Beneath the Boardwalk (Alex Turner) COMPLETE

24 {ghost town}

Turner began to laugh. It was a beautiful choking sound, like the cracks in a violin song. He ran his hands through his locks, picking the lamp flickering on the floor and setting it on the desk. The sound put pains in my chest. 

"What's so funny?"

"I can't believe I let you tattoo me. I can't believe I shared what I felt to you. I can't believe I was going to sleep with you," he said. His skin was pale and flushed. "You'd been telling Matthew about me? Matthew, my fucking boss--you've been spying on me in my own domain? That's low. Not only did I fail at keeping secrets from him, I let his spy take it from me. Willingly."

"Sure I know him, but I'm not his spy! I swear I had no--"

"Aw, stop with the excuses." Turner started to clean up the papers he had pushed on the floor. "Either way, he even has your phone number. That's enough proof you're affiliated with the guy that's kept Miles away from me for two bloody years."

"The phone number doesn't mean anything!"

"Has he ever texted you? Ever called you?"

I swallowed tentatively. "He only called me once when we were in your apartment--"

"Oh, come ON," he growled, nearing tearing the sheets in his hand. Suddenly he seemed darker than ever before, darker than the vast midnight sky. No stars in sight. No promise of a sunrise. "Don't tell me you were talking to the man who ruined my life in my own apartment--don't tell me I wanted to kiss the girl that had a phone conversation with him right in front of my very eyes. You said he was a friend. You were sharing my secrets to my boss even then?"

"I didn't know anything! He was the first friend I'd made in University. It seemed harmless! I talk about all my other teachers. It's just something students do. You have to believe me, I had no idea who he was or I wouldn't have said anything."

"You talk about all your," Alex paused, "other teachers?"

"I--"

"I can't believe you've still labelled me along with your other teachers. Even when I stupidly opened up to you, even after you were going to fuck me on that desk, I'm nothing but a job description."

"That's not what I meant. You're twisting my words."

"We twist words every single day, Ms. Greene," he spat. The formality hit me like a hundred tons of brick. He was acting if I was just another student, and I realized how much it hurt to be considered no more than your role. "We twist them in every single sentence we conjure up. Language is nothing but twisted words--because words don't have power on their own. So when you talk about all your other teachers, you're still saying in some way that you thought I wasn't special enough to be treated differently than them."

My head was so light I was afraid it would lift off. I gritted my teeth as if it might help clear my marbled gaze. The tone of desperation I'd heard in his voice was now in mine. "I didn't know any better and I'm sorry. Unlike you, I don't expect the people I trust in my life to end up being the ones that cause me pain. When I met Matthew, he was no different than any other student. I made the mistake of sharing what I feel, because you were right! I wear my heart on my sleeve. Am I not transparent enough? Why can't you see I didn't mean to do this, Alex?"

"Dr. Turner, to you," he murmured, stuffing all of his papers in his bag. 

It was a punch to the gut. 

"Please," I whispered. "I'd never have shared anything if I knew Matthew was your boss."

Turner gave me a glance as he tossed his bag over his shoulder. It was sad, chaotic and desolate, like an abandoned oil painting, chipping away, hidden to the public eye. He gave me a weak smile. "You couldn't deduce that from the facts," he mumbled, showing faint amusement. There was a sad pride in it--I'd finally learned something from him. "Now that's one hell of an argument, Greene."

It was my turn to watch his heels clack all the way to the auditorium doors. But instead of walking out like I usually do, he turned back to me for a second. His voice was as vapid as it was in lecture. "The cheque to pay you back for your loan is in the top left drawer, and next class, do keep matters strictly professional. We no longer have any business with each other. Have a good night."

I got the message loud and clear--it was his way of saying that anything that's happened between us was now over.

I'd never seen the auditorium alone. Without him inside, it was abandoned like the air above a ghost town. The only spirits were the ones he kept in the drawers of his cold desk, and I was going to down them and forget the pains in my chest until I realized it would just be another thing I've taken from him that wasn't mine.