Who the Fuck is Alex Turner?

The Part With The Lion King

The house welcomed us in with its warmth. Inhaling deeply, I detected that rich, delightful smell of brownies. I knew Anne, who’d undoubtedly cooked them, was out because the house was dark. We walked into the kitchen, turning on the lights as we got to the counter. The brownies were sitting there waiting for us enticingly on a tray.  I mentally thanked mum.

“Perfect,” I grinned, grabbing a plate for us both. “Do you like brownies? Wait, what am I saying, how could anyone not like brownies?” I scoffed.

“I reckon I could finish that whole tray off, to be honest.” Alex joked. We laughed.

“Do you have anywhere you need to be in the next…90 or so minutes?” I said, splatting a monstrously sized slab of brownie on each of our plates.

“Nah, don’t think so. Why? What have you got in your head Nic?” He said, curiously.

“Oh, you are going to enjoy this. It’s Lion King time.” I announced. Jumping over to the TV and setting my plate down on the coffee table, I found the old videotape lying next to the remotes amongst a pile of other things, namely books. Sliding it into the ancient video player, I turned on the TV and dived onto the couch, stretching out comfortably.

Alex followed me, easing into the spot next to mine. “The Lion King. You really do know how to have a good time, Nic.” He took his coat off, and thinking I hadn’t noticed, flicked his eyes over to my face, peering at me furtively.

“What can I say? I’m a real party animal.” I sighed, sarcastically.

Nibbling at my chunk of brownie -which was positively delicious- I felt Alex’s eyes on me again. The movie began to play, and we both sat, watching the comfortingly familiar opening scene. But again, I felt him eyeballing me and I spun around, catching his eyes as they darted away.

“Alex? What?”

“Your bruise. It’s bothering me.” He said frankly.

“Yeah, me too. I look ugly as hell,” I frowned.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. It reminds me of, y’know, what happened to you, and I don’t like that. You’re just so sweet and- and it doesn’t belong there.” I could see it really was bothering him, as he stared at it uncomfortably. “I feel like you’re so delicate, like, breakable.”

I reached up, stroking my cheek where the bruise was, wishing it wasn’t there. My face was still mildly swollen, and there was no doubt I looked terrible.

“And ugly? No. You’ll never be ugly. Not in any way, ever.” He added.

“Oh.” I was stunned into speechlessness.

With a bittersweet smile, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Well…actually, I’m not.” I didn’t want to let it all out in front of anyone, and especially not him. But I couldn’t help myself, it just poured out in a verbal outburst. “I just keep thinking, like, what if I didn’t get picked up that night? What if it was the last time I’d seen my family, my friends. What if I just became a news story, or a precautionary tale, or a tragic victim of whatever? You know? What if, what if, what if…I can’t get it out of my head.

“And I was so frightened, I was so scared. I was scared of you, I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared that I’d been so vulnerable, at how easily I’d been crushed. Just like that. I thought you were vile; I was convinced you were this…predator. And the worst thing was, I really liked you. That’s what scared me the most.”

He had that distant gaze, but this time, it was filled with sadness. I couldn’t even tell if he was listening anymore.

“Nicola…I…” It was his turn to be speechless now.