Beneath the Boardwalk (Alex Turner) COMPLETE

12 {vodka glass}

I had a few sips of water.

"Well?" Turner asked. "Any response? At all."

"I'm just deciding whether you're insane or very insane," I said, oddly calm.

"Only the truly insane can decide that."

I finished off the water, and then paused. I tucked my hair behind my ears, picking at the dirt underneath my fingernails. I looked around at some of the books on the floor, contemplating what, I didn't know exactly.

"What are you thinking, Greene?"

I looked up to his eyes. "Who are you? I mean, why is getting this debt so important?"

"It just is."

I swallowed. His gaze makes my face redden a little bit. I don't know if I should avert my eyes or not. "Honestly. You said you usually are more professional, not asking your students for favours," something flashed through his eyes when I said student, but it passed quickly and I thought I might of imagined its existence, "so why now?"

"Please, don't ask that," Turner whispered, a little bit broken.

Did I ask something wrong? I'm taken aback by the sudden change in his voice. "Why not?"

"That's the one thing I'm asking for you not to delve further on," he said. "Please."

It's just in his tone of voice. I know desperation, and it was intimately woven into that plea, so I changed the subject.  "So you'd need the money all at once?"

"I would."

"How could you be sure that once I said yes to doing your favour, I'd fully commit to give you a loan?"

"I wasn't. But I needed to get the money right away anyway. And then I needed extra time to convince you, darling."

"How... when do you need the money by?"

"That's the funny thing," he said in his low Sheffield accent. "I kind of need it by... tomorrow night."

"I don't know why you need the money, but you're in deep shit aren't you?" Why did I just swear in front of my teacher? God, I need to filter my words. Looked like he didn't notice.

"You have no idea, Greene," he said deeply. I notice the marks closer on his face. I'm worried, but for him. He stared at me for a second longer, then stirred his own drink. I notice the few cuts on his jaw.

I spoke before I thought it through. "Have you treated those right?"

Turner raised an eyebrow.

I nodded over to the cuts. "The scratches."

"I don't know how to clean them up," Turner shrugged.

"They look like they're starting to get infected."

"Absolutely wonderful," he said underneath his breath.

"Do you mind?" I asked. He nodded, so I run my fingers across his chin, but he clenched his jaw slightly as if I wasn't supposed to notice. Maybe it was because it hurt. He watched my face, and it made me feel a bit uncomfortable, but I pretended not to know. I saw the scar tissue, unhealthy cleanup of lines. "You need to sterilize that."

"I said I didn't know how," he mumbled softly.

"Have any vodka?" 

"My apartment wouldn't be complete without it."

"I need a glass, a paper towel and a bottle."

Turner squinted his eyes. There was a flash of amusement that gleamed in them. "Alright, Greene. You a doctor?"

"No, but I do know how to sterilize. I work at a tattoo parlour, remember?"

"I wouldn't forget."

He stared at me for a second longer than need be. "The stuff's in my room," he added on, motioning down the hallway to his left. I followed him, feeling a bit of red on my cheeks. I don't know how I feel about him asking me to his room. Despite that it means nothing. It means nothing at all, Quinn. Get that through your head! I couldn't believe I'm letting my mind wander. Pull yourself together--

"This is what you wanted," Turner sat on the edge of the bed. I took the supplies and sit down beside him. The room's nice, I had to admit. Still as many books. No windows. Dark brown paint. Torn posters on the wall. Not something I'd expect a teacher to have, but then again, he's only a few years older than me. I cleared my throat at remembering that.

I poured a small amount of alcohol into the glass, twisted the bottle shut and set it on the ground beside me. Then had a quick few sips to calm my nerves. "I'm not perfect."

"Nobody is, darling," Turner said, his lips quirking. 

Then I dipped the paper towel, dampened it, and folded it. I licked my lips slightly and turned closer to him, holding my left hand softly on one side of his jaw, and the other on the towel over the cuts. His teeth seethe at the cool alcohol, but it's a good sign at least. That it's working.

I tilted my head a bit, and worked my hands over the cuts, making sure to cover all the raw skin. After this it should scab over and begin to heal. I'm... enjoying this. And I hate myself for that. The shape of his jaw. Feeling like I have some power over him.

"I don't want to pressure you into helping me out. I'm a bit of a mess," he whispered.

Tingles ran down my spine. I pictured how weird everything in my life was--from Matt's intense curiosity about my life, from how odd Jamie acted in the Boardwalk earlier, from the notes I'd been getting from my ex. Nothing was going right. "Well that's great, because I'm a mess as well."

"I didn't mean a bit, Greene. I'm in a huge mess," he admitted, and I tried to only focus on cleaning up the cuts.

"That's why you can pay me back later."

"You'll do it?" He allowed his calm and collected demeanour to slip for a brief moment. That concerned me.

This was the point of no return, and I was diving into it with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back. I had no idea what I was getting into, but nodded anyways.