"Styles, meet FBI Agent Caroline Forbes. She will be on your case and with you every day until she gathers more evidence and can turn you in, or you confess," the Sheriff informs me as I glance from him back to her, and she gives me a polite smile...
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"And he's been like that since?" Ryan inquires, lifting up a cute decorative pillow and looking at it as I push the Target cart already filled with numerous white pillows.
I nod, sighing, "Yeah. He's been very on edge around me since the school case. He's had two counseling sessions since. You think he'd be better by now."
Ryan places the pillow back down and catches up to me, poking at my sides with a knowing grin.
"I still think I'm right..." He insists, his sentence trailing off in a singing voice.
"And I still disagree.." I reply the same way, smiling back sarcastically.
His hands suddenly stop the cart I'm pushing, forcing me to look up at him.
"What?"
Ryan's arms cross as he balances his weight on one side of his body. "Babe, he got the boner because he got all whipped inside from your badass-ness. Since you noticed it, he's embarrassed, therefore thinking he should act like a dick or not talk much. In this case, it's both."
He won't let this go, we've been arguing about it since it happened, which is a really weird argument to be having.
"I... I only noticed because that psycho student pointed it out when I had him pinned down," I explain, sounding way less confident than I wanted.
He scoffs, "Caroline please, I saw that risen glory from like twenty feet away from you guys as we came to get the suspect. He couldn't cover it up even if he tried. Not that he should even cover it, that thing was—"
"Okay! We can stop talking about it." My ears can't take anymore of the subject. Speaking of this in the middle of a Target is not ideal.
"Can I just ask, are you sure he's straight?"
I laugh a little as he begins to pout, and I wrap my arms around his arm and squeeze him tight when he takes over pushing the cart.
"He's a suspect for a case of killing women for pleasure, and I've heard my fair share of derogatory sexual remarks in the past couple of weeks. Plus as your best friend, I also have the position to tell you he's not your type."
"You make spending time with him sound like hell," he remarks, running his hands through his blonde curls. "How bad can he be?"
"Well," I pause, exhaling. "He's got his good moments. His cooking is actually seriously good. He's made me dinner a few times, and it's honestly better than I'll ever admit to him. Oh, and he's cleaner than you'd think, though he won't let me see his room, so who knows how gross it might be. His sense of humor, as nasty as it is, can be pretty funny too. I guess I exaggerate a little sometimes."
