Denying Dylan | ✔️

(13) "Don't be childish,"

"Phoenix?!" I stare at the police officer in disbelief. Life is so weird sometimes. The stranger that I met on the beach in New Zealand watches me with a curious stare for a moment and then his brows raise with recognition.

"Bea, right?"

"Yeah," I sniffle when my nose starts to run again. I'm not a blubbering mess anymore but I doubt I look put together either. "You're a cop?"

He leans a hand on the roof of the Rover and nods. Damn he doesn't look bad in a uniform. The short sleeve shirt clings to his biceps and chest. "Yep. What's your stance? Hate us? Love us? Indifferent unless confronted?"

I watch him retrieve a breathalyser from his belt and wince. But then I remember that I'm sober. It might look like I'm a sewer rat who drowns herself in litres of straight gin before she goes to the salon and cries to the stylist. But I don't drink all that often. I just happen to go too far when I do. Hence New Year's Eve. Hence the mess that I am right now.

"Um I'm selective," I tell him as he holds the his little device in front of my face and gestures for me to continue talking. "Don't abuse your power and there won't be an issue."

He smiles as he reads whatever has come up on his screen. "All clear," he slips the machine back into his belt. "I respect that stance. I have to agree. Can't stand dirty cops."

"If you're going to arrest me, can we get on with it," as I'm mid sentence, an idea comes to mind. "Yes! You're a cop. Please put me in the witness protection programme. My dad is going to legit murder me when he sees the damage that I've done to his car. I was looking to start over again anyway. This is perfect!"

Phoenix starts to laugh. "I honestly can't tell if you're joking or not."

"Not. I'm excited. Can we do that? I'd get a new name and location. It'd all be legal and I wouldn't have to stress about the financial aspect of it. Do I get to put in a preference? I wouldn't mind Bali."

His face falls and he leans into the window a little closer. Just because of how sullen the atmosphere became, I twist in my seat so that I can see if we're in a super inconvenient spot and at the same time, avoid his eye contact. His cruiser lights are on and the traffic is still moving with ease.

"Bea, if you're really in danger, we can go to the station and file a statement. We can put things in place to ensure you're safe. But I can't just sign you up for the witness protection. It's a process."

"I'm not in that much danger," I admit with mild disappointment. I leave out the fact that I might cop another slap across the cheek. But I don't think that I'll end up dead. Kevin has enough money to fix his car. Not that he drives it much. It's more of a relic to show how much cash he has.

"Also might be worth mentioning that there's no damage to your car," he adds. "Your tow bar left a good dent in my door though."

I wince. "I'm sorry. I mean, I'm relieved that this car is fine. But, like, am I under arrest? Can I just write a cheque for the damage?"

"Don't stress. It's insured. The station will cover its repair."

"That's it then?" I put my hands on the door frame and stare at him with hope. "You're not going to charge me with reckless driving or whatever?"

He looks out at the road and tilts his head from side to side while he thinks. "How about we go and get a drink. You can tell me what's going on and I'll decide if it's enough of a reason to let you off with a warning."

I narrow my stare. "Seems like abuse of power to me, sir."

"I can write you up if you'd prefer?"