Beneath the Boardwalk (Alex Turner)

19 {i fancy you with a passion}

Matt wouldn't shut up about Brea. Even when he brought her to all of the times we hung out.  Their  overwhelmingly cute and simple. 

I wasn't that on track with my other subjects but I got a few assignments in, at least. I was distracted at work. Jamie was pestering me. I was hung up on Alex and I couldn't get him out of my head. Is that okay? I had nobody to talk to, since Matt would barely give me the time and I didn't want to talk to anybody else. 

"Quinn? You alright?" Nick waved his hand in front of my face. I was painting, or supposed to be painting. 

"Uh, yeah. Just... zoned out."

"Need a glass of water? You look really worried." Well, I was. With everything that I heard yesterday, anybody would. The roof of my mouth was dry. 

"Nah, I'm fine."

* * *

I sat up in the front of auditorium in English. Only, it barely felt like a class anymore. I was driven insane, with semantics and details and I was failing on trying to deny that I didn't like Turner.... God, but is it really so wrong? I was a bit scared that I really like the unfairly hot, broken, semi-professor with a taste for tragedy.

I watched as Alex's heels clacked on the floor and his pokerface masked his features. I played with the hem of my jeans and fidgeted in my seat. He was good at not showing how he felt, unless he wanted to. While he was teaching the lesson I couldn't help but lower my gaze, on how the suit framed him, his stance. I noticed he glanced at me a few times, but I tried to avoid eye contact. 

Of course my head just picks the best time to keep remembering the feel of his lips on my neck, and my cheeks are a furious red, I know. I need the drink of water now. I pick at my nails to look down a distract myself. I need to get a grip. 

I try to stay looking down the whole time, just needing to get through the class again. When  the day finishes, Turner runs a hand through his hair, and ends the lesson. I slowly pack up my things so that I can talk to him once everybody is out, but one of the girls I know in this class walks up to me. 

"Jin, right?" She tilts her head, fixing the strap on her purse. 

"Yeah, uh, Quinn--"

She steps closer and lowers her voice to a whisper. "Why does Mr. Turner always look at you during class? He was practically eye-fucking you the entire time."

I open my mouth then close it. I shrug. "I didn't notice."

"Then you're blind and he's a creep. I've heard bad things about him." She shakes her head and runs off with the rest of the group. I swallow. I don't like her almost automatically. I mean, rumours aren't always true. 

I take a moment, then a deep breath, and head over to Alex's desk. I bite my lip. "Hey."

He turns back around to me, and then takes a seat on his desk. "Hello, Greene."

I clear my throat. "Okay, so I was wondering..."

Alex nods, and his hair falls a bit. "Yes, you had looked particularily distracted. What were you wanting to know?"

"What you told me yesterday, that was all old news to you, right?" 

Pause. "I guess," he mumbles. 

"Then what did the superintendent say to you? You never told me that."

Alex takes a long breath in, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I..." He lets his hand fall to his lap, crossing his ankles. "I prefer not to bother you about that, Quinn."

"I'm sick of you not wanting to tell me things. I haven't had the easiest life either. Not nearly like yours, but I won't fall apart if you tell me." I pull up the chair and sit down, picking at my lip. 

"The best way I can put it..." He shakes his head, clearly upset and scratches the back of his neck. "He was... sexually objectifying you, and...... Quinn, he's a horrible person."

"And...?"

"And... God, can't we just leave it at that? He said he liked you, and he'd... do things to you...." He clenches and unclenches his fists, and then angrily runs a hand through his hair. "If I didn't hurry up and find what I needed."

"Oh." I stand up. "I should go--"

"No. Wait." Alex swallows. "I'm done with--whatever you're doing. You know I really....fancy you, Quinn. I just.... are you just going to fookin' leave everytime you talk to me? I said I could wait until you were okay with how I feel, but I don't like waiting. Waiting means I have less control, and I have too much of that already."

My heart speeds up. "I..."

"Do you not... feel anything back? Am I just pressuring you?" Turner asks, looking disgusted with himself. 

"No! No--" 

"You're just saying that. Of course. You're too rational. I should've known the first time I saw you." He shakes his head, scoffing bitterly. Scorn dripping from his voice. "All your writing is logic. Of course you're not going to get involved with a teacher. Of course you wouldn't be so stupid as to actually like me." He stuffs his papers into the bag, not caring if they get ripped. 

"What the hell do you mean by that?" He ignores me. "I may think rationally, but that has nothing to do with what I feel!" 

"Well, say it then. How do you feel?" He says sarcastically. 

"I'm afraid because I find you to be so goddamn attractive. I'm afraid because I get so nervous in front of you, and I'm really nervous right now and I'm offended that you think like that. I'm afraid because I know you're in deep shit. But I just don't know how to say things without screwing it up. And I really've been wanting to make out with you for a while but I'm not that kind of person that just does things. I don't do things recklessly. And I'm afraid because you're the very definition of reckless." I need water. "Okay?"

Turner steps closer to me and places both hands on the arms of the chair, leaning slightly. He smirks. "Do you know what I'm going to do right now?"

"What are you going to do," I bite my lip.

"I'm going to kiss you right now," he whispers, in his low accent. 

My pulse is racing. I swallow. I'm done with the denial. "Please," I whisper. 

Alex leans down and fuck, he's so close to me and his hair brushes my face. I tilt my chin up. His lips are soft, and I feel the cut he had on the corner of his lips and the kiss is needy. He tastes like tragedy and passion with a hint of ash. I'm barely breathing as I feel him push me deeper in the chair. 

His tongue glides across my teeth and I let out a soft moan. He chuckles warmly, and I want him closer. "Are you alright with this," he mumbles. 

"Extremely," I whisper, smiling against his lips.