The 1975 Runaway

Grace Forsyth, eighteen years old, abused. Abused by her boyfriend and people at school. Grace's life seemed to be going further and further into a spiral of despair, until one night she packs up everything and runs away. Walking along a deserted road in the middle of nowhere, Grace is stopped by a red Volkswagen type 2. And she can't believe it to be The 1975.

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4. Matty's POV

Matty's POV:

Grace is such a nice girl. She's really hot and really funny. I like her a lot. I can tell George, Ross and Adam like her. Not a lot of girls make them smile like she does.

And its weird, she seems like a girl who's sort of scared, but yet she ran away from home. She can run away from problems so easily. She also has this massive scratch down her leg and I want to ask about it, but I keep forgetting. 

I only like meeting chilled out fans like Grace, who don't chase us places or stalk. She isn't insane or obsessed or anything, she's just chilled out. And she smokes. It's really hot.

We pulled up outside a bar which was open twenty-four hours. Adam, Ross and George got out of the truck. I said I'd catch them up. Grace went to leave but stopped when I didn't come.

"You coming?" she asked. "It's totally risky for me to be going out because I could be recognised by anyone who knows my parents. But then again, you guys could be recognised so I'll take my chances."

I laughed. "I'll come soon."

"Then I'll wait, too."

And we waited, smoked a cigarette together with her 1975 lighter, discussed songs and music, and discussed our lives. There wasn't really much to tell her apart from a few things you can't read online.

I learnt that she was just a normal girl, with her favourite band of course. But I would never have thought Grace was one to suppress herself to bullying and abuse. And I never would have thought that she would have ever ever been sexually abused by her own boyfriend. That is just something that should never happen. Ever.

And then it hit me, Grace was actually taking my mind off of her ass or her boobs. Of course those things mattered a great deal, but I was starting to just talk to her. And I figured that maybe I was starting to like this girl. But she did have a really nice ass.

"Grace..." I started. "I really like you."

"I like you, too."

And then we were kissing. Just messing around, I guess. But there we were. Sitting in the back of our van surrounded by cigarette smoke and the smell of alcohol and our songs playing in the background. 

Before they came back to see if we were coming, we had kissed for a good twenty minutes or so. We did a lot more than just kiss, but I didn't want to ruin the moment and think about it.

"Seems like you two got up to a lot,"  George said as he pulled open the van door, carrying a crate of beer.

I laughed; then I moved over next to George and picked two beers up. "Could you not have got wine?" I asked, I had never been a fan of beer. But considering the fact that I was under the influence already, I drunk away.

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