Disaster • Arctic Monkeys Fanfiction

[eleven]

Indi's POV

(Song suggestion for chapter- "I Wish I knew You" by The Revivalists)

I don't know how I'd gotten myself into this.

But currently I was in the city, at my first ever club, moving through the crowd hand-in-hand with Alex Turner.

It all seemed so surreal.  

The speakers were playing some song Rose liked that I would of thought to be too alternative for a club.  I still hadn't seen either her or Alicia, but I was sure I'd find them around somewhere. 

I don't think I'd seen so many people stare at me in my entire life. Granted, they weren't staring at me singularly-- they were staring at me because I was with Alex.

We staked our claim in the middle of the dance floor.  We both stopped and just stood there for a moment, watching each other and not moving. 

Alex's words ran through my mind.  We would never see each other again after night.  

Why not live it up?

So I grabbed both of his hands and started swing dancing.  

"What.... what are you doing?" he asked, as I lifted his arm and span under it.  

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I said as I twirled.  "I'm dancing."

He eyed the couples around us, all of them grinding or jumping.  

"You never requested a specific type of dancing," I reminded him.

He continued to stare at me, puzzled, before a small smile broke.  I hadn't realized until then how nice his teeth were.  They weren't perfect, but they looked good on him.

The music picked up, the lyrics floating around us.

"Two strangers in the bright light..."

That's when he really started dancing.  He took the lead, his grip tightened and somewhere in the mess of heat and laughter and music his hand had found its way to my waist.  I didn't protest, though.

I was having fun.  I was actually having fun.

"Right then," he said, dipping me down so low that I had to squeal before he pulled me back up.  "I think it's my turn to interview you, 

"Bad idea," I said, breathlessly.  "It might shatter the illusion."

"What does that matter?" he challenged.  "We're never going to see each other again."

"So you keep saying.  I'm beginning to think you don't like me very much."

He laughed, which, surprisingly, caused my laughter to follow.

He spun me around quickly.  "Favorite album?"

That was a no brainer.  "Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust.  But, if we're going to do this, can you try to keep it interesting?"

He smirked.  "Fine.  Favorite body part?"

"Brain." 

Another spin.  "Title your life."

I thought for a moment, but he spoke before I could think about it too hard.

"I got it," he said. "Angsty Reporter vs. The World."

"More like Headstrong Future Photojournalist vs. Egotistical Band Boy,"I corrected him.

"Band Boy is a derogatory term," he said.  "Have you ever even listened to the Monkeys? Or are you too defiant?"

"Of course I have," I shot at him. "I like your sound, your lyrics.  But you on the other hand..."

The music heightened at the chorus. He spun me again and then roped his arm around me and pulled me to him.  Our bodies collided, my face resting just inches from him for a dangerous moment.  

Up close, I could see just how ridiculously smooth his skin was and how his nose was so straight and perfect that it could have belonged to a Roman statue.  His scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke drifted around me, threatening to swallow me whole...

We both seemed to realize our closeness at the same time.  We pulled back, our hands still connected.  He spun me again, and I tried not to notice the heat rising to my cheeks.  

He smiled at me and all at once I felt so incredibly electric.  So energized, so young, so free.

So... alive.