Uncontrollably Yours

Cops

"Of fucking course," I mutter and put my turn signal on before turning into an empty parking lot. I put my car in park, wincing at the bright red and blue lights flashing from my review mirror.

Monty has their hands on the dashboard when I look at them.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Showing that I don't have a weapon," they tell me as if the answer was obvious.

"They pulled me over for speeding, why the fuck would they care about you?"

"You can't be serious."

I'm about to speak on that when a cop comes up to my rolled down window. "Can I help you, officer?" I ask with mock innocence.

"Ya' know how fast you were goin'?" He questions me, in a thick country accent, like I didn't know I was going fifteen over.

So I play along, "I thought I was going the speed limit, sir" I tell him.

The officer leans lower to get a better look at who's in my car. "I got you going 64 in a 45," he says, "fifteen over is considered reckless driving." Then hesitantly he asks me, "you okay?" While eyeing Monty. But the way he asked me was as if he's wondering if me driving recklessly was possibly because I'm being harmed by Monty.

Not understanding why the fuck he would ask me that, I say, "why wouldn't I be?"

The officer doesn't speak on that and instead says, "license and registration?"

"Sure," and I grab my wallet from the cup holder where I had left it, and dig out my driver's license. I hand my ID to the cop.

My registration is in my glove department, so I tell Monty I need to get in there. When Monty leans back, they make the unfortunate mistake of putting their hands down.

"Hey!" The officer shouts, "what are you doing?" Monty's hands are up in the air before the cop could finish their sentence.

And I've never been so enraged in my entire fucking life. My teeth are gritting. I'm shaking from how badly I want to hit this cop.

"Don't," I barely hear Monty murmur to me as I swift through my glove department for my registration. "It's okay," they whisper again.

It's not, but I bite my tongue anyway and give the officer my registration when I finally find it.

"And yours?" The cop says to Monty. The officer's eyes narrowing.

"Excuse me?" I question bitterly.

"His license," the cop reiterates.

"I'm the driver, not him," I state. "Why would you need to see his?"

"Preston," Monty's voice is appalled, but also shaky. "It's fine," they tell me right as the cop yells at me,

"You better watch your mouth with me, boy."

I scoff because now I'm pissed the fuck off knowing that this bitch of a cop is making Monty nervous.

"I'm the driver of this vehicle. I sped. You have no need for his license. I gave you mine-"

"That's it, both of yous step outta' the car."

And that's how Monty and I ended up in a holding cell, with my car towed, waiting for my mother to come bail us out.

"You're un- fucking- believable," Monty scoffs out- which is the first words they've spoken to me since we were hand cuffed- and they shake their head.

"Me? That guy was a fucking asshole to you."

"So what? He's a cop, Preston!"

"That doesn't mean he can treat you like that!" We're shouting in a seething whisper to each other.

There's three other people in the cell; a 40 year-old-looking prostitute, a skinny white guy with dreads and with- one would assume- fake gold jewelry, and a big black man that looks like he could snap me in half with one touch.

"Yes, it does! God, you really are just an ignorant, privileged little boy," Monty spits out.

"Well, excuse the fuck out of me for defending you!"

"Defending me? You made things worse! I could've been shot!"

"For what?!" I ask, genuinely confused.

"For my skin, Preston, are you fucking stupid?" This time, Monty yells.

Anger is boiling in me. "You're fine!"

"Till my dad beats my ass!"

"My mom's bailing us out, you don't even have to tell him!"

"Oh, thank God, for your rich mommy," Monty speaks sarcastically.

"Fuck you," I snap at him.

"Yeah, fuck you too."

We don't speak for a minute, both of us angry with the other. I internally groan, frustrated because maybe it was a little bit my fault that we're in here. So, I swallow my pride and say to them, "I'm sorry, okay? It just really made me angry when he was talking like I was in danger from you."

Monty doesn't respond, so I sigh and sit down on the metal bench that's against the back wall of the cell block (making sure not to sit too close to the prostitute). And I watch Monty.

Their right foot is bouncing subtly. They look anxious. I've never seen Monty anxious. Shit, maybe I really did fuck up.

Then, to my surprise, Monty turns around, not looking at me, and takes a seat to my left. They lay their head on my shoulder. I exhale, feeling relieved they don't hate me.

We wait for my mom to bail us out.

**

I'm a bad Wattpader, I know it's like protocol to make your readers wait for a new chapter, but I GET TOO EXCITED!

I had a similar experience with my friend, unfortunately. The cop was so racist to her and I have bad anger issues, so I was giving the cop attitude, but we didn't get arrested. But I still got a ticket :/

Now, obviously, there are some good cops out there, I just wanted to show how absurd and horrible some of them can be.

Anyway, thank you for reading <3

-xoxo, Bert