Page 3 of Asher's Answer
The tall, buff police officer who came to investigate Security’s call has me wanting my blankie and binkie. Butthatwould only get me thrown into the loony bin at this point, so I try to paste on a winning smile and convince the guy -Officer J. Walkerhis name tag reads, and I do my best not to crack a jaywalking joke because I’m sure he’s heard it before- that it’s all a misunderstanding.
“P-please,” I tell him, hating the shakiness of my voice, “I’ve just b-been researching late, a-and it’s all totally above board.” My voice has pitched higher and my thumb has inched towards my mouth. I suck on it briefly, then catch myself and withhold a groan. Unable to completely remove it, I bite down on it and hope the cop thinks it’s just an anxious tic. “I didn’t mean to do a-anything wrong.”
Because I’m a good boy. I swear it. I’m a very good boy.These words almost leave my lips and I bite down harder on the tip of my thumb to prevent it from happening.
Oh, God, no.Not now. I force my hand back out of my mouth and clench my jaw tight.I am an adult.
“Hey, it’s okay,” the cop’s tone is low and soothing, and he reaches out to steady me. His dark eyes are warm and with the way they flicker to my thumb, awkwardly hovering near my lips, they light with understanding.Fuck. “Asher, right?” I nod. He continues. “Asher, breathe for me, buddy.”
He leads me out of the library, shouldering my backpack and guiding me with a hand between my shoulder blades. “We’re just gonna sit out here in the sunshine and have a chat, okay?”
I can’t get arrested. I can’t. I wasn’t hurting anyone.
If I get arrested, who’s going to want to hire me? Who’ll let me rent a room?
“Nobody’s arresting anyone,” he assures me as he leads me over to a bench near the front gardens of the campus, and I can feel the burn of my blush on my cheeks.
“I said that out loud, huh?”
The policeman’s lips quirk. “You did. I’d say you’re stressing out more than you realize.” He hefts my bag up onto the seat between us and reaches for the zip. “I’m guessing you’ve got a blanket or stuffy or something in here that’ll help with that.”
My lower lip wobbles because, yeah, I do and fuck him for knowing that. I feel vulnerable and exposed and embarrassed. “I…I can’t…” my eyes dart around, keenly aware that I’m drawing curious stares from passers-by. Or maybe it’s the attractive man in the uniform who is doing his level best to talk me down from an anxiety attack. Either way, I don’t need people seeing. I certainly don’t want people knowing.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” He lowers his voice and tries to look me in the eye. “A Daddy or a Mommy?”
Damn it, he really does know.Is it that obvious?
“No…no-one,” I manage to get out before my voice breaks. I feel myself slip a little further. “No. No Daddy.” Then I’m hyperventilating because, fuck, I wish I did have a Daddy. I wouldn’t be in this mess if I did. I’d have someone to stay with. Someone to care for me. And I wouldn’t have to hide this part of me. Not all the time. Maybe not ever. But that’s just a dream, and it’ll never happen.
I don’t have the guts to go looking for a Daddy. I haven’t even been brave enough to anonymously join an online group, and the idea of seeking out a local munch petrifies me.
As far as I’m concerned, I do have to hide this side of me, and I am alone, and I’m scared. I’m terrified, actually.
Why can’t I be normal?
“Asher, breathe,” the officer commands gently, and I try. I really do. But my hands are shaking, and the stress of the last few days is building, and the tears are coming…and I can’t stop any of it.
“Okay, new plan,” he decides, lifting my bag back up and pulling me up by my bicep. “We’re going to go for a drive, okay? And, no, you’re not under arrest. Don’t panic.”
Except then I’m being guided into the back of a freaking police car and he’s murmuring with his partner -an older lady who keeps shooting me concerned looks through the rear-view mirror- and then he pulls out his phone and calls someone while she reverses the car out onto the street. He pitches his voice low as he talks into his phone, but turns in his seat and keeps his dark brown eyes on me.
I hang my head in shame and let the tears roll down my cheeks. At least I’m not sobbing.
I hadn’t thought things could get more embarrassing than they were at the beginning of the week, but I’d been wrong.
* * *
I must have fallen asleep during the drive, because I’m gently being shaken awake by another cop. He looks a lot like Officer Jaywalker, but his eyes are a deep shade of blue and have a couple of laugh lines in their corners where Jaywalker does not. Also I can’t help noticing that his scruff is thicker and darker, and I have the urge to rub my cheek across his jaw like a cat.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
“Hey, bud,” this cop croons gently, smiling at me with what feels like genuine warmth, “you’re safe, okay? And definitely not under arrest.”
“Well, that’s something,” I sigh, closing my eyes and shaking my head. I can see the original cop lurking behind this one on the other side of the open car door.
“So, my name’s Charlie,” this new cop tells me with the same warm tone that should not be sending happy vibes to my little self, and I try to push that headspace further away even as Charlie leans over me and unbuckles my belt for me in a classic Daddy move, “and I think we should go inside and have a chat, okay?”
I panic at the thought of having to go into a freaking police station, but as Charlie takes my hand and helps me out of the car, I frown in confusion at the house in front of me. “What…where are we?” The original officer hands me my backpack and, despite myself, I cuddle it in front of me like a plush toy.
