I realized I'd gone a little far in my blitzkrieg assault on her sensibilities with all those potentially triggering responses.
Maybe Damien did secretly have dreams of a fight club, riding a motorcycle, working a job that was ill-suited to him. After all, everyone had to have had something they'd like to do and didn't get around to actually doing.
Perhaps all of those desires were floating around somewhere inside of him and now, after a lifetime of indoctrination that forced his gender to stay shut up in a bubble and had that mind in isolation, the renegade was getting an opening of daylight.
Although, to be honest, I found a perverse enjoyment in all of this. I wasn't simply replying in accordance to Damien's hypothetical thoughts, or only trying to get a specific reaction. These answers were coming to me on their own. My mind didn't tell my mouth, 'tell Valeria the words'. I would've been mortified otherwise. No. My lips and tongue made the choice themselves, almost spontaneously, and I went with them.
'You just find it amusing messing up their perceptions, is what is happening, don't you?'
Perhaps, but I wasn't doing it solely out of mere sadism.
I had no intention of behaving according to what she expected of me, whether in terms of being a proper man or a normal male, or what she assumed the values and ideals would've been in a universe filled with those same 'distressed males' and where men were mostly sheep to the slaughter.
I'd merely stated and responded to her question exactly how I'd wanted to. In no way would my behavior align with what was the norm.
I shook my head. "Nothing, really. Am I making you uncomfortable, Valeria?"
"Not at all!" The denial was so rushed it was downright implausible. "It's... unexpected, is all."
Unexpected was an understatement, judging from how her face was nearly white.
"Oh, don't look like that. I'm probably just exaggerating. If I had the opportunity and the freedom to start a fight club in a seedy back alley downtown or in the living room, I'm not even sure I'd want to." I chuckled lightly. "This is just the effect you're having on me, being so beautiful and all."
Valeria nearly dropped the cup.
"S-stop!" She uttered a moan of frustration. "Are you always like this with people you first meet? Say stuff that's..." She trailed off, wrenching her police hat and covering her face with it. "I'm an officer on duty, you can't just say these things. You can't. You can't."
"Alright, alright." I leaned back, tidying up the mess we made and stacking up our plates and cups. I've worked as a waiter. The habit to clean up after customers was still deeply ingrained. "I'll be a good boy from now on. I promise."
A pause. I waited. She slowly lowered the cap from her face, her moderately rosy as she squeezed every drop of formal training and composure into her system. "I—" Her smartphone vibrated stubbornly, and a look of intense reluctance spread across her features. "—have to get back to work."
"I'll walk you out." I replied, gathering our trash and throwing it into a nearby bin. I could sense eyes and ears all over the café's interior as Valeria straightened out her uniform. When I glanced over at our former table, the flustered waiter was cleaning it at mach-2 with an expression of religious fervor on her face.
She glanced at me, surprised to see I was staring right at her.
I waved a hand, muttering a soft 'thank you, bye'.
She bit her bottom lip so hard I thought she'd rip it off. "G-Good bye, thank you." She murmured back, her hand caught in an awkward, jerking motion. It was kind of cute, because she had been cleaning the table with a cloth, and used that very same hand to wave back, bobbing it like a pon-pon.
I chuckled. The waitress, realizing it as well, giggled.
Valeria glanced at me in an unusual manner. "You're dangerous." She muttered.
And then we were out in the open air.
As Valeria stepped into her car, she looked reluctant. She turned to me, forlornly.
"Uhm, could I see your phone...?"
"Hmm...? My phone?"
"It's... for safety. And communication. I have to give you my number. Just in case." She explained in an uncertain and bashful way.
"Oh, it's for my safety, Valeria?"
"Yes, it's for your safety."
"Sure." I tossed her my phone. "Don't take too long. I might call you in the middle of work or in the middle of the night."
"Haah?"
"Joking. Joking. As you said, this is merely for safety measures and nothing else, right?"
"Y-Yes. I swear to God, no matter what..." She punched her number in after some clumsy navigation, handed me my phone and gestured awkwardly with the cap. "Thank you for the coffee and chat... and for tolerating the inappropriateness. Really... thank you."
