the kink club • luke hemmings ✔️

23. the one where there's a flirty police officer.

chapter twenty-three:
the one where there's a flirty police officer.

"Excuse me," a loud knocking is heard, the person's face concealed by the darkness of the vehicle. Luke and I are quick to pull apart, though because I'm still on his lap, we struggle to scramble into a somewhat normal position.

"Is anyone in there?"

"Fuck," Luke hisses, bending his head down ever so slightly to look out. I sit awkwardly on the edge of his lap, stunned once he pulls me further back to ease the discomfort. "Don't move."

"Luke, what are we going to do?" I ask, all of the possible negative outcomes replaying like a mantra in my head. I can't help but lean forward, wanting to take a look at the person myself.

"What did I say? Don't move," Luke tells me firmly, pulling my body back towards him.

This time, I really do keep quiet, mind full of worry as I try to ignore how fast my heart is beating and how rapid my shallow breathing has become in such a short space of time.

The knocking continues; this time, much louder. In the distance, I see a parked car, not too far from the pick-up. It's a familiar trio of bold colours and my eyes widen significantly once I realise what it is.

"Good afternoon, officer," Luke's smooth tone is what snaps me out of my thoughts and, as I look back at him, I only just now notice how he's starting to gradually roll the window down.

His hand pats the side of my knee and I sheepishly cross one leg over the over. If there was ever a competition of who could look the most nonchalant, we'd definitely lose.

My body refuses to relax, especially when the man's eyes squint in our direction and it's obvious that he's silently judging us. I would be too, so I'm not surprised.

For a police officer, he looks quite young. Green eyes, pale face, curly brown hair. It looks like a wet mop that's been stuck to his head with superglue, yet I'm deprived from whispering that to Luke because I'm not sure if Kink-Club-Luke has the same humour as normal Luke.

Luke's eyebrows raise, gaze focused on the uniformed man on the other side. I tense up even more. "May we help you?" he asks, sounding irritated.

I have half the mind to nudge him and tell him to act more polite, but knowing me and my meverending lack of luck, that would do more bad than good.

"What's going on, here?" the man asks, completely disregarding the attitude already given to him in just a matter of seconds.

His accent is thick, thicker than Luke's, and I can't quite pinpoint what it is. It sends chills down my spine all the same.

"No, officer." Luke says.

The officer frowns. He doesn't say anything for a bit, instead opting to look at me.

Luke's grip, the one that's concealed by my own shadow, tightens ever so slightly around my leg. "Are you okay, miss?"

"Of course she's okay," Luke replies, hostile.

"I was asking her, boy, not you." the man grumbles. I quietly suck in a deep breath, feeling tremendously guilty for something way worse than what we actually did, something we haven't even done.

The way he says his words reminds me of that one terrifying moment when someone asks to speak to you; every single bad thing you've ever done races through your mind and you jump to conclusions faster than you try to get out of the situation.