Write a Review

Make A Wish That Weighs A Ton

Chapter 3


Do you have that ex or a crush, or maybe some random attractive guy who once made a rude comment about one of your physical attributes that you're insecure? Well, I did. At that point of time, I wanted to punch him and then crawl up in a hole and cry. Now, I wanted to hug him and say 'thank you.' Yes, he was fucking rude. But he made me realised how unhealthy I was. Eating a tub of ice cream each day, binging on junk food like as if it was some drug - I was every fitness guru's nightmare.

Well, I wasn't obese but nowhere healthy either. Just 14 pound more than my required body mass. And it all changed after that comment. I woke up one day when I was a 15 year old, started playing the song called Arabella on my headphones and started doing exercise on the old treadmill.

I felt music-fueled energy in me, and I just went on and on.

Now, I was still four pounds overweight, and not given up junk food, but I was better. More importantly, I felt better. I had a balance in my life - which I thought was impossible to achieve. Alex Turner was a part of the reason for that change.

No, he wasn't the guy who called me chubby and told me to lose weight. But it was his voice that sort of became my driving force. It was probably the music itself. And that's what made me a fan of his and Arctic Monkeys. As cliche as it might sound, they saved me from getting depressed and becoming obese. That I might soon have become had their music not been my source of motivation. It had made me move my body to unleash the psych energy that kept building in my mind.

I should write this to him and give it to Dad. It might make the kiss more justifiable in some way.

'Who are you kidding?' A nasty voice spoke inside my brain. 'It will never be justifiable.'


It's been a month since the kiss, and I know Arctic Monkeys has been touring around all over Europe and my Dad controlling things from here and sometimes flying by to check things personally.

"Zoey," my Dad's voice called out. I was doing some paperwork for him when I looked up at him.

He had dark circles underneath his eyes from all the work he had been doing lately, making sure everything was fine. It scared me that he would die with all the extra work he has been doing, and due to the lack of sleep and cholesterol. It was part of the reason why I started working for him - to be near him so that I can keep an eye on him. But he was stubborn. Said no to medication and even alternatives like diet and exercise, but I still forced him to drink some herbal tea.

"Yes, Dad."

"Pack your bags. We are going to Madrid. I have to go there and personally make sure everything is infallible. Can't screw this up. I just spoke to a lot of people, and we have to go," he announced.

"What about Stacy?" Knowing very well that his original assistant was eight months pregnant and could barely even walk, let alone travel to Madrid from Los Angeles. Her condition was the main reason why I stepped in, but she still did most of the work and trained me to fill in for her when she officially leaves for the maternity leave.

"Stacy can't travel, you know that. I need you to organise things. You have to stay there for a while, on behalf of me. Be in touch with Stacy and I; we will help you with basically everything. I will be back in two days or so, but you will be travelling with the band for a week. As much as the Monkeys are my favourite clients, I still have lots of others to work on."



"So I spoke to the guy, he finally agreed to make more of that merchandise. Meanwhile, there are new designs for Tshirts and Mugs. Here are some prototypes. The best of quality for the fans." Paul explained, "We could make this as some limited edition merch or maybe a bit more permanent."

Nick examined the mug he had been holding, "I like this. It's like an absolute personification of Arctic Monkeys in a cup, innit?"

I agreed, eyeing the cup. The design contained bits and pieces of significant songs from all our albums, with our names, important dates - the content went well with the colour and the rest of the representation. It would look much better on a hoodie or a Tshirt, perhaps.

"My daughter made that one," Paul informed us and shrugged. "I am guessing you would like more of that?"

"Yes," I said, before anyone else. This new piece of information about Little Zoey was interesting. So she was an artist, too. If it had been the other lousy mug, I might have called him out on nepotism, so that I could keep little missy and her perfect ass out of my way. But I was impressed by her artwork, too - her face and body occupying the first place.

Few days pass by, and I see her backstage, her back facing me. I immediately recognise her due to her unmissable back-profile.

I could have just ignored her and go about my business. I should have walked straight to the dressing room to our makeup artist, but instead, I walked towards her.

She was wearing a microphone headset and typing something on her iPad.

"Hey there," I said. "Didn't know you will be joining us on tour. Is it your first day here?"

"It's my third day here," she sounded disappointed as if I failed to notice her before, but she wasn't someone I could ignore so easily. That was the problem."I am here for the rest of the week. Filling in behalf of Dad's secretary."

I loved how seriously she was taking all this. My assumptions of her being a trust-fund brat were diminishing. She certainly was talented and was willing to work hard to prove herself.

"I liked the mug you made." I admitted, "You're a fine artist, Zo."

Zo. It came out before I could even stop it.

She blushed, and I thought how in the world could someone possess innocence of a toddler and at the same time beauty and grace of a goddess.

"I am glad that you liked it, Mr Turner."

"Alex." Because every time you called me 'sir' or 'Mr Turner', I think of doing dirty things to you.

"Okay, Alex. See you around." She goes back typing something on her Ipad.

For a moment, I was disappointed by the extreme casual adieu, but I had to remind myself that she was busy and that I wasn't supposed to be all lover-boy on her.

I had a strong urge to drag her to a closet or some storeroom, and eat her pussy, give her multiple orgasms. See her breathless, moaning my name. Kissing her amazing lips, having them wrapped around my...

'Control yourself, you pervert.' Fuck, my cock stirred in my pants.

Being clicked sporting an erection on stage was the last thing on mind. I shouldn't think about Zoey at all. Forget the fact she is probably just 20 feet away from me.

Was it going be hard? Definitely.


When the concert was done, I ran to the dressing room for a cold shower. The intense look of longing on Zoey's face when she watched me singing just for a couple of minutes got me (and my little buddy) worked up.

Can't I just have her and get her out of my system? Forget about Taylor for a night or so, then secretly confess it to her in a couple of months. Lie that I was drunk and stupid. She will forgive me. I am never the type to cheat in a relationship, but it is always first for something.

Continue Reading

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.