Arabella (ALEX TURNER)

8 - days end best

"Where'd you get that bruise on your face?" Jamie asked me. 

"Accidentally fell."

"It doesn't look like you--"

"I fell!" 

Jamie took a sip of his coffee. "Sorry."

I rubbed my temples. Things always went well with my clients, but now nothing had been going right. I wish we could start over, but time doesn't work like that. Time keeps going no matter how you choose to spend it. 

Nobody in the studio believed me. At least, everybody that was there. Alex was off in another room practicing. 

But he had stopped playing a while ago, so nobody knew why he wasn't back. 

"Somebody should go check up on Alex," Matt mumbled, almost as if he read my mind. 

Then he pressed a finger to his nose. 

Jamie and Nick did the same. I didn't understand what they were doing. "What's happening?"

"It's the nose game. Whoever touches their nose last has to do the thing in question." Matt shrugged. "Sorry, Ms. Moretti, but you lost."

"Sorry I'm unaware of the custom." I rolled my eyes, but laughed. "Fine."

I slowly walked down the hallway and my hand hesitated before knocking. Instead, I just swung the door open. 

Alex slammed the book he was holding closed. 

My brows lifted. 

He stiffened, putting the book away. It was an Italian textbook. 

"You're studying?" A grin crept up my face. I couldn't help it. 

"Trying to. Failing miserably."

My heart warmed. I couldn't believe he was still trying to learn it, even after yesterday. 

He avoided my eyes, some of his hair falling on his forehead. It looked like he took a lot of time to get it to look purposefully messy. "Sorry, I should be practicing with the band--"

"Wait." 

"What?"

"I've been thinking," I said, scratching my neck. "I've been a terrible PR agent, and made you hate me--it would be best if I brought someone else in to represent you from the agency."

Alex was quiet for a moment until he stood up. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, the wrists of his worn out jacket bunched up. He walked closer to me and I noticed how warmth rolled off of him. "You think I hate you?"

"Well, I've acted terribly unprofessional around you."

His eyes lit up. "I've taken that as a good thing."

"Huh?"

His voice was quiet as he leaned in slightly. "It shows you don't want to be professional around me. How could I not take that as a compliment?"

Didn't really think of it like that. How did he put a positive spin on it? My heart pounded. 

"And I don't see why I'd hate you," Alex said. "You worked your ass off the past week to help promote us, you teach children how to swim, you're honest to a fault--traits of somebody who cares too much. How could I hate somebody so caring?"

He was only a few inches away from me. I swallowed. "You see something in me that's not there."

"Not true. I wouldn't care about you if it was." Alex reached his hand out, hesitating just before he wrapped a piece of my hair around his finger. His face looked somber. "So tell me, how did you get that bruise on your face?"

My heart caught in my throat. His hand was so close to my skin. "I--accidentally fell."

His eyes met mine. "Really?"

"Promise."

"Mia."

My fingers skimmed the back of his hand and he stilled.

Then I slowly pulled his hand off my hair. There was electricity in the touch. "You called me honest--so trust me on this. I just fell."

He nodded without taking his eyes off mine. 

And then his gaze dipped to my lips. 

Every inch of my skin buzzed and I felt it hard to control my breath. Air was a foreign concept. Oh god. I didn't move, afraid that I'd hate myself if I leaned in, even if I wanted to--afraid I'd hate myself if I turned away. My fingers trailed off his hand. 

But Alex didn't do anything--he remembered what I told him. He wasn't going to do make a move. He was that good a person, and that made it even harder when he pulled away. "So you don't need to get somebody else to represent us. You're doing a great job already."

My chest lurched. It wasn't the kind you'd get if you stood in front of a cute stranger--it was more than that. There was something so genuine in his voice that it made me feel like he truly did care, and lately--it seemed like nobody else did. My chest lurched so hard it hurt.

"Thank you," I whispered. 

He made a small noise in the back of his throat, lips curving up. "You're blushing."

Was I? 

"What were you thinking about?"

I spun back to the door, feeling the blood drain from my face. "Nothing," I said. He watched my hand curl around the doorknob. My voice cracked. "Just--thank you, Alex."