Drunk and Disorderly (Love in the City Short) by Liv Morris

we’re both connected to and get his attention. “I’m sorry about all of this. I egged you on.”
    “Yes, you did. But I wanted to get back at you.” Now I see anger in his eyes. He wanted a pound of flesh from me. Well, he’s already had a few pounds of my flesh, but not like this.
    “Get me back?” I ask. “Well, you sure picked an asshole way to do that.”
    We’re standing at the car before Coop can answer me back. But I’m sure he’ll fill me in on how wrong I am. The officer unlocks the back door for us.
    I’ve seen this exact scenario a million times on TV shows. The bad guys under arrest have to climb in the backseat. The officer guides them, placing a hand on their heads so they don’t knock themselves out on the door’s frame. This is one art form I don’t care to imitate. But we have no choice and climb into the back. Sliding across the leather seat, I make room for Coop. I lean against the far door. Far, far away from him.
    “You have no idea, do you?” Coop asks me through gritted teeth, anger seething from him in waves. “Answer me.”
    “Wow, you’re quite the jerk.” My response is spoken more like a hiss. “No, I don’t have any idea why you’re so mad, and honestly I could care less.”
    “Here’s the whole damn truth.” He pauses, waiting until I make eye contact with him and we’re staring into each other eyes. All my attention is his right now. His anger makes him appear so intense, dangerous, and deliciously sexy. He’s as beautiful as hell and I find myself shifting in my seat. It’s the damn Coop effect. No woman is immune to it. “I’ve never, I mean never, had someone leave me after having sex like you did.”
    And boom it hits me. This has nothing to do with me, Millie, the person. It’s his big, fragile ego. I bruised it. Hit him where it really counts. The simple act of my leaving him without a word was a bull’s-eye aimed straight at his pride.
    “I was right. It’s all about you. I was just the first one who stepped on your ego. Welcome to the real world, Coop. It’s called rejection.”
    I really didn’t mean that, you know. There never was any rejection on my part. More like an escape before he rejected me. But I’ll never tell him that.
    “Here’s the deal, Millie. I really liked you. Maybe that’s why it’s bothering me. I thought you felt the way same way about me too.”
    Another bomb was just dropped on me. I wasn’t expecting that response from him at all. He liked me. Coop, Mr. Football, the man who ruined me for all others. Hell, what a dumbass I am. He’s looking at me. Heart on his sleeves vulnerable. God, he’s too adorable right now. So I do what every smart, single woman in my shoes would do. I scoot across the seat and basically attack him. But this time with my lips not my fists.
     

Epilogue
     
    I’ve heard it said that there’s a thin line between love and hate. Sexual chemistry blurs that line. Erases it, in fact. Coop and I are a perfect example of these truths.
    We stayed in that police car for a long time, kissing, groping, panting and steaming up the windows. Trying to make out in the backseat of a car, handcuffed to a 6’3” dude was a challenge but one I succeed at it, thank you very much.
    I bet you’re wondering about the cop. Did he take us to the station? Book us? Throw us in a jail cell? Nah, nothing like that happened at all.
    You see Mr. Reynolds overheard our entire little quarrel. He particularly loved it when I tossed my drink in Coop’s face. And being a wise, sweet man married for close to forty years, he saw what Coop and I didn’t. A basic, undeniable attraction. Oh, and two super stubborn knuckleheads.
    When Mr. Reynolds spoke to the officer privately, he concocted the whole scheme. He asked the officer to cuff us, get us alone in the backseat of his patrol car, and leave us there. They both watched from afar just in case it turned violent, but left when they saw us getting jiggy with