AM

Do I Wanna Know?

Alex downed the fourth or fifth shot he'd had that night. Against his better judgement, he ordered another from the bartender. When the small glass was placed in front of him, Alex reached out to grab it. He was about to drink before a voice nearby distracted him. He didn't hear exactly what was said, but the voice was magnificent.

Putting the shot glass down, Alex turned his head. A few stools along sat the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hair was dark, dancing between brown and black under the flashing lights. It fell in a natural cascade of waves, stopping just below her shoulders. And her face: intoxicating chocolate eyes, emphasised by the glittering gold eyeshadow she was wearing. Her lips were a dark cherry and Alex found himself imagining her lipstick smudged around her mouth.

He had to talk to her.

To boost his confidence, Alex finished his shot and quickly paid the bartender. He exhaled sharply as he made his way over to her. A song that he recognised from his sleazy high school days was playing in the background that filled him with adrenaline.

"Hello there," he said. He hoped that his accent would grab her attention, as it had done so many times in the past. And it didn't fail him.

She looked up at him. Alex noticed her cheeks turn pink. She opened her mouth to speak and he raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

"Aren't you a catch," someone said. It was the unmistakable sound of a drunken drawl.

Sitting on the girl's other side was a man who most definitely was one drink away from passing out. His eyelids were half shut over bloodshot eyes and his hands were starting to wander over to her.

"Not interested," she stated. She made a big deal out of turning her back on him, but that only fueled his interest.

He put his filthy hand on her back and Alex was about to step in. Before he could, she had her hand around his wrist, squeezing tightly enough to shock the man. His eyes widened and he immediately pulled his hand away.

"Damn, lady," he muttered while he left.

"Sorry about him," the girl said. Her voice was sultry and it only lured Alex in even more. He sat next to her.

He leant in a little closer. "Do you ever get scared that you can get rid of that type?" he asked.

"They stick around like something in my teeth, don't they?" she chuckled. "I'm used to it."

"I'm sure you are, a girl like you." Alex bit his lip and winked.

She stuck out her hand and he shook it. "I'm Arabella."

Arabella. He'd be more than happy groaning that name into her ear.

"Alex."

They struck up a conversation that ultimately ended in Alex's bed. This was a scenario that they found themselves in multiple times.

Each time it happened, Alex found that Arabella always seemed to have the upper hand in their relationship. Whatever their relationship was. He was under her spell and she had no idea that she was in deep. Really deep.

It had been over a week since they'd met, and Alex had dreamt about Arabella nearly every night. She was an enigma and he wanted to find out everything about her. He listened to his thumping high school song that was playing when they met. Each lyric reminded Alex of Arabella. He'd play it on repeat while sipping whisky on his sofa, spilling it when he fell asleep with the glass in his hand.

When Alex woke up with his pounding hangover, he was still thinking about her - thinking about the single question to which he wasn't sure he wanted the answers.

Did she like him as much as he liked her?

The morning after their long nights spend under the sheets, Arabella would leave only a few minutes after waking up. Alex never gathered the courage to ask her to stay and regretted the decision the second the door shut behind her.

They never met during the day. Perhaps the night was made for doing things, saying things they wouldn't if they were completely sober.

But when the sun began to fall and if he was tipsy, Alex crawled back to Arabella. He wondered if she ever thought of calling when she'd had a few. He always did. Always.

Arabella lived a wild life, however. He recognised that about her character instantly. Despite this, he couldn't bring himself to sleep with somebody else. He was too busy being hers. So he went back to her like clockwork.

One night, Alex decided to return to the nightclub that he knew Arabella would be visiting too. Sure enough, she was perched on a bar stool, her right leg crossed over her left. He made eye contact with her. He waited a few seconds before strolling towards her.

"I was wonderin' if you had the guts," Alex said, leaning forward to let his sunglasses slide a little way down his nose. To respond to her questioning expression, he continued, "The guts to make the first move."

Arabella scoffed. "You'll come over eventually. Besides, my heart is open to anyone right now."

"What time does it shut?" Alex replied.

"Whenever you've come inside." She opened her mouth to continue. Perhaps she was going to say something substantial, but he didn't let her by kissing her fiercely.

"Sorry to interrupt," he muttered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

Arabella pulled back a little which stopped Alex from kissing her again. Turns out she just wanted to have a sip of her drink, but it didn't ease his worries that maybe she didn't feel as strongly as he did.

Even so, the night led them to Alex's bedroom as it had done without fail many nights before. And once again, Arabella was gone when he woke up.

He groaned and stretched a little. He'd been hoping against hope that she would stay for once. Trying to work off the hangover that was attacking his head, Alex rolled out of bed to get some water. He was about to stand when he noticed something on his bedside table.

A note.

Eyes widening, Alex picked up the small piece of paper and read it fervently. The note consisted of two words. 

Call me.

He felt a slight pang that she couldn't have just said that to his face, but then again, it was always easier to do so indirectly.

They'd exchanged numbers soon after meeting but neither of them had contacted each other through their phones. Of course, Alex often sat on his sofa, the third glass of vodka in one hand, his phone in the other, wondering if he should press that dreaded call button or not.

Alex knew that after Arabella, he wouldn't be able to fall for somebody else. Despite the short time they'd known each other and the arguably loveless nature of their time together, he was sure that she really was special.

Going against what his heart was yearning for, Alex decided to stay in the night after Arabella left her note. He would call her, but he'd wait.

She must know that he wants her badly. She must know.

But what Alex didn't know was if Arabella felt as strongly as he did about her. Strong enough to call him first. He asked himself if he really did want the answer to that question, and was ultimately able to push it out of his thoughts until he was on the cusp of falling asleep.

Alex dreamt of her. He dreamt of running up to Arabella only to have her turn away, leaving a note behind.

When we woke up, he knew that he couldn't stay away from her for too long. The only problem was did she want that too?