Beneath the Boardwalk (Alex Turner) COMPLETE

22 {sexual frustration}

"Interesting," Alex mumbled. "Why send you notes? Not text?"

Now that he had shared something personal, I could reciprocate a little. Words were hard to be forced out, however. "I ran away. From him."

"Why?"

"When I first met him," I began, my elbows digging into the cedar desk, "he was nice. We'd do regular things. See movies. Go to the mall. Have fun at concerts. Nicholas was plain, a little immature, but cute. The relationship was solid."

Alex moved his jaw. "Are you trying to make me jealous, Greene?" 

"Not my intention, but if it does, so be it," I smiled, licking my lips. "Anyways, things started to change. He stopped wanting to do those things, or at least stopped pretending. Started to show his true colours. He'd turn up at my house in the middle of the night, waiting outside the door, without knocking. He once disappeared for two weeks and came back, pretending as if nothing happened. I broke it off but he acted as if I hadn't." I lowered the volume of my voice, picturing Nicholas in my head. "And he'd follow me, sometimes. He got really good at it. If I ever caught him, he'd pretend as if he just ran into me. It got bad one night."

Alex had his brows together, lifted up, listening intently. 

"He broke into my house while I was sleeping. Luckily, there was a storm, so I woke up, but he--was at the foot of my bed. Wouldn't leave. I called the cops, but I still lived alone and they couldn't send anybody to watch me. I didn't feel safe so I moved away, here. Now there's no reason for him to know who you are, however, and it's just speculation based on his initial--but that's who I think has written those notes."

"Is that all you know?" 

"Swear on my heart."

"Show me if you get any more notes, or if you see him. I don't want him near you." Alex stood up from his chair. "We've invested too much information with each other. And frankly, I won't let you get hurt like I let Miles. Are we in agreement," he said, tilting his head, "Quinn?"

"We're in agreement," I said, liking the way my name sounded on his tongue. I'm glad we actually understood each other. I stood up. "I'll see you next class, then."

I reached for my folded clothes but Alex stopped me, putting his hand over mine. His palm was warm. The warmth didn't reach his eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What?"

"You're going to leave right away like you always do?" Alex gritted his teeth, leaning forward, tightening his grip on my hand. His muscles moved underneath the shirt. "After all we just told each other, you're going to hit me with a 'see you in class'? Am I still just some bloody teacher to you?"

"You are my teacher."

"That's just the job description! Don't act as if you believe I'm only that, darling," he growled, leaning forward on the desk. I could see the skin on his shoulders through the open collar. "The way you look at me in those seats aren't the way you look at a job description. The thoughts of you that keep me up at night could never be apart of a job description. The way I felt when my lips were on your neck were certainly not apart of a fucking job description."

"I know that!" My chest was heaving even though I hadn't done a stitch of exercise. The way he stared could scald my skin. "I know I'm not supposed to feel this way. I know."

"I don't understand. You invest your money, time and emotion into me. But why don't you want to get close? Do you have any idea how many times I've thought about you actually coming closer to me?" Alex's gaze dipped over my collarbone, my bra, and his chest rose quicker. "You stay at a distance. No less than three feet. I've counted. Are you scared of me?"

"No! I--" My mouth was dry. Parched, as if I hadn't had water in days. "I'm not scared of you. I'm scared that..."

Alex flipped my hand, moving his thumb on my wrist. "Like all people on this earth that you'll ever meet, I'm no more than what you make out of me," he said. "If it's just a job description, so be it. Sit in those seats like you usually do and lust after me, pretending that you don't. I won't be biased. You'll pass the course with a reasonable grade, I assure you."

"Stop," I said, grabbing his wrist. I felt his throbbing pulse on my palm. "I said I'm not scared of you. I'm scared because I don't know what the hell I've been thinking--I'm scared of the effect you have on me. I don't think when I'm around you. That's why I've been so impulsive and invested so much! I never do that. I stick to the facts and--"

"--and you never think about the argument," Alex snarled, scorn dripping from his voice. It was as bitter as the dark roast of his coffee eyes. "I'm sick of you arguing that this is wrong, when you could easily argue that this feels so damn right."

He made my blood boil. I felt it pulsing under the skin, hot as the inside of the sun. It made me so mad because it had a ring of truth to it. I wanted him just as bad as he wanted me, and here I was keeping my distance from him. I knew it every time I walked out of those doors and he'd watch me with that pen twirling in his teeth. The man in front of me was Alex, not a job description. 

Actions spoke louder than words, so I grabbed the white collar of his shirt, pulled him closer, and ground my mouth against his.