After I look to my left a fourth time, I know I'm not imagining it. The cop is definitely watching me. I wouldn't say he's staring; just glancing a lot. The fifth time he turns his head, I'm waiting on him and our eyes meet. He holds my gaze for a second, then shifts his dark irises down and away before slowing turning his head forward again. He's making me nervous. I recognize the surge of adrenaline, but I can't discern if it's caused by fear or excitement. I should be afraid, or at the very least cautious. Not only is he a cop, but I'm pretty sure I know his daughter. She's younger than me, but I've seen her around the rez because she dates my cousin.
I wonder if she's heard the rumors and has told her father, and maybe he's here to sniff things out for himself. I tell myself not to worry, that he can't arrest me, or even ask me any questions based on chatter. He'd have to proposition me, and even then I could get away with it scot free. I'd be lying to myself if I said I wouldn't fuck him. I would. There's something sexy about his dark hair and light skin, and even the mustache. I'd definitely fuck him. Just not for money. Not the first time anyway.
I face forward and drain my glass when I see him slide off his stool. He adjusts his belt before he starts my way. My heart pounds and part of me hopes he'll pass me, but he stops. I don't look at him until he speaks.
"Wanna get out of here?" He lays a twenty on the bar to cover my tab.
He knows.
"Yeah, sure," I say, grabbing my bag and following him out into the night.