As you can probably guess, with one thing or another (which is a MUCH more loaded phrase than most people realize), Ryan and I have gotten really close. So, as I was saying my final goodbyes today (before my trip to Hawaii for a week, just to clear up any confusion in case you got the wrong idea from the 'I'm Not Going Anywhere post), he stayed a little later than Katie and Tanner, because I'd been with them while he was working and they had to take Katie's cousin Caleb - The Inspiration - back to his home in Spanish Fork. We didn't want to go into my house because the rest of my family was scrambling to get ready for our trip but we didn't want to stand out in the cold, so we ended up sitting in front of my house in Birdie - The Painted. We just talked about this and that, covering anything we felt like we needed to for the past and previous weeks.
We should have known something was up when about 10 different cars passed us. First off, it was about 11:30 at night. Secondly, my road is never really busy, unless school is just getting out. Ryan even said, "I've never seen this many cars on this road." We just ignored them though. It was harder to ignore the huge white truck, however, because it decided to stop outside my neighbor's house, with its lights off. We both watched for someone to get out, but there was no sign of life. Feeling like we'd rather not be focusing on the looming locomotive, we did our best to ignore it, talking still, but we stopped when the car lurched forward and came at us, aiming for poor, defenseless Birdie - The Painted. Right before it was about to hit Birdie - The Painted - the truck turned and continued like it was just going down the street. Suddenly, there was this blinding light behind us, as the truck's headlights appeared in Birdie - The Painted's - back window. Both of us gasped for air as the blue and red 'cop lights' flashed behind us. When I say flashed, I quite literally mean flashed, because the officer only kept the lights on for a second or two.
Ryan and I waited, with baited breath, waiting for any sign of movement from the cop, and didn't see any for an unusually long minute or so - which really is a pretty slow reaction time, believe me, I would know. Finally, I see the beam of a flashlight on the road next to the truck and Ryan rolls down his window. The cop meanders up to Birdie - The Painted - making sure to check the back seat before coming level with Ryan's window.
"How're you guys doing tonight?" he asks.
I honestly had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Like he really cared.
"We're good," Ryan and I replied simultaneously.
"What're you up too?" he asked - finally getting to the point.
"We're just sitting here talking. . ." Ryan said nervously.
"Well you don't get too many people 'talking' in a car outside some one's house on a Tuesday night," the cop said.
"It's her house," Ryan said instantly, pointing at me.
I waved, like 'Hi, I'm innocent, I swear.'
"Oh, that makes much more sense," the cop said, as apologetically as a cop could. "I had to check, you know, just because."
"It's fine," we replied.
"Have a good night you guys," he said.
"Thank you, sir, you too," we said, and I waved again for good measure.
He went back to his car and pulled away. Only when we were out of his sight range did we collapse in on each other, dying of laughter.
"They're following me," I said. "I'm telling you."
"It's just your luck, Paige," he replied, shaking his head.
Moments Like These