Arrested Feelings

This wasn’t the first time Camila had been brought into a police station.

She looked completely at ease, leaning against the wall with one leg bent, the sole of her sneaker pressed against the paint. She chewed gum out of boredom.

Her long hair was streaked with blue and red highlights. Her school uniform skirt had been rolled well above her knees. Both hands were stuffed into her jacket pockets, making her look like a delinquent from every possible angle.

“So, what happened this time?”

It was already warm in May in Riverside, California, borderline hot. The precinct’s air conditioner had broken down that day, and Officer Martinez looked irritated as she walked in to take the statement. Her tone wasn’t exactly friendly.

Her attitude was bad, but Camila’s was worse.

Camila let out a mocking laugh. “What happened? If you’re writing the report anyway, just make something up. Why ask me?”

Emily frowned. “What do you mean, why ask you? If you don’t tell us what happened, how are we supposed to know?”

Camila shot a glance at the man sitting a few chairs away. The corner of her mouth lifted with faint sarcasm.

“Whatever he says happened, that’s what happened.”

Emily was momentarily speechless. She turned to look at the man. He had the rough look of a street punk, nothing like Camila, who, despite her attitude, was still a high school senior in her prime.

After hesitating a moment, Emily continued, “He says you deliberately caused trouble for him. Do you admit that?”

Camila’s expression didn’t change. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I admit it? No matter what I say, you won’t believe me anyway.”

Emily sighed helplessly. “If you don’t say anything, how do you know we won’t believe you?”

This time Camila didn’t answer right away.

After a pause, her red lips parted slowly as she spoke, word by word, “Because I’ve tried explaining myself before. No one ever listens.”

Emily froze, surprised by the sudden seriousness in her voice.

But the moment passed quickly. Camila was back to her usual indifferent self. She spat the gum into a nearby trash can and said flatly,

“He said I was looking for trouble, so I was looking for trouble. What now? Are you going to call my parents? Good luck getting my dad on the phone.”

This wasn’t Emily’s first time handling Camila’s case. She knew exactly what that meant.

Mr. Gonzales’s phone was notoriously impossible to reach. And even if someone did get through, hearing that his daughter had been brought into the station again probably wouldn’t get much of a reaction.

Still, looking at the scruffy guy across the room, it was hard to believe Camila had been the one provoking him. She was beautiful, even if her personality was difficult. No matter how you looked at it, she didn’t seem like the type to go after someone like him.

Emily was still weighing the situation when the office door opened.

A man in a thin summer police uniform walked in. He looked like he’d been out on patrol for hours, his back was damp with sweat, and the black hair on his forehead clung slightly to his skin.

He entered quietly, but he drew attention anyway.

Emily’s eyes lit up when she saw him. She immediately grabbed a bottle of water and some tissues from her desk and handed them over with a smile.

“Asher, you’re back.”

Camila’s gaze was naturally pulled in that direction.

She looked at the tall officer indifferently. His face was unfamiliar, she’d never seen him during her previous visits to the station.

Even though he was sweating, there was no unpleasant smell about him. His dark hair, damp with sweat, somehow made him look freshly washed, clean and sharp.

Maybe her stare was too direct, the reason the man slowly looked over. Their eyes met.

A police officer… and a girl who kept ending up at the station during her senior year of high school. The contrast was strangely out of place.

“What’s going on?”

He withdrew his gaze quickly and casually asked Emily. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a tissue, then twisted open the cap of the water bottle and drank without ceremony.

It was such a simple action, wiping sweat, drinking water.

Yet it looked unexpectedly pleasing when he did it.

Maybe it was because of his features.

Camila had to admit, it wasn’t an exaggeration. This was the first time she’d seen a man with such refined, well-balanced looks. Long, sharp brows. A high, straight nose bridge. Thin lips. Paired with his height and neat movements, he looked both handsome and composed, every bit the polished, elegant type.

A real standout.

But she thought that it was too bad that he was a cop.

The moment Camila thought about the man’s profession, a wave of instinctive disgust rose in her chest.

Just the idea that he was a cop made her feel sick. The fact that she didn’t throw up on the spot was already showing restraint.

Her reaction must have been too obvious, because even Emily noticed. Emily’s expression stiffened, clearly displeased.

“It’s nothing serious,” she said flatly. “Officer Diaz brought her in. We got a call about a fight. When we got there, this girl was beating that guy.” She pointed at the street punk, then at Camila.

“You might not know since you just transferred here,” she added to the man beside her. “This girl’s been here more than once. She’s practically a regular.”

Camila looked like she was still in her teens, the age when girls were supposed to be full of energy and brightness. But there was none of that in her. Everything about her felt worn down, lifeless. Even her voice had a dry, abrasive edge to it, like chalk scraping a board.

She clicked her tongue impatiently. “I mean, can you people do your jobs first and flirt later? I don’t have all day to sit here with you.” She let out a mocking laugh. “I was actually planning to head back out and cause some more trouble so you could arrest me again. Wouldn’t want to disappoint you, right? Since I’m such a regular.”

Her tone was openly sarcastic.

It wasn’t surprising Emily had a bad impression of her. Watching Camila’s attitude now, Emily looked like she was seconds away from losing her temper.

The man beside her exhaled quietly.

“I’ll handle this,” he said calmly. “You go take care of something else.”

He stepped in and took over Camila’s case without hesitation.

Emily looked uncertain.

“But you don’t know her situation, Asher, she, ”

“There’s a case file in the system,” he cut in gently. “I’ll read it myself.”

