Nothing You've Come To Expect - Alex Turner

25. she was bitten on her birthday and now...

Warning: smutty scene right after lunch, ops 😆

I set all the ingredients and the necessary items on Alex's kitchen counter: olive oil, onion, strained tomatoes, salt, spaghetti, basil a big pot and a smaller pot.
"Alright! Ready?"
"Yes ma'am," Alex raises his hand to his forehead mimicking a salute.
I set the smaller pot on the stove and I pour some olive oil in it.
"Ok, I'm going to chop the onion, can you please start with filling the big pot with water and put it on the stove? Remember to salt it."
"Roger!"

Alex insisted on having his cooking class, mostly for me as a distraction. I haven't been feeling great after the assault, as you can imagine. Our weekend at the cottage on the beach was cozy and lazy like we wanted, but I couldn't really relax. My mind kept going back to that horrible night.
Vera told me to get as much time off as I needed and I definitely didn't feel like going back to work the next Monday. I took the whole week off. I needed some mental health time off. I'm still processing.
Alex had to go back to LA for rehearsals and he took me with him.

A week later, I'm still shaken and not sleeping well. But I'd be in a very much darker place if Alex wasn't with me.
I haven't being able to get intimate with him and it frustrates me a lot. I want to make love with him, but as soon as he touches me in a certain way, I freak. I'm having PTSD. I feel bad; the guy can barely touch me. Even a simple hug, if unexpected, can be a trigger. I keep apologizing.
"Why would you say sorry?" It's his usual reply. "Take your time, baby."

That's the problem though: we don't have time. He will leave for Europe the day after the gig at the House of Blues, which is in a couple of days. And I want him. I won't be seeing him for another, what, three weeks?
I want him and I can't have him. It's torture.
Am I being punished for being so lucky to get him? It surely feels like it.

"Pot is on! Should I break the spaghetti?"
I raise my eyes on him suddenly. "No! Don't you dare."
"Ok!" He chuckles. "I'm feeling tense all of a sudden," he teases me.
"You wanted this! I warned you," I remind him.
"Right, right."
I toss the onion in the pot with the oil. "Ok, now I'm going to let this sauté for a little bit and...NO!" I almost scream.

I catch him as he's about to toss the spaghetti in the water. Thankfully I stop him in time. "What are you doing?! You freaking Anglo-Saxon barbarian!"
He looks at me confused, then laughs.

I shake my head. "You have to bring the water to a boil, then and only then, toss the pasta in. Good thing we started from the basics!"
Alex is still laughing. He grabs his phone and calls someone, putting them on speaker phone.

"Miles, Anna is teaching me how to cook spaghetti."
"Ouch! And how is it going?"
"She just called me a 'fucking Anglo-Saxon barbarian'."
Miles cackling comes through the phone. It's impossible not to be infected by it.
"I didn't say 'fucking'!"
"You thought it though."
"Yeah," I concede with a smile, "I did."
Another one of Miles' laughs.
"I warned you mate. You don't wanna get between Italians and their cooking."
"I did too Miles, he said he could take it."
"Well, now I'm regretting all my life decisions. But I'll be brave."
"Good luck man."

We go on with our preparations, laughing, joking, teasing each other, singing together to the music playing in shuffle in the background. This was a good idea. I'm having fun and I'm not thinking about my misfortunes.

The sauce is done, pasta is boiling, only a few minutes left.
"Have a taste." I scoop some tomato sauce and I take it to his mouth. He sucks on my finger, looking into my eyes.
"Mmh..." his noise of appreciation sounds pretty sexual, I think without intention. Something about it turns me on.