With my torch held against my shoulder as if it were my police baton, I pushed open the door and crept inside. There was a light coming from beneath the living room door. I could hear the sound of voices talking. One was male, the other female. And although I recognised them, I couldn't place who those voices belonged to. With my knuckles glowing white as I gripped the end of the torch, I inched my way silently towards the living room door. Taking a deep breath, and with my heart thumping, I pushed the door open with the tip of my boot and stepped inside. Vincent looked up from the armchair in front of the T.V. and smiled.

"Hey, Sydney," he said with a smile.

At first I was too lost for words to reply as I stood and stared at him in disbelief. He sat with his feet propped on the coffee table, legs crossed at the ankles. There was a cup of tea and a half-eaten cheese and pickle sandwich on the table next to his feet. He had taken off his police jacket, which was now hanging over the back of the chair. The voices I had heard from outside was that of Dana Scully and Fox Mulder as Vincent sat watching an episode of the X-Files on the Sci-Fi channel. That's where I knew those voices from.

Lowering my torch, I strode over to the T.V. and turned it off.

"Oh, Sydney, c'mon," Vincent groaned. "What did you go and do that for? I haven't seen that episode before."

Ignoring him, I wheeled round and hissed, "How did you get in here?"

"The front door was ajar," he said, dark eyes looking at me innocently. "I came by, found the door was open, wondered if you were okay, and so thought it best if I checked to make sure there wasn't a problem. You could have been burgled for all I knew."

"I never left my front door open," I snapped at him. Had I?

"You musta done," he said.

"Even if I had, what gives you the right to help yourself to my food, tea, and T.V?" I barked, slapping his feet from off the coffee table.

"I was starving hungry," Vincent said. "I hadn't eaten all day so I thought..."

"Food isn't the only thing you've helped yourself to, is it?" I snapped at him, yanking my iPod from my coat pocket.

He looked at the iPod with a guilty expression.

"Did you download The Police to my iPod?" I shouted.

"Oh that," he grimaced. "Sorry, but it was a long walk from the police station over to here yesterday and I felt like listening to some music, and..."

"So you thought you would just go and download some tunes to listen to?" I gasped at his nerve. "You do know that costs money, don't you?"

"Oh, sure," Vincent said, standing up and rummaging through his work trouser pockets. "I've got a fiver here somewhere."

"Stick your fiver where the sun don't shine," I snapped at him. "You've got a bloody cheek coming in here and helping yourself to my food and..."

"How about I make you a nice cup of tea?" he cut over me with a beaming smile. "You look really stressed."

"Yes, I am stressed thanks to you!" I snapped at him.

"Because of me?" he said, looking dumbfounded. "What have I done?"

"I thought I'd been freaking burgled!" I roared, half of me just wanting to leap across the room and throttle him.

"But I'm not a burglar," he frowned.

"You just don't get it, do you?" I cried.

Vincent looked at me, a blank expression pulled down over his rugged face, then said, "How many sugars?"

"I give up," I sighed, dropping my iPod into the armchair and heading for the bathroom.

"Where you going?" he called after me.

"To the toilet," I hissed, when all I wanted to do was scream in frustration.

I slammed the bathroom door shut, pulled down my trousers and panties, and sat on the toilet. What a freaking nerve! I thought. How dare he just come into my flat and make himself at home. I didn't even know him. If it wasn't for the fact he was a copper, I would've kicked his arse out of here by now. And the iTunes thing! How dare he download...

Suddenly, I heard the sound of music coming from the living room and it was loud  -  very loud. Boom! Boom! Boom! Came a deep, heavy bass. The very walls of my flat began to vibrate and tremble.

"What the fu...!" I started, jumping up from off the toilet and struggling to pull up my clothes.

I yanked open the bathroom door and raced into the living room. At the door, I stopped and looked in sheer bewilderment. Vincent was dancing  -  if you could call it that  -  in the middle of my living room to The Time by The Black Eyed Peas. I looked incredulously as Vincent danced with an imaginary microphone pressed to his lips and sang along to the music.

"I had the time of my life...And I never felt this way before...And I swear this is true...And I owe it all to you...Dirty bit..."

The music started to pound all around me as Vincent started to sway his arms in the air and jiggle his butt as he danced along to the thumping music.

"All these girls they like my swagger..." Vincent wailed over the music, his butt sticking out and swaying from side to side. "...They callin' me Mick Jagger...I be rollin' like a stone...jet setter...jet lagger..."

Fastening my jeans, I raced across the living room and switched off my iPod which Vincent had dropped into the dock.

"'Cause I'm havin' a good time with you..." Vincent continued to wail, his eyes shut, invisible microphone in his hand. "I'm tellin' you..." he suddenly trailed off suddenly realising the music had come to an abrupt end. Slowly, Vincent opened his eyes and looked at me.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" I roared at him. "You're gonna piss the neighbours off!"

"Sorry," Vincent shrugged like a schoolboy who had been caught having a sly smoke. "I thought it would be nice to have some background music..."

"Background music!" I cried. "The whole freaking town could hear it!"

"I didn't mean to have it on so loud. I couldn't figure out how to turn the sound down..." he started to explain.

"You didn't look as if you were doing much figuring out from what I could see," I said. "You looked like you were throwing some kinda fit. What is wrong with you?"

"I got caught up in the moment," Vincent said. "Besides, when I saw the name of the track on your iPod-thingy, I thought it was going to be that love song."

"What love song?" I quizzed with a frown.

"You know the one..." he trailed off as if deep in thought. "What was it called...oh, God I can't remember now. It was sung by that woman Jennifer Warnes and...what was his name...you know...that old git with long, grey hair and..."

"Bill Medley," I cut in.

"Yeah, that's the guy," Vincent said. "Anyway, I thought it was gonna be that song...you know something nice and romantic..."

With a frown I looked at Vincent and said, "Why would you want to listen to romantic music...there's only the two of us here."

"Romantic? Did I say romantic?" Vincent blushed. "What I meant to say was something nice and relaxing because you feel stressed out. I was just thinking of you...I mean, you're right...why would we want to listen to romantic music together...I mean...we could if you wanted to...no...oh, God...this is getting kinda embarrassing...how many sugars do you take in your tea?" Vincent said, rushing away from me and into the kitchen.

I watched him go. He was the strangest guy I had ever met. He was certainly odd, but in a charming way. He took the piss by constantly helping himself to my stuff and interfering, but he had a sweet  -  innocent quality. Something I hadn't often  -  if ever  -  come across in the men I'd met before. I got the impression that he liked me but was way too shy or clumsy to just come out and say it. Not like Michael. Michael had made his feelings known straight off. Vincent, on the other hand, got all tongue-tied and embarrassed. Now I felt kind of guilty for having to moan at him. He'd obviously been looking for something romantic to listen to on my iPod, but had completely made a mess of it. Vincent seemed to put his mouth into gear before his brain, as I remembered the comment he had made the night before about wanting to go to bed.

Endeared by his blundering attempts to romance me  -  if that was truly what he was trying to do  -  I went and stood in the kitchen doorway and watched him pour two cups of tea.

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