Cop stop
I was zoned out…and driving. Never a good combination. I was about to turn left into Von’s when I realized I’d miscalculated how close the median actually was. Without even looking behind me, I swerved to the right and proceeded to the stoplight. To my left, turning past me through the intersection, was a cop.
And to my amazement and shock, it wasn’t just any cop…but The Cop, who I dated about six months ago. Upon his graduation out of the academy, he was assigned to patrol not only the area I in which I work, but my neighborhood I live in as well. Perfect.
Thankfully, he didn’t pull me over. He must not have noticed my little indiscretion. Luckily, I don’t think he noticed me at all. Part of me wishes I could say the same about him. Truth be told, I about peed myself.
We’ve talked once since we stopped seeing each other. Apparently he has a girlfriend. The running gossip is that they can’t stand each other so they have a lot of makeup sex. The perfect glue to an imperfect relationship.
Rumor has it he’s been asking about me. Huh. Flattering. Even if it’s wrong, it feels like sweet revenge. Sure, it’s silent and immobile—but it’s just the thing a girl needs to hear sometimes. When for months I wondered if what I felt was really unrequited or if there actually was something there, it’s a nice reassurance that I’m not a total chump. There’s something oddly satisfying—not to mention ego-boosting— about actually hearing the hearsay and finding out that someone isn’t quite as over you as you once thought.
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