DISCLAIMER: The characters herein are used without permission. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written in 2006 and posted to ff.net with the same title.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To howlingturtle[at]hotmail.com

My Delinquent
By SilverTurtle


She's the town delinquent. She's my boss' daughter. She's at least six years younger than me. But she's so much fun, she enjoys things in ways I haven't seen others enjoy them. Maybe it's because she isn't a genius like everyone else in town. Maybe that's what I've been looking for.

I know I come off as cold and stand-offish but I do have feelings. I ache to find the right person for me; I want to fall in love just like everyone else. I want to have someone who loves me for me. I want someone who can know that I'm a genius and still treat me like a normal person. Hell, I want a normal person.

And she is most definitely normal. She isn't all that smart, not dumb, but she's no Einstein. When I had to baby sit her those two days I was surprised to find just how well we connected. I could just talk to her, be a woman with her and not have to worry about some scientific crisis happening.

With her father as the sheriff of this place a crisis is bound to happen, we all know it. Not that the town doesn't do well enough to create problems on its own. It is a place full of geniuses after all, Eureka.

Of course, all the brilliant minds in the world can't solve loneliness. The only cure to that is to fall in love, there is no other substitution. We haven't quite figured out why, but humans are social creatures, they need other people to function normally. Even I need other people; though at the moment I feel like I can't have the only one I want.

Because of the persona I show to the world, the one I built to protect myself; it is hard for people to get close to me. It's hard for me to let them get close. But I want them to be, no, not all of them, just her. I want her to be close to me.

I want to know her and I want her to know me. And I know it's wrong, well not wrong, I know better than to think it's wrong, it's just that she's so young. I mean, she's a minor and I'm a cop…I know the law. It wouldn't be right…it wouldn't be wrong, just not appropriate.

But she's so…so…unique. In this town of geniuses and brilliant minds she stands out for being average. It's so odd to think that because she's average she's more unique than anybody in this town. She's certainly more interesting than anyone else in my world.

She's different, in a good way. She's so unorthodox. I'm convinced it's because she's normal, well, not normal, but she isn't a genius. I love that she's just an average girl, except that she isn't really average in any way. She's special. More special than anyone I've ever met.

I want her desperately. I mean, I want to be with her. I want to hold her hand and talk to her and do all the mushy courting stuff that couples do. That's what I mean when I say I want her. I just wish she felt the same way, at least then I'd have a chance with her…in two years anyway, when she turns legal.

It's funny that in this town of geniuses the only person I want, the only person I feel could be my equal in life, is an average teenage girl. I wonder if she ever thinks of me; if she wishes, as I do, for just one chance for us to be together. I know that if I ever was in a relationship with her I'd do my damnedest to keep her with me. I wouldn't ever hurt her.

I think I'm in love with her. I must be for her to consume so much of my thinking. I've spent all day sitting at this desk thinking about her. There are sketches in my notebook of her. Of her face, her jaw line, her eyes, her ears, her smile, all separate and all together. She makes such a beautiful picture that I just wish I could get her to pose for a painting. When I have nothing to do I sit at this desk and paint. If I could get her to pose for just one picture I would be happy. I'd have some part of her for the rest of my life.

I'm baby sitting her again today. She's sitting in the chair across my desk with her feet propped up on my desk and reading a magazine. Every once in a while she'll ask a question, or she'll ask for my opinion on something and I'm ever eager to give it, though I pretend not to be. I wonder if I should ask her to pose for me now…I wonder if she'd actually do it.

She's said before that she likes the art that I've done. I wonder how she'd feel if I made her into a piece of art, she's already a work of art. I showed her one of my sketchbooks the first time we met, which was odd because I never show people my work. Something about her just drew my attention.

I look at her now as she reads that magazine and I can't help myself. I think about how she looked in that formal dress when we gave out that Nobel Prize to Irving H. Thatcher to save the world. She was so beautiful in that dress, it hugged her in all the right places and it was the perfect color for her. I wonder if she ever thinks about how I looked in my black formal dress, I hope that she does.

