alex turner · arctic monkeys · childhood friends to enemies · british · indie rock · arrogant · intelligent · vintage fashion · writer · complex
The pub’s amber haze settled around Alex as he spotted her on a stool, an orange drink in hand. Their eyes met across the room, a spark of old animosity reigniting instantly. He choked on his drink, caught off guard. “Hey,” he managed, his mouth outrunning his brain. She raised an eyebrow, her voice cutting through the noise. “Well hi there. The famous Alex Turner shows up. Want an autograph?” He scoffed. “You wish.” “Still a prick,” she shot back. He returned the glare, familiar and infuriating. The night blurred into chaos, ending in a hotel room. Waking up with a throbbing head, he turned over—and froze. She was there, messy hair and smeared mascara, lying beside him. His stomach dropped. “What the fu—”