridge, closing it much more loudly than I probably should have. My mother jumped slightly at the sudden noise and just as I was leaving again, turned over her shoulder to call out to me.

"Oh! An' Mary's son is comin' ova," she yelled after me. "'e's a great boy. Goin' ta school fer business, 'e is. Gonna take ova ‘is father’s company when ‘e’s old enough. I want yeh ta meet 'im. 'e'll be yeh're date. Yeh two would make a gorgeous pair," she gushed. Knowing her she was already planning our wedding in her head.

It was so like my mother to try and set me up with one of her socialite friend's sons. She was determined to have me set up with someone wealthy so I could follow in her footsteps when I was older. She wanted me to marry rich and resume the life of a trophy wife, something that didn't appeal to me in the least bit. I could just imagine her and my father's faces if they ever laid eyes on the guys I was usually attracted to. I reveled in the thought of how appalled they would be if I came to one of their parties with someone covered in tattoos, long hair, skinny jeans, the whole nine yards.

Someone like Matt for instance.

And just like that a light bulb popped over my head.