ARABELLA • Alex Turner

THIRTEEN

~

Arabella didn't know where she was when she first cracked her eyes open.

It had been a long time since she'd slept anywhere but her own bedroom, and the sight of unfamiliar white walls with unfamiliar posters lining them had her groggy mind immediately confused.

Had she gone mad and redecorated her room without remembering? Or blacked out and ended up at a friend's house? Or even worse, had she been abducted? The possibilities were endless, and her brain had the unfortunate habit of always assuming the worst.

It wasn't until she became a little more lucid that she realised where she really was, and everything came flooding back. The wine, the talking, the sex, Alex.

She shifted lazily, realising that she was still completely naked under the soft cotton bedsheets, and turned her head in search of the man.

   Her thoughts were slow as she lingered in that space between sleep and wakefulness, but when she saw him she couldn't help the smile that tweaked her lips upwards.

   Alex looked incredibly peaceful lying there on his side next to her, face smushed into the pillow. One of his arms still rested on her bare waist from the position they'd fallen asleep in, while the other was tucked under the pillow beneath his head. His dark hair was tousled, strands splaying out every which way, and his breathing was serenely slow and steady.

Morning sunlight gilded the smooth skin of his chest as it poured in through the window, bathing the entire room in a golden hue.

   Arabella admired Alex as he slept, relishing in the warm-soft-toasty little bubble that was his bed and reminiscing on what had honestly been the perfect night.

   Well, that was until the blaring sound of a ringtone startled them both into full consciousness within a matter of seconds.

   Alex jolted up and rubbed at his bleary brown eyes, clearly trying to figure out what the hell was going on. When he saw Arabella sitting up beside him he seemed to relax a little, but the sound of his phone ringing somewhere on the floor soon had his eyes widening in realisation and horror.

   Arabella watched him roll out of bed in search of his phone, as if she hadn't just witnessed him experience the five stages of grief in the space of five seconds, and pulled the bedsheets up to cover her chest.

   "Fuck, fuck, fuck–" A string of curses left Alex's mouth as he dug through the pockets of the jeans that lay abandoned in the corner of the room. If Arabella wasn't so puzzled, she would've laughed. He didn't even seem to be aware of the fact that he was still stark naked.

   It wasn't until she heard Matt on the phone that she realised why Alex was in such a panic, and her breath hitched in her throat.

   Fuck. He's meant to be leaving today.

   "Al, please don't tell me you're still in bed." The drummer sounded muffled and far away, but his exasperation was still evident.

Alex was already pulling on a clean pair of boxers and last night's jeans when he answered, phone now on speaker on top of the bedside table. His voice was still thick with sleep.