His hand rested briefly on Emily’s shoulder, a steady, reassuring gesture. She couldn’t argue with him after that, so she left.

Honestly, it was for the best. She was already angry, and if she stayed any longer, she might really end up arguing with Camila.

After Emily walked out, only three people were left in that corner of the precinct, Camila, the street punk, and the man who had just arrived.

He placed his badge and ID on the desk in front of Camila.

She glanced at it lazily and caught his full name.

Asher Flores.

A very fitting name for a police officer.

Camila frowned and immediately looked away. That nauseous feeling surged up again, so strong she almost gagged.

Asher noticed her reaction but said nothing. He simply picked up the file on the desk, skimmed it, then looked toward the punk sitting off to the side.

“You provoked her first,” he said calmly. “Am I wrong?”

The punk’s face darkened instantly. He jumped to his feet.

“Officer Flores, what kind of talk is that? How did I provoke her first? She’s the one who hit me! Your people saw it, she was beating me when you got there! Look at my face!”

His cheek was bruised and swollen.

Asher glanced at it indifferently. “You getting beaten when officers arrived only proves one thing,” he said coolly. “You lost a fight to a high school girl.” He paused. “As for who started it, and why, we can check the surveillance footage.”

The moment surveillance was mentioned, the punk grew visibly anxious. He stiffened his neck.

“Come on, Officer Flores, why waste time checking cameras? This girl already admitted she deliberately caused trouble for me. Why not just close the case based on that?”

Asher ignored him completely.

He looked straight at Camila. “Do you admit you deliberately caused trouble for him?”

Camila shrugged carelessly. “So what if I do? What about it?”

Asher didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a few slow steps toward her.

The distance between them closed little by little.

For some reason, Camila suddenly felt like the air around her had thinned. Her breathing felt off. She couldn’t keep her earlier lazy posture anymore, her raised leg dropped, and she leaned fully back against the wall.

“If you admit it,” Asher said, looking down at her, “that means you’re protecting him.”

His gaze was sharp but controlled.

“He’s a repeat thief. His record’s more complicated than yours. Why would you cover for him?”

“What do you mean cover for,  Officer Flores, you, ” The punk tried to argue, but the moment Asher shot him a cold look, his voice died in his throat.

He shrank back into his chair, silent.

Asher looked back at Camila and asked, “So why were you fighting?”

Camila froze for a moment before answering, “What’s it to you? Why do you care so much? Just process me already.”

“You really want to be processed?” Asher frowned.

When his expression turned cold, his eyes felt like ice. Camila’s body trembled involuntarily under his gaze.

“You’re over eighteen,” he continued evenly. “That makes you legally responsible for your actions. If we go by your confession and handle this formally, you’ll be detained.”

An ordinary girl might’ve been terrified hearing that. But Camila wasn’t ordinary.

Not only was she not scared, she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she doubled over.

“That’s great,” she said between laughs. “Hurry up and detain me. Better yet, keep me a few extra days. That’s the best news I’ve heard lately.”

Asher didn’t respond right away. He simply looked at her in silence.

Camila glared back stubbornly, refusing to back down. But she was still young. Even if Asher wasn’t much older, maybe five or six years, he was still a police officer. When it came to pressure alone, she couldn’t outmatch him.

She was the first to break eye contact. She turned her head away, her eyes faintly red.

After watching her for a while, Asher finally spoke, his tone calm. “If I remember correctly, you’ve got less than a month before college entrance exams.” He corrected himself slightly for the local context. “Finals and college admissions are coming up, right? Go home and focus on studying. Stop causing trouble.”

He paused. “And next time, don’t confess to something you didn’t do just to mess with the police. I won’t let you off so easily.”

Camila shot him an indignant look.

“Then don’t let me off!” she snapped. “Who asked you to? You think just because you’re a cop you can scare me with a few words?” She let out a cold laugh. “Don’t act like you’re some big authority figure… uncle.”

It was the first time Asher had ever been called “uncle.”

He glanced at her, slightly surprised, but not angry. His composure didn’t crack in the slightest. No matter what Camila said or did, he remained steady, like a mountain that wouldn’t move.

“Being a cop is enough,” he said simply.

He turned and walked over to the street punk.

Compared to Camila, this guy was much more cowardly, mostly because he had a guilty conscience. He didn’t even dare meet Asher’s eyes.

Asher stared at him, but his next words were directed at Camila.

“Go home. And next time, don’t try catching thieves yourself. You won’t always run into an idiot like him.”

The “idiot” in question didn’t dare object. He could only force an awkward smile at Officer Flores standing in front of him.

Behind them, Camila clenched her fists. She wanted nothing more than to kick Asher in the back.

But the moment he turned his head slightly, as if sensing her movement, she froze.

Even she didn’t understand why she stopped. She cursed herself internally, but her body reacted on instinct. She spun around and bolted out of the police station.

When Emily came back out, Camila was already gone.

She glanced at the handcuffed punk, then at Asher, who was seated across from him typing up the electronic report.

Emily walked over immediately.

“I’ll finish that,” she said. “You go get some rest.”

Asher didn’t argue. He slid the keyboard toward her and handed over the report.

Emily glanced at him, then couldn’t help asking, “Did that girl explain what happened?”

Asher walked slowly to the window.

Sunlight streamed in from outside, casting a warm golden glow over him.

Through the glass, he could see the girl in the school uniform running farther and farther down the street.

He watched her retreating figure and answered softly,

“Mm. She explained.”