Chapter 2
I should be guilty. I should punish myself for being so unfaithful to Taylor. When I have her name tattooed on my forearm, I couldn't possibly go around kissing teenagers.
"Well, she was the who initiated the kiss," my inner voice said.
Pushing her away or rejecting the kiss would have broken her heart terribly. I wouldn't want her to be sad and embarrassed about it."It was just a kiss," I told myself firmly. She just wanted a souvenir to cherish. Teenagers are wild.
Besides, I would be lying if I said I didn't like the kiss. It was fucking perfect; that's why I responded. And now I cannot get it out of my head. It had been two weeks full of concerts and interviews, but she haunts me in my dreams. She is the star player in all those fantasies. Sometimes, wearing nothing but a white negligee complementing her charcoal eyes and hair.
"Mr Turner," she would say, "I am glad you're here."
"Alex!" I snapped out of my daydream.
"Are you even listening to me?" Taylor asked.
I nodded."Yes, love."
"So, I was saying I can't visit you in Europe, you know I have such a tight schedule, but I will make sure I visit you in London. Is that okay?"
"As long as you aren't stressed out or tired, Tay."
She smiled at me, got up and sat on my lap. I wrapped my arms around her waist. "I love you so much, Alex."
Usually, I would have said, 'I love you more', but it felt ingenuine these past few months. Taylor and I had so much fun as a couple, and I was genuinely infatuated to her, but I had begun losing interest in her since I started writing the album. Love was a strong word. I had said this word to her about two years ago when I was drunk and thought she was the one.
I thought she was the one a couple of months ago. But I cannot remember where it all went downhill. My feelings for her were real and profound, at one point. One moment I couldn't get enough of her and cannot stay away from her the next I felt it was too much for me and I prefer my solitude.
I thought she was the love of my life. Well, I think about all of them the same. I fall in love with them, maintain that love for a couple of years, and then I realised that I am falling out of love and, tragically, I cannot make it last till the end of my life.
Love was perplexing - it was harder to fall in love but a lot easier to run out of it. I always had the notion that lucky are the people who fall in love and make it last for a lifetime.
An image of the raven-haired girl forms in my mind and I swallow hard. I would probably never see her again - she might be off to college somewhere in America or France. She strikes me as the type of person who loves Paris. And maybe when I do see her again, she has a boyfriend or husband beside her. Someone who just wasn't able to resist her elegance and beauty. A fancy lad - a lawyer or perhaps an investment banker of some kind.
Not me.
Not me.
I wasn't the boyfriend material she would like. She was younger; there was no doubt she had some expectations from her lovers - and no way could I meet the standards.
-----
The next time I saw her, she was at her father's office, working a part-time job. She wore a bodycon black dress that hugged her curves precisely.
And the first thing she said to me was, "I didn't know you had a girlfriend, Mr Turner."Gosh, I loved it when she addressed me as Mr Turner. "I wouldn't have done that had I knew. I am sorry," she sounded genuine. At least she wasn't a homewrecker. Well, there wasn't any home to wreck. I wished I could tell her this.
"Well, it's alright, Zoey. It was just a kiss." I added nothing to make the matter worse. Any good, committed man would have said, make sure it never happens again, or I love my girlfriend; I am not that kind of a guy who goes around kissing another woman. But then, I did not want to embarrass her; she looked so innocent and fragile with her beautiful eyes.
She cleared her throat. "I am not that kind of girl who is into guys who are in a relationship..."
I broke her off. "I understand. You don't have to be embarrassed or guilty, love." I smiled. The 'love' kind of slipped out.
She seemed at little ease and blushed. "I just wanted Alex Turner to be my first kiss, not some college boy."
You are far too good for a first kisser. The statement turned me on. I am pretty sure I never had the honour of being any girl's first anything. Although I may have many, many young fans who might still be...... but, well, they are too young for me, and I am not a paedophile. And this feeling of honour didn't cross my mind until this very fucking moment.
The image of this Goddess dresses in white, sprawled on my bed, calling my name as she pleasures herself made my dick twitch.
She bites her lip. "Well, I should get back to work then, Mr Turner. See you around."
* * *
Zoey
I facepalmed myself. You stupid, homewrecker.
Of course, I knew he had a girlfriend. I saw them at some party that the label had thrown and my dad asked me to come along a few weeks ago. There he was, with her, bored and restless. He didn't even glance at her properly, just sipped his drink and talked to people.
They obviously had fallen out of love. That was clear from his side. I wasn't so sure about her. I had a gift of reading people.
I knew the look he had given me in the office and the parking lot. The look he gave me was of longing and lust. The eyes held a promise that he wanted to explore my body. The look that said he would do dirty things to it. The same look he gave me a moment ago.
I wasn't lying; he was my first kiss. The first time in my life - I had thought I should be bold because I knew he needed some type of encouragement. The twenty-minute drive had cleared my head, and I did not regret it.
Now, I was waiting for some action on his part. But I was uncertain - maybe his girlfriend and he had fixed things. He must have felt guilty about our kiss and told her. I probably broke them up. Perhaps I brought out some sparks which were still there between them. Maybe I am a selfish bitch who couldn't control her desire.
Maybe he thought of me like some silly fangirl. Scratch that, he thought I was some troubled fan of his.
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