You

They’ve met under rather unusual circumstances. Graham still remembers those powerful hands gripping his body. The thrilling sensation of cold metal against his own skin. It felt like adrenaline is coursing through his entire body, and his fast pulse is too much for him to handle. And "he" is so close that Graham could feel hot breath against his neck. Precious lips don’t say the anticipated "I want you, Graham," but rather: "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to contact an attorney. If you cannot afford one, a government attorney will represent you." “Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?” “Understood. Hey, take it easy, Mr. Sexy Cop. Don’t scratch my tender skin.” Graham unsuccessfully tries to break free from this grip and to blow a kiss. The cop roughly grabs him by the scruff of the neck and shoves him onto the back seat of the car. They drive in silence, and it doesn't surprise Graham at all. What can you talk about with a scumbag like him who's excited about a routine arrest? In his defense, Graham would have suggested just looking at this young policeman. His perfect body can be easily seen through his shirt and pants, wrapped around his legs, and his messy hair after a short chase. His blue eyes... Deep like the ocean itself. Graham stares into them in the center rearview mirror the entire ride and feels like he's drowning. That look pulls him into the deep maelstrom with no chance of escaping. He is ready to commit a couple more crimes to feel again how strong hands squeeze him and press against the hood of the car. “Officer, can you just let me go? I swear, I didn’t break into that house. It was abandoned for God knows how long.” To be honest, I did. It's this junkie named Mike who owes me a lot of cash. I came to him just to get something valuable. I'm not a trust fund baby. I need food and a place to sleep too. “Do you know who squatters are?” Graham still kept talking. “Stop babbling. Save it for later for the trial.” “Your entire fucking system is rotten to the core. You'd be better off catching real criminals rather than poor students who are trying hard to get food and pay their bills,“ he says, trying to guilt-trip the officer and make him listen. “You are not a student.” So shrewd. “But I could’ve been one if it wasn’t for this rotten system!” “I won’t be affected by your bullshit, but making a sad face in front of a jury might work.” “Why would it work on them but not you?” “Because I arrest about ten other people like you in a day.” Oh, no, dear. I’m gonna be your one and only. “And all of them are whining about how life is unfair,” he continues. “Next time, try to think about something more interesting.” Graham is ready to talk any kind of crap, just to keep listening to that captivating voice. He wonders if the cop knows how sexy he is. He probably does. He can easily tell by the confident look in his eyes. They stop at a traffic light. It’s still red, and Graham has fifteen seconds to admire the cop's back. But the officer suddenly turns around with a slight smile on his face. Damn. Did he notice how I was looking at him? It's getting too hot in the car. When will we finally get to the station? They exit the car, and Graham sighs with relief. The trip posed a huge challenge for him. It's difficult to be in a small space with this cop and keep his temper under control. “Officer White,” someone shouts at him and nods his head in greeting. “Take him to the interrogation room.” The cop grabs Graham by the shoulder and forcefully drags him into the building. “Seriously, White, slow down. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not running away. Otherwise, I'll give this place a one-star review on Tripadvisor: Not recommended!” He only grins in response. “You must be crazy enough to keep cracking stupid jokes even now.” Graham is upset and remains silent. The officer doesn’t realize how Graham is desperate for attention, which is why he acts like a needy child. He walks slowly, practically dragging his legs, which makes White angrier. Graham, on the other hand, is eager to prolong these moments and enjoy the heated contact in every way he can. When the doors to the interrogation room are slammed shut, they will part ways. “Name.” “Graham.” “Last name.” “Young.” “Age. Any prior criminal records?” “I’m twenty five. I don’t have prior criminal records.” “At least for now,” a man with a grey beard laughs wickedly somewhere in the back. The room is filled with noise. The phone repeatedly rings, interrupting rabble's yell in the station. The smell of cheap coffee from a vending machine. Someone is sobbing, and someone is rustling a chocolate wrapper. But most of it is just nasty profanity. All the sounds are blending together, making it nearly impossible to concentrate. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Graham was led away from those sounds once again. Standard check-in: fingerprinting and a brief photo session to truly “capture the moment.” A heavy door slams behind him, and a lock clicks, leaving him alone in the dark room. Only now does Graham realise how serious the whole situation is; it is neither a joke nor a prank. He really was at the police station. He really was arrested. And I only now realise what serious shit I got myself into. Graham has no idea how much hours he has spent in a room with no light. Finally, a nasty screech can be heard, and the same man with a gray goatee walks into the room. He takes a casual seat across from Graham and, almost like a character in a cheap detective movie, places a binder full of papers onto the table. “Let me guess. Is this a profile on me?” “Well, if you are that smart, let’s get down to business. Mr. Young,” he sarcastically makes an emphasis on the word “Mister” and smirks. “I need you to tell me who the main dealer is, and then breaking and entering will be reduced from felony to misdemeanor.” “I’m requesting a lawyer.” “Of course, you do. Maybe you’d want anything else? Getting your laundry done, ordering you a nice dinner, or singing you a lullaby?” “Oh, that would’ve been swell, but I’ll have to pass. The lawyer would be more than enough for now.” The detective gets angry. Not only his beard, but his whole face now resembles a goat rather than a human. It seems the personality of this man is the same, thinks Graham. “And also, I’m only going to talk to officer White exclusively.” “Now you are setting conditions for me, you bastard? Are you out of your mind?” says the man, clenching his teeth together. “You want me to spill it all out, don’t you? I’ll give all the information to him only.” “Freaking Ashley White!” he cusses and walks away, slamming the door loudly. Graham is all alone in the room again. It's so quiet that he can even hear the heavy beating of his heart. Fear slowly creeps into his consciousness, making his already ill brain come up with crazy escape plans. It’s unclear how long the cops will be fooled until they realize he is as useless as a glass hammer. Graham doesn't have the information they need anyway. It's the first time he's been in such a delicate situation, and he doesn't know what the right choice would be, but he feels it may be worthy to confide in sexy Officer White. So, your name is Ashley. I’m looking forward to our first date, pretty boy.