Tolerating the inappropriateness. Is this how it feels to date a female in the days of yore when you couldn't touch their elbows or sit next to them until you marry them?
"No worries. The coffee was excellent, and you are a lovely individual, Officer. Oh, if it's not too much trouble. I can ask you for a favor?"
"Yes, Damien. As long as you're not asking for criminal favors."
"As much of a saint as you are, I can't imagine you giving those away unless under extenuating circumstances, or unless I paid for those with my body." I offered her an indulgent smile, and her eyes went momentarily wide at the prospect of actually taking payment through my body in a very inappropriate way. "Could you drive me back home? It's just a minute or two out of your way. Unless you're going in the other direction, then nevermind."
There was a split second of silence before she immediately recovered and offered. "Of course. Hop in."
I smiled brightly as I got in. "I'm getting arrested, how exciting. Can you turn the siren on?"
"Don't tempt me. Do you always crack jokes like this?"
"Who says I'm joking? Please, turn it on?"
"Absolutely not."
"But..."
"There will be none of that—"
I lightly picked her cap, which had been tossed aside when she entered the driver seat, and placed the hat on my head, fingers expertly pinching the bridge like a real professional, and stared at her. I didn't say anything, but my luminous, blinking eyes and the miniscule tilt of my head was enough.
Valeria visibly gulped, stared, gulped again, and couldn't tear her gaze off my form. "You... are very pretty." She mumbled with some difficulty. Her voice was lightly trembling, hands tightening around the steering wheel, her breathing a wheeze away from a heart attack.
Pretty? I didn't want to be pretty. I wanted to be handsome. And while both words could mean the same thing, you're more likely to use 'pretty' on a flower. Who'd ever call a flower handsome?
I still didn't say anything and just nodded slowly with an innocent, obligatory, bright smile. I had this intuition Valeria would get increasingly uncomfortable the more I stretched this silence.
So, I just continued staring.
"Damien, please... I can't concentrate."
As if on cue, when she tried to start the engine and peel out of the curb, her car made a violent sputtering sound, lurched forward, and promptly gave up.
Valeria bit a cry as the car unceremoniously stalled.
"Oh, it stalled."
"......"
She gritted her teeth.
"Can you turn it on for me, Valeria? Just one minute."
"F-F-Fine!"
The severe thin line of her mouth had turned into a funny wavering 'S' as she averted her gaze, shifted gears correctly, and pressed a tiny button on a rectangle box next to her steering wheel, and the red-blue lights began flashing, accompanied by a deafening whining sound.
I grinned.
She winced.
The drive was longer than I imagined it would. Looking at the speedometer, we were going 20-mph. I didn't say anything, and just looked out of the window, while she bit her lips, mumbling inaudible things.
She didn't take a peek at me, focusing her gaze only on the road and whatever was in front of her. I looked around the car, curiously. There were many interesting buttons and gadgets.
Valeria was still driving in a state of nervousness.
"If you keep driving like that, you might get stopped by another police officer for speeding, Officer Valeria."
Of course, it was a joke. She was going at a pace slower than the city's cyclists, with the way people rode their bikes on these busy streets. The only reason other cars weren't honking was that those vehicles recognized this vehicle as a police car.
She coughed, her foot lightly pressing the accelerator, and turning the 20-mph on the display, into a slightly higher 25-mph.
And even then, the cop still looked stiff and nervous.
Her knuckles were completely white against the wheel as she struggled to get us to the Winters estate.
"Right there, thank you." Eventually, I pointed to one of the numerous large white villas of the area.
Valeria stuttered for a few moments before parking the vehicle next to the walkway leading to the gate. She was so damn nervous the wheel nearly climbed the curb.
She reminded me of my first time driving a hot chick around in the privacy of my 2003 Nissan Sentra.
Ah, the memories.
I had been so nervous I kept thinking 'what if I screw up and drive into a ditch? What will she think of me?' There's something attractive about a man who could confidently take the wheel, and get both himself and a passenger to their destination safely, right? Or suavely parallel park while delivering some charming chatter as he flawlessly managed to get into a tight spot.
'Curious that the tables are reversed.' I thought idly. 'What an inversion of sex roles.'
