Alex Turner Imagines 2024

Part 7

Alexander's POV:

The car slowed to a halt in front of the Alma, the engine's hum fading as the driver navigated into the valet loop. He made his exit to open the door for Margeaux, and I caught a glimpse of Louise slipping out from the driver's side. Her darkened glance back confirmed what I already knew—she was ahead for this round, and stepping into control. The soft click of the car door closing behind them left me with a fleeting sense of restlessness, a nagging feeling urging me to follow. Alone in the back seat felt wrong. Without hesitation, I was out of the car, catching up to the driver, intercepting Margeaux's suitcase. He nodded, passing it off as he stooped slightly. Wordlessly, he turned on his heel while reaching to relieve the indent of a cigarette box from his pocket.

Stepping into the lobby, strains of uninspired bossa nova sung in reverb in the open air and marble floors. The light was absurdly corporate, and the decor was terribly gray-scale along with the art that lacked any real dimension. Margeaux's voice, pocketed in the hum of reverberation, took the forefront as the acoustics did not affect speech. Soft yet assured as she greeted the hotel attendant. I slowed my pace, standing paces behind them, just watching. Her warm smile made the exchange seem effortless, while Louise stood beside her, a certain cool and nonchalant emanating off of her. Their subtle intimacy circled around before me—Louise leaning into Margeaux, their pinkies intertwining, creating a private world between them. It was the kind of interaction that would make you smile at yourself, how you reveled in observing their warmth. Every so often, our eyes would meet—Margeaux, visibly flustered, juggling two conversations: one spoken with the kiosk attendant, the other unspoken but charged with tension between her and Louise. There was a quiet modesty about her that tugged at something deep within me, as if she held secrets she longed to spill but kept locked away for now. That restraint, though, only made me crave more—the instant gratification I'd learned to curb over the years now rising again, harder to ignore. Her subtle, quiet nature had a way of stirring something low in my stomach, an ache wrapped in curiosity. Then, she'd glance back, doe-eyed and vulnerable, with a depth that made me want to unravel every layer of her thoughts. Her mere presence radiated a safety I hadn't expected, a profound sense of serendipity that lingered in the air whenever she was around. My fascination with her quickly became a topic of shared reflection with Louise.

With Margeaux's arrival, something shifted between Louise and me. What had started as a casual exploration, a policy of group-play, suddenly carried more weight. Our dynamic had always thrived in its fluidity, but now, Margeaux was more than a fleeting addition to our lives. She stirred conversations we hadn't yet fully had—about intimacy, connection, and what it might mean to invite someone deeper into what we had already built. I think we both reflected on Margeaux's wariness and realized that we also needed the time to get to know her and invest for a while. Her presence didn't feel temporary, like those that had come before. Instead, she evoked a quiet curiosity, as if we were carefully navigating uncharted territory. Louise, always the more confident of the two of us, seemed to approach this change with ease, but I sensed her hesitation too—moments where her usual assertiveness softened. It was as if we were both questioning the foundation of what we had built together. Were we ready to share more than just space with someone else? Margeaux's subtle influence—her quiet grace and thoughtful manner—made it hard not to wonder if this was something deeper. Our nights together felt electric, an intoxicating combination of the new and the familiar, but soon, quieter moments started to surface. Conversations that began with laughter stretched into the late hours, where vulnerability flickered in ways we'd forgotten. There was a lack of dissonance or pressure when the three of us sat together. I think what surprised me the most was how much I wanted this to work—not just for Louise or for Margeaux, but for myself. I think it's been a long time since I've allowed myself to want anything purely for myself, my hands on the reins. I felt a sense of freedom in being open to the possibility of something new. I wanted to explore this and see where it would take me. I guess I felt I was taking a leap of refreshing faith. I wanted to take the risk and see what was out there. I was ready to embrace the chance to make something happen. As we approached the elevators, Louise reached for Margeaux's hand, interlocking their ring-adorned pinky fingers. The simplicity of the gesture struck me, the way Louise imbued purpose into every move. It felt like a scene out of a surrealist film—the type of detail that only a certain director would capture. Watching them, something warm stirred within me, an urge to be caught in the middle of their dynamic. As if reading my mind, Louise looked back and silently extended her hand, her pinky curling, waiting for mine. I hesitated for only a heartbeat before reaching out to return it. Margeaux glanced over, her smile softening.The elevator doors slid open, revealing the dim hallway beyond. We stood still, the air thick with tension. Louise moved first, her body pressed against the wall, eyes lifting to meet mine. There was no hesitance in her gaze, just steady control, but this time it felt personal, an invitation to cross a line we'd danced around the entire day.