Suddenly all I can see are her eyes, I jump; she's startled me. "What?" I ask, ever so cleverly. She's looking at me like she's trying to figure out some big mystery when she says "You were staring at me, I just thought I'd give you a closer look since you seemed so intent. You know, when my dad told you to watch me I don't think he meant every moment until he gets back."

She's still leaning over my desk looking into my eyes and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to close that little gap and kiss her senseless. I blink at her for a moment and say "Well, I'd prefer not to take any chances" and give her my best sarcastic grin. I think I was trying to put her off with that but it didn't work. She's still right in front of me, only she's moved around the desk.

"Oh, really? And what chance are you trying to avoid taking, Jo?" Is that my imagination or did her voice just go all husky? She moves closer, I can feel her heat; I can also feel my heart beating in my chest and pounding in my ears. I want her closer.

I swallow hard and reply "The chance that you'll run off and I'll have to face the fury of your father when he finds you missing."

"Is that really what you're afraid of? Because I thought it was something more like being afraid of this!" Suddenly she has my face between her hands and her lips covering mine. She's kissing me. Holy God she's actually kissing me! And it's so nice. It's perfect. It's warm and sweet and soft and better than I thought it could be.

My eyes close and I'm kissing her back. She still holds my face in her hands as she settles herself on my lap, straddling me, and my arms go around her waist to keep her there almost automatically. I can feel her tongue pushing against my lips and I let it through, our tongues meet and it's like heaven.

I didn't know I could feel like this. That someone could make me so happy with so little effort. Just a kiss and I'm on cloud nine. But God she's so wonderful. She's perfect. She's on my lap and kissing me and it seems as if she wants to be there.

The kiss is only moments, but it feels like hours. When she pulls back she looks once again into my eyes and asks "Are you still afraid Jo?"

I smile, she had me pegged from the moment she started talking. I wonder how long she's known about my wanting her. "Yes, but not of you." That's my honest answer. I'm not afraid that she won't return my feelings; I am afraid that her father will find out and flip out. She seems to understand this as she continues watching me.

"How did you know I had feelings for you anyway Zoe?" I can't figure out how she knew. I didn't think I'd ever given any hints, I thought I'd been just as distant with her as with everyone else.

"I found your personal sketchbook. You know the one with all of those drawings of me." A huge grin spreads across her face and I can only think of how beautiful she is. I want to paint her even more now. "I think it's sweet that you pay so much attention to detail" her grin turns predatory and her eyes flash and I wonder what she has in mind.

"So…how long do you think we can keep this from my dad?"

"I don't know, why do you ask?" I'm worried now. She seems to know something I don't.

"Well, my bet is that we won't be able to hide it at all so we should just come clean"

"Zoe? What do you mean?"

"I mean he's standing at the door right now trying not to kill us both."

"What?!" And I manage to swing my chair around without unseating either of us only to find that Carter isn't standing in the door. At first I feel relief, and then baffled anger. Why the hell did she do that?!

She's looking down at my face and smiling "Gotcha. I just needed to see you react to something. You're always so composed, it's kind of freaky. You're not mad are you?" And she pulls out her pout. Great, I can't stay mad at her. I have a feeling I just lost all control in this relationship, and oddly, I'm okay with that.

"I'm not mad. Next time you want a reaction out of me…try stealing my gun. I guarantee that'll get a response."

"I'll try to keep that in mind." We're joking now and I like how comfortable it is. She's still in my lap and her arms have moved to wrap around my neck. Goofy smiles are plastered on both our faces and before we realize it we're kissing again and loving it.

I break the kiss this time and ask "Would you pose for me sometime? I've got this great idea and you're the only one fit to model for it."

"Buttering me up already huh? I like it." And she kisses me again. We're both hyper aware that her father could walk in at any moment and catch us making out (it's starting to get heated) but we're beyond caring.

This is what I've been looking for. I knew she was special. She may be a delinquent, but she's my delinquent now and I'm not letting her go for anything.

The End

Return to Miscellaneous Fiction

Return to Main Page