Crime (h.s. au)

Chapter Ten

Ava

"I think I'm in deep shit," I tell Michael, taking a seat back at the bar. Harry had escorted me to my car, assuming I'd be ending the night at the same time. I had sat in my car, mumbling to myself how foolish I had been. My mind wasn't thinking and I just needed to get my mind off the case for the night. Too much had been circulating my brain and I accepted Harry's offer for a drink.

When I watched him drive away, I made it back into the bar and situated myself on my prior seat.

"Why, darling? Because you're working with a handsome detective?" he grins, my eyes rolling. It never ends with him when it comes to men. He has always encouraged me to go for a few, get into relationships, and have my own fun. It's not on my mind; not something I need. I can't be a girlfriend. There is one thing I know about myself and that is the fact I cannot be someone's significant other. My job is tasking, I'm not an emotional person, and I don't find myself some would say 'girlfriend material'.

"I shouldn't have brought him out for a drink. He might think I'm interested in something I'm not," I sigh, his hand placing another drink in front of me. He knows me too well.

"Darling, I don't think so. You gave no show of interest," he explains, but my mind flashes to one particular thing I did. I touched his arm; something way over the line. That crossed a barrier coworkers shouldn't and I'm upset I did so. Normally, I don't express any gestures or emotions when someone is explaining certain aspects of their life. I chalk it up to years of questioning people and gaining skills to ensure I don't let my emotions slip.

"I brushed his fucking arm, Michael," I groan, and he shrugs.

"Don't think too much about it. Ava, of all people, I don't think you're the most open. I'm the only one who knows deep secrets you lock in that brain and I make sure they stay here," he says, pointing to his forehead. "Besides, I'd like to assume your coworker would understand the situation. That's dangerous territory if he even tries to make a move. For you, as well."

I'm reminded once again that any sort of attraction I may have towards Harry needs to be pushed away immediately. We're coworkers and will be for what I assume will be a long time, which means there is no room for error.

"You're right. Thanks Michael," I say sincerely, and he smiles. I lean over and give him a small hug, taking the small gesture as a comforting one. We part ways and I walk out of the bar, making my way to my car. Once I'm in, I lock the doors and drive home.

I make the drive up the long driveway and part in the garage, locking the car and shutting the garage door behind me. When I get into my house, I lock the door to the garage and place my bag on the counter.

My mind starts to wander to the case again. There have been many red flags thrown in regard to Alexander Cross, but I've grown more interested in the coworker. If he had any connection to the murder, there is a question to motive for both. Alexander has a strong motive: his dislike towards Bernadette's friend. With the coworker, we need to figure it out in questioning. There isn't a distinct motive with him.

My feet carry me up the stairs and I walk into my bedroom, turning the light on. I remove my heels and walk to my closet, setting them on the shelf where they once were. Then I plan out my suit for tomorrow and lay it out, walking back into my room. Once I situate pajamas onto my body, I tie my hair up and walk to the bathroom.

Harry's green eyes and dimples flood my vision and I shake my head to ignore them. It's nearly impossible to do so, because in 12 hours I'll be looking at them. My hormones must be angry at me, demanding me to put them to use. My own stubbornness won't allow me to do so.