Because, Brett... [BxB]

Chapter 15: Straight As The Shining, Silver Stripper-Pole I Dance On

Standing before the desk, I wait silently for the man who sits behind it to finish up with whatever it is he's doing. The keys of his keyboard click beneath his pudgy fingers and every now and then he'll take a bite out of his meatball sub. When I finally do manage to catch his attention, he's mid-mouthful. A finger held up to tell me to wait a moment, he bangs his other fist against the desk a few times and forces the food down his throat.

"What can I help you with?" He asks and rubs his sleeve over his lips, intending to catch any debris of the sub.

I falter for a second, not sure what I should be admitting out here in the open. Should I just plainly tell him I've got a stalker? Or be more subtle about the whole ordeal?

Much to my relief, Seth steps in. "Could we speak to an officer?"

"I am an officer," the man retorts. His glare on Seth hardens and I cough to redirect the attention to myself, relief gone.

"Well, I have a. . . umm. . ." I can't help but hesitate, glancing around on the off chance that I'll find bright, azure eyes staring back at me, but I don't. The man's fingers tap against the desk, already bored, ". . . stalker problem. . . and I'm not sure what to do about it."

I can feel Seth's presence beside me, he's about to butt in again, so I stamp on his shoe and shoot him a glance that says, don't make things fucking worse. Admittedly, that works and he drifts over to the corner of the room, slumping in a chair to wait and flicking through a magazine from the pile on the table.

"I'm going to need you to file a report." The officer's eyes search over his desk lazily, hands fumbling around the remainders of his sandwich and eventually he pulls out a form. It has a grease stain in the corner. Handing both the paper and a pen over to me, he explains what I need to fill in, "this side is for your details, and the other side is for the person you're filing the restraining order against. This will be taken to court and if successful, they can be detained if they step within fifty feet of you intentionally."

My eyes scan over the paper in a flurry. So much information is required and half of it eludes me. I don't know his full name or what he looks like, let alone other, more intrusive details.

"I'm sorry, but I can't fill this out," I say to the man, handing the form back to him.

He seems almost confused. "But you want a restraining order?"

"Yes, but I don't know any of this information. I just feel him watching me." I try to explain but he shakes his head, disapproving.

"You mean you came here based on a bad feeling?" I nod slowly, now wishing I'd never set foot inside this building. "Sorry, but we can't help you unless this person has actually physically harmed you in any way. Have they?"

"No."

"I thought not."

With that, he collapses back into his chair, meatball sub back in hand and keeps munching as though that's his job and not helping people who are scared shitless by dark figures in the night. When I back away from the desk with a sullen frown, Seth's eyes dance over me and he drops his magazine in a hurry to follow me out the door as I leave.

"They can't do anything," I say when he's right beside me, "unless I know more about him, they can't do anything."

"I'll go in there and have a word with that lazy pig," he offers, nostrils flaring, "they could investigate."

"Not unless he's physically harmed me." I echo the man's words. They make sense, the police can't just look into every 'bad feeling' otherwise there'd be no time for the important things like thieving, rape or murder. It doesn't make being treated like a foolish child any easier to take though. And it certainly doesn't make that 'bad feeling' go away.

Although Seth looks put out by the answer, he covers it well, nodding his head.

When we reach the car, I ask him to drop me home. The past couple of days with him have been eventful enough and Alice has been bugging me to check in. It's a short drive and neither of us acknowledges the dead silence as I doze with my head resting against the window until he pulls up outside mine and Alice's small townhouse. I utter a short 'bye' as I clamber out of the vehicle, and eventually find myself tucked away in my own room, surrounded by my own things and with no fear of the outside world intruding.

+ + +

I must've managed to sleep the afternoon away — I suppose one advantage to being almost permanently tired (and not because of the fun things keeping me up at night) — because the next thing I know, the crash of the front door is resonating through the house and I can hear my sister's shouts.

"Brett? You home?" She calls up the stairs.

A disgruntled sigh escapes me but I push myself out of bed nevertheless. "Coming!" I return.

At the bottom of the staircase, she's busy slipping off her shoes and tugging her coat from her shoulders. A content smile graces her lips and it's one that's so obnoxiously happy, yet somehow secretive. She doesn't know that she's doing it and that's the most unnerving part.

"Who's died?" I ask, faux tension in my voice.

Turning to face me, she appears shocked, like she hadn't even realised I'd arrived. Her lips warp into a frown. "What're you talking about?"

"You're grinning like a crazy lady — must be because you've finally offed that bitch in your office." I deduct.

Lightly chuckling, she brushes it off. "Carol is just fine. But if you must know. . . I've met someone." Someone? As in a boy? "His name is Lewis."

Her scarf is tugged off and she hangs it clumsily over the bannister, her usual attentiveness on being organised compromised by her current lovey-dovey state. She then wanders off to the living room. I glance around the hallway. A briefcase left on the floor. Shoes scattered. Blazer shrugged off into a crumpled mess on the side. With a frown etched into my face, I follow after her. I may be younger and I may not be quite as straight as the shining, silver stripper-pole I dance on, but when push comes to shove, I have to step up and play 'protective brother'. Especially when a guy starts making my sister act like a complete fool.

Grabbing for the TV remote, she slumps into the sofa.

"When did you meet him?" I ask.

Dr Who comes on but she begins to flick channels, not recognising that I've even spoken. Exasperated, I snatch the remote, swiftly pressing 'off' until I have her undivided attention and raise a brow in question.

"A few nights ago," she concedes, "I was on my way home from work and he just asked me for my number out of the blue."

"You gave a complete stranger your number?" I gape. Though as soon as the words leave my mouth, I bite my tongue so I don't say anything else. I'm such a hypocrite.

"I know it's crazy, but you should've seen him. It was like I just couldn't resist."

Love at first sight, I think, how relatable. . . Love? I shake my head, thoughts drifting to Seth. Such words shouldn't exist yet between us. No matter how many times I might think about it in my head. No matter how many times I wonder as we lie naked in bed that if I just spoke those few words, would I hear them back?

They just shouldn't exist yet.

"When am I going to get to meet your boyfriend anyway?" Alice pries. "I think it's been long enough for you to bring him home. Don't you?"

A.N. Spent like a day travelling home and now I've got to go back to school (checks time and notes it's almost 2AM) today. But my plan of action goes as follows: I'm basically going to write like my life depends on it and come back and edit like a beast after all is said and done! Screw schoolwork, am I right?! *hand hangs in air waiting for a high five that never comes*