She didn't smoke.

She didn't drink.

She didn't dress like a desperate girl.

So, why did he like her?

Matty sat in the backyard of his and George's home.

He had a spliff between his lips.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he took his index and middle fingers on both hands, and repeatedly hit his temples with them.

She didn't throw herself at him.

Fuck, she hardly spoke to him.

She was kind, always.

How?

How was she always chipper?

It was rare that he looked into her eyes when greeting her and he saw a speck of sadness.

He saw something deeper within her green eyes.

He'd love to pull some bullshit about how he could see himself in her eyes, but this just wasn't the case.

He was far too open about his emotions, if not the reasons behind them.

But she...

She was just the opposite.

Joy was the only thing you could detect from this girl, and that was what Matty knew most.

He'd see her every day, in a small coffee house on the corner of Maine and Adelaide.

It was a nice place, really.

He much preferred it to any type of Starbucks.

George liked it, too.

God knows Matty thought the world of George, but that's a different story.

He inhaled the smoke, holding it for a few moments, his eyes pressed tightly shut as he mapped out the process of the smoke going down his throat, to his lungs, filling them up and swirling around before he exhaled, imagining it doing everything again, only this time backwards.

She was cute.

He opened his eyes, gazing hazily at the trees around him.

Matty wondered how long his eyes had really been closed, and if he had perhaps fallen asleep sitting up.

Was he really that out if it?

He glanced at a tree to his mid-right, noting that the red of the leaves was almost as pretty as her Strawberry blonde hair.

She was pale, but not too pale.

Sun kissed, he thought... Maybe...

Her eyebrows were dark, and shapely.

Hell, they were in better shape than he was if he were honest about it.

Despite this, she didn't have the abundance of freckles that most ginger types had.

It was nice... It was unique.

She was thin, but not paper thin.

She was fit. A bit like George, but not as tall.

She looked strong, and he had no doubt that she wasn't.

She was almost his height as well, which Matty found refreshing.

He liked the inch difference in height.

It was just enough where he could imagine hugging her, arms tightly wound around her with his chin resting lightly on her head.

As much as he liked that idea, he'd rather bury his face in her hair.

He wanted to grip her tightly, the way you do with someone you love or someone who you've missed for a long time.

Jessie.

Her name was Jessie.

He squinted up at the trees.

"Jessie..." He let her name fall from his lips.

"I'm not Jessie, I'm George."

Matty broke from his trance.

He gazed up at the giant, who stood behind him and he couldn't help but think that George bare resemblance to a tree, himself.

"Oh, get off it." Matty let out, light heartedly.

George let out a laugh.

"Come on, then. You've been out here for ages and I've just brought pizza. You need to eat before Ross and Adam eat it all."

Matty nodded, holding his hand out to George to take.

Matty stood up with his assistance and he passed what was left over of the joint to George, who accepted it gladly.

Matty didn't like girls like that.

There was no way.

They weren't his type.

She was tame, and he slept around.

He was an unpredictable mess, or so he thought.

She was organized, calm, and collected all the time.

Perhaps she was just too perfect for him, with the flakes of gold in her piercing green eyes.

His last thought of it consisted of two parts;

1. Green eyes and ginger hair were actually a very rare combination.

2. He wasn't going to allow himself to like her.

It'd be easy.

At least, he thought.