Beneath the Boardwalk (Alex Turner)

13 {no red lips}

"How's the job so far?" I ask Jamie, yesterday still lingering on my mind. 

"Doing great," he awkwardly smiles, cleaning up the needles and templates and anything around the Boardwalk that needs tidying. "How are you?"

"Uh, fine I guess." I don't have much to do, other than wait until a customer walks in. I counted how much money I had. I had eleven grand saved in the bank for the future--education, future bills, future house. I needed the money back after the loan--

"Hello?" Jamie raises his eyebrows a tiny bit. 

"Oh, sorry?" I didn't hear him. 

"I asked if you had any plans for the weekend," he smiled weakly. 

"I don't think so," I shrug. I'm not good at small talk. 

"Did you maybe want to hang out?" He shrugged back. 

I tilt my head at him. "To do what?"

"I don't know. Grab a beer. Friend stuff."

I press my lips togehther, tapping at my desk. "We're friends?"

"I only assume so. We talk everyday. You're pretty cool, I guess. Why not?"

"Okay, sound fun," I smile. 

"How about tonight?" 

"Anytime except for tonight."

"Why not tonight?" Jamie picks up a pen on my desk and begins to fiddle with it. There was something shifting in his tone.

"Just busy," I say slowly. 

"What are you doing?"

I stand up. "Just staying for some extra help at school. Learning, right? Not a problem."

"Yeah, 'course. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," Jamie looks at the time. "Hey, I should go. My shift's up." He waves and then leaves the shoppe, chiming the bell on the way out. I watch him through the glass windows as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and scurries off. That was weird. Well, I shouldn't think much of it. 

* * *

Instead of my usual red lipstick I decide I'm lazy today and forget to put it on. I never liked getting up, however I usually do enjoy mornings. I like the morning drink. Watching the sun rise. But I hate waking up and getting out of bed, so I stayed in a little longer today. And I knew then it was going to be a very long day. 

I was looking back on my marks in my other classes, and I was doing horribly; I needed to get focused on my studies a little bit more. I reluctantly got ready for the day, and then I brought my checkbook. I stared at it for a moment longer than I needed to, looking underneath my fingers at the paper. My hands were cold. 

I pulled on a hoodie and headed out into the cooler air, seeing my breath on the fog and hitting the hard pavement. 

* * *

After Bio, Matt caught up with me in the hallways. "I need your help."

"What could it possibly be for?" I adjust my bag strap. 

"Brea asked if I wanted to go to a double date? And so I need you to be my date to go," Matt crosses his fingers hopefully. "I mean, no offense, but I don't like you like that. I just need you to help me out."

"Matt--"

"Please? Please? Come on, please," he grins. 

I laugh. "I would never."

He furrows. stopping in his tracks. "Rude."

"No! I mean, Brea isn't asking you to find your own date, doofus." I raise my eyebrows, then when he doesn't understand, flick his head. 

He mocks pain, but I stop him from saying more. "She's asking you to go with her on a double date."

"That can't be right."

"Yeah, it is. I'm a girl. I'd know."

"Oh, yeah, I totally forgot you were a girl," Matt rolls his eyes. "Then should I go?"

"Up to you. Not like you could find a date other than her. Take the chance."

"Rude," Matt laughs and flips me off, walking away. I shake my head. 

* * *

Then comes what I was most nervous for the whole day and had been avoiding. I put what happened yesterday deep in the confines of my mind and I didn't want to to think about what happened when Matt called (his problem was answered) and I didn't want to think about Turner's reaction. I'm not looking for trouble. 

I walk inside and take a seat, trying not to draw attention to myself. 

To all of our suprise Turner's perfectly on time. He wanders on about, talking about the Shakespeare assignment that we'd have to do since everybody but me finished. He didn't look at me, but didn't try to avoid me at least. But he did look worried. His hair was even messier than yesterday. Maybe I could get through this wish ease, I thought. 

Everybody had a huge assignment to go with reading his book. Maybe it was easier my way. I'd have more time to focus on my other classes. That's the reason I'm here, I remind myself. 

When everybody else leaves, I drop by to make my meet with Turner quick. I found myself frequenting this place after school alot, and I didn't know how I felt about that. All I knew is that whenever I had to talk to him my palms would sweat slightly and I was always nervous, and I didn't like that. 

He says nothing as I approach his desk and sit on the chair like I had before, pull out my checkbook, and quickly write him a cheque. He was watching me in silence the entire time, his feet crossed, legs propped up on the desk. Leaning back in his chair. 

I rip the paper off and hand it to him. He doesn't take it. My arm gets tired and I put it down. I knew he was going to say something that would confuse me. 

But instead, came out: "You're not wearing your signature red lipstick today," he remarks. 

I suddenly feel very aware of my lips. "Yeah."

He pauses. Then takes a deep breath in and sits up, pulling his chair towards his desk and leaning over it onto his elbows. "How old are you?"

"Why would it matter," I mumble, trying to get him to take the cheque again. 

"It's a simple question."

I sigh, putting down the paper. "Twenty-five."

He nods once, slowly. 

"Why do you get to ask questions about me and I can't do the same with you?" 

"You just ask all the wrong questions," he says deliberately. His eyebrows are raised, and he's tapping a pen on his desk. 

"You're a mystery," I think out loud. 

"Darling, I'm nothing but. Now about yesterday--"

"Don't. I don't want to make a big deal out of nothing. Just take the cheque."

"Do you not like me?"

I open my mouth, then close it. 

"As in, do you not like being around me? You always seem so intimidated. It would be bittersweet for you to hate me."

"I," I shift in my seat. I don't have any clue what to say. My heart picks up a bit. 

He stands up. Turner's heels clack on the floor before he sits on his desk, right next to me. The pant of his suit brushes against my legs. "So I do intimidate you?" He smirks, his voice deeper. I notice his accent linger. 

"Well, when you do that," I swallow. 

"Do what?"

"That." Everything about him. 

"Specific," he scoffs. "Before you go, I would in particular.... like to know what you would have done yesterday before you got that call."