The loud siren naturally attracted the eyes of a number of curious passers-by, including my family, who seeing the police vehicle parked right in front of the driveway had some rather amusing reactions.
Hurried steps approached. The doors swung open in unison. Willow and Freya were the first to come out. Then followed Iris and Ivy, who both had a worried expression etched onto their faces. Calista was nowhere in sight.
"Damien! What happened?! Are you alright?!" My mother shouted as she rushed to my side. Her eyes were wide with panic and her features taut as she took in the sight of the police car, the flashing lights, and me, stepping out of the passenger side.
Her mind was already concocting a dozen worst-case scenarios.
"I'm fine, Mom. Relax." I said, with an airy wave of dismissal. "Officer Valeria here was just giving me a lift."
Willow's panicked gaze flickered between me and the stern-faced officer who was now getting out of the car. The relief on her face was palpable, but it was quickly replaced by a deep-seated suspicion. "A lift? From the police?"
"It's not what it looks like." I said, my tone laced with a hint of amusement.
"A cashier at the café fainted." Officer Valeria explained, her professional demeanor back in place, though she still avoided direct eye contact with my mother. "I was on the scene and took Damien's statement. Since he was alone, I deemed it safest to provide him with transportation home."
Freya crossed her arms as she looked the officer up and down. "How... considerate of you."
"I'm just doing my job, ma'am."
"Yes, of course." Freya's tone was flat.
"Anyway, thank you, officer. You really saved me the walk." I smiled at Valeria.
The effect was immediate. Her stern expression softened, just a fraction. "It was... no trouble at all."
I offered another small smile and the officer gave a curt nod, and without further words of farewell or pretense, she was climbing back into her patrol car and driving off, the sirens mercifully silent.
Oh, she forgot her cap. 'Guess it's mine now... unless she wants it back. Nah, it's mine for sure.'
"Damien, you..."
Willow didn't know whether to laugh or sigh. I supposed this whole chain of events looked quite insane if someone were to peck at it with no previous background information, context, or even awareness of the circumstances involved.
Freya, Iris, and Ivy all stared at me as if I'd sprouted an extra nose.
"What?"
I stared back unflinchingly, tipping my police hat in my favorite Aunt's direction, before glancing at my mother and sisters and beginning to ascend the porch.
"Damien?"
Willow called out again, backed up by Freya this time, who wore an uncharacteristic frown. Well, I'd say 'uncharacteristic' because Auntie was hardly ever anything other than gleeful, at least as far as I could tell, anyway.
"Yes?"
I turned towards them.
"We..." Willow struggled to get the words out, briefly reminding me of Valeria. "I think we need to talk about your... behavior."
"And why's that?" So fast? I've been expecting something like this ever since I awoke in this reality, but for my mother to have picked up on such an evident aberration of society norms and take the first step to interrogating me within hours, ah.
This is why you take baby-steps, Damien! Don't rush your entrance into hell. They will take things into their own hands and come crashing down the walls of the proverbial Rome before you do a damn thing!
"You're different, and your sudden change of behavior is making everyone nervous, darling, including me, and it might—"
"Mom, chill out." I shot Willow a small smile. "Why don't we discuss this later, once I freshen up. You can bring up any and all of these concerns with me. Maybe even the girls can add a few inputs to their list too. Alright?"
Willow frowned at this suggestion. "No, I don't believe I can wait any longer. You will—"
"Sure." Freya immediately jumped in, as if expecting this response from me. "We're still here all morning, in the kitchen, Damien. Take your time." She rested her hand on her sister's shoulder and gave her a reassuring pat.
She sighed, looking deeply reluctant, but relented to my wishes in the end.
It was amazing how the dynamics of authority and submission changed whenever these two were together.
Mother was the first in command. Second, Auntie Freya. Though to what extent these roles overlapped and whose power could supersede the other, or by what criteria these roles were decided, I had no idea.
I figured I was the last in this pyramid, with all decisions taken for me.
Not that I cared that much either way. All in due time. All in due time.
I walked up the steps, gently ruffling Ivy's and Iris' hair along the way, and finally vanished from their sights.
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