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“I don’t know if I’m dressed for a fancy restaurant,” she tells me, looking down at my sister's jeans and t-shirt.
“That’s what I love about this place the most. It’s casual but the food is excellent,” I console her. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. You’ll still be the most beautiful girl in the place.”
“Detective Cappella, it’s been a long time. We missed you,” Dante, the owner, greets us at the door.
I hold out Carrie’s chair and wait for her to be seated then brush two fingers across the side of her neck before sitting in the chair beside hers. I like sitting close so I can play with her under the table. She blushes at first, but when I slide my hand all the way up to her crotch, she squeezes her thighs, enticing me to be even bolder.
The waitress looks on suspiciously as she brings our wine and appetizers to the table. She caught on so quickly that I wonder how often she sees a couple pleasing each other under the table. At this point, I’d like nothing more than to drag Carrie off to the ladies' room and fuck her against the wall, but this is a family restaurant and everyone knows me.
As a cop, I have a reputation to uphold, so I simply continue to stroke her clit through her jeans and fantasize about what I’m going to do with her when I get home. She crosses her legs, trapping my hand, and starts to subtly and slowly grind against it, seeking friction.
The color washes from her face, and she bites her lip. She shoots me a look caught somewhere between bewilderment and excitement. My grin widens as I realize I’ve just made her come right here in the middle of this crowded dining establishment. When the rush is over, she pats her face with her napkin and rushes off to the restroom. I can’t help but chuckle when I see how she wobbles on the first few steps.
We finish our dinner and leave the restaurant. Dante stops us on the way out and says, “It’s always a pleasure to serve you, Detective Cappella, and your beautiful companion as well. Please come again.” I squeeze Carrie’s hand and we both have to fight back our laughter.
“I’m sure my beautiful companion will come again,” I whisper as we head out the door.
“What now?” Carrie asks me.
“Back to the cabin for one last night?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. I want to see your place in the city, too, but I don’t know. The cabin is special to me now, and I’d like to spend just one morning having coffee on the porch without worrying about anyone hiding in the bushes.”
“Even after everything that happened last night?” I ask her.
“Especially after what happened last night. I don’t want my last memory of the place to be a bad one,” she replies.
I don’t know if I’d call it superstitious or sentimental but whatever it is, it’s adorable and makes me want to hold on to her even tighter.
12
A STORY BOOK ENDING
CARRIE
My heart sinks in my chest as I carry the last of my bags out of Chris’s place. In the last week, he’s taken me shopping for clothes, linens, towels, and school supplies, which he insists are all gifts, but I swear I’ll repay him once I get on my feet.
He even spoke to the Dean of Admissions and given his official capacity and the circumstances of my six-month hiatus, he reinstated all of my scholarships and assigned me a new dorm room.
The capture of Ashley Morgan’s killers has been all over the news and unfortunately, my name has become a real topic of conversation around the campus. We arrive and the first thing I notice is a student-made shrine for Ashley in the courtyard.
I stop to look at the pictures, trinkets, and candles that everyone has placed there in her memory, and I can’t help but cry. I’ve spent half a year in fear for my own life, so I’ve never had much of a chance to mourn the loss of my friend.
Chris puts his arm around me, kisses the top of my head, and says, “I’m sorry, baby girl.” I notice a group of students hovering off in the distance trying to look inconspicuous, but I know they’re watching me so I place my hand in Chris’s and say, “Let’s go find my new room.”
We begin walking across the quad but only make it a few feet before being accosted by a reporter and cameraman. “Carrie Richards? Yeah, that’s you. Can you tell me how you feel knowing that the co-ed killers are finally behind bars? What was it like seeing them again?”
I cower under Chris’s arm and he pushes me back and steps in front of me to shield me from the camera.
“How did you know she was here?” he snarls.
“Come on, man. You’re a cop. You know how these things go. Nothing is secret anymore. Just let me get a quick sound bite and we’ll leave her alone. If not, we’re just gonna keep coming back until she talks to us.”
“No, you won’t. She doesn’t want to talk to you and you’re gonna leave her alone. Clear?”
“What are you gonna do? You can’t arrest us for being on an open campus. This is public property, man,” the snarky reporter snaps back.
Chris takes another step forward, grabs his arm, and begins to squeeze. The color runs from the reporter’s face and he shouts, “Jesus, man. Get off me!” Chris clamps down on his arm tighter and bends it behind his back.
