🤍🚓

The drive to the beach is a blend of excitement and exhaustion. The rookies can't stop rehashing the morning's events, their voices overlapping with questions and exclamations. The salt air fills the car as they park near the shoreline, the sound of waves crashing a stark contrast to the urban soundscape of the precinct.

Jonah steps out of the car, stretching his legs and letting the sun warm his face. He looks around, spotting the other rookies gathered around a picnic table, their laughter carrying on the breeze. He heads over, feeling a part of something bigger than himself.

Lauren, on the other hand, walks towards the T.O's who are huddled together, their expressions a mix of amusement and pride. She can see Tim Bradford in the group, his eyes already on her, a knowing smile playing on his lips. The flirty banter from earlier seems a lifetime away, replaced by a newfound respect.

"So, how's your day going, Angela?" Bishop asks as she sits down in a chair. "Cause I saved a kid. Probably gonna make the paper tomorrow," she adds, his voice filled with a quiet confidence. The group falls silent, looking at her expectantly.

"You're so cute trying to get under my skin," Lopez says with a sarcastic smile, her eyes gleaming.

Bradford just laughs, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Trying? She's already under. Just like you're under hers," he teases.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lopez asks, turning her attention to Bradford. Her voice is casual, but there's a hint of something else—confusion, maybe even curiosity? It's hard to tell with Lopez.

"You've wanted to be a detective since you were a kid," Bradford says, his eyes never leaving hers. "Talia wants it because it's a stepping stone to the top, and that pisses you off."

Lauren nods, taking a sip of Tim's drink. The coolness of it soothes her throat, the taste of the soda mixing with the coppery tang of blood still lingering from her busted nose. "She knows your ability to be mercenary gives you a leg up," she admits, setting the cup down. "Cause she's got an overdeveloped sense of morality which gets in her way."

Talia and Angela both look at him and Lauren, then at each other, and in perfect synchrony, say, "Shut up."

Tim chuckles, taking back his drink and sipping it. "Well I don't know why the hell you two are so determined to get out of patrol."

"Yeah, this is where all the fun is." Lauren says with a grin, leaning back in her chair.

Before anyone can say anything, their rookies come over with food for them. Sandwiches, salads, and drinks are passed around the table. The smell of the food is tantalizing, a stark contrast to the stale air of the precinct. Seals, his face still flushed with the excitement of the morning, places a plate in front of Lauren with a proud smile. "One cold cut sandwich," he says, his eyes gleaming.

"Thanks, Seals," she says, her voice a bit nasal from her swollen nose. She unwraps the sandwich and takes a bite, the taste of the bread and meat mingling with the lingering metallic taste in her mouth.

Tim watches the rookies with a bemused expression, his eyes lingering on Chen as she approaches with his lunch. She's got his usual—a turkey sandwich with avocado and a side of chips. She sets it down in front of him, her movements precise and almost formal. "You didn't forget the hot sauce, did you, boot?" he asks, his tone firm.

Chen's cheeks flush slightly, and she sighs, turning around to head back to the cooler. "I'll grab it," she says, her voice carrying a hint of resignation.

Suddenly, Bishop's radio crackles to life, the static cutting through the easy banter. "7-Adam-15, return to 1401 West Sycamore. Situation has escalated." Bishop and Nolan share a look, "Told you we'd be back." She says with sass.

Before Lauren can take another bite of her sandwich, the radio on her belt squawks. She frowns, her hand hovering over the button. The call is for her and Seals. "7-Adam-12, return to the station immediately. We've got an update on your case."

Her stomach sinks as she sets the food aside. "Duty calls," she says to Seals with a sigh. He nods, his own enthusiasm dimming slightly as the reality of the job sets in. They're no longer just playing cops and robbers; this is the real deal.

Before she can stand up, Tim's hand reaches out, his strong grip wrapping around her wrist. "Hey," he says, his voice low and serious. "Be careful."

Lauren's eyes lock with Tim's, the unspoken understanding between them thick in the air. This isn't just about the job anymore; it's personal. She nods, her grip tightening for a brief moment before she pulls away. "Always," she responds, her voice steady.

The rookies watch as Lauren and Seals jog back to the car, their expressions a mix of envy and anxiety. They've all felt the rush of the first call, the excitement of the chase, but it's also a sobering reminder of the dangers they face daily. Lucy takes a deep breath, her gaze lingering on the retreating figures before returning to her untouched sandwich.

"So," she says, turning to Bradford with a raised eyebrow, "you and Officer Clark?"

Tim's jaw tightens, and he looks at her for a second before responding, his voice firm. "Boot. What did I tell you about personal life questions?"

Chen's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, and she quickly averts her gaze, mumbling an apology. The table goes quiet for a beat, the awkwardness thick enough to slice with a knife. But Tim doesn't let it linger. He stands up, tossing the crumpled plastic wrapper from his sandwich into the nearby trash can with a smooth arc that seems almost too casual. "We've got work to do," he says, his eyes flicking to Lucy, who nods in agreement.

The rest of the day is a blur of patrols, reports, and the occasional call that sends their hearts racing again. They listen to their training officers, soaking in every word of advice, every story of past successes and near misses. It's a steep learning curve, but the rookies are eager to climb it.

The next day, mid-morning, Tim and Lauren find themselves in the breakroom, sipping coffee and sharing a rare moment of quiet. The room is bathed in the soft light filtering through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the worn furniture and peeling paint. The air is thick with the aroma of coffee and the faint scent of stale donuts.

Tim leans against the counter, watching Lauren as she sits at the table, her legs crossed, her eyes scanning over some paperwork. "Chen asked me about you the other day at lunch," he says, his voice low and casual.

Lauren looks up, her eyes meeting his. "Did she now?" There's a hint of amusement in her tone, but she doesn't look up from her work.

"Yeah," Tim says, a smirk playing on his lips. "She seems to think there's something going on between us."

Lauren laughs, the sound light and airy. "Well, she's not wrong."

Tim's eyes widen, his grip on the coffee mug tightening. "What?"

Lauren stands up from the chair and walks over to the coffee pot, her movements graceful despite the weariness etched in her face. "I'm joking, Bradford," she says with a laugh, pouring herself another cup. She adds a splash of milk, watching the dark liquid lighten before bringing it to her lips and taking a sip.

Tim relaxes, his shoulders dropping slightly, his grip on his mug loosening. "You had me there for a second," he says, a chuckle escaping.

"You should see your face," Lauren teases, taking a sip of her coffee.

Tim playfully rolls his eyes as he says, "Alright, Clark, let's go before you start planning our wedding." The tension in the room breaks as they both laugh, their shoulders relaxing.

Lauren grabs her paperwork and coffee, the warmth of the mug comforting in her hands. She walks out of the breakroom, Tim's hand lightly resting on her back, guiding her through the doorway. It's a simple gesture, one that speaks volumes about their relationship. It's not romantic, not yet, but there's something undeniable there, a bond that's grown stronger with every shared experience on the job.

They enter the conference room, the air thick with the anticipation of the day's briefing. The other officers are already seated, their faces a mix of seasoned calm and eager anticipation. The scent of brewing coffee and the faint hint of stale cologne fills the space as they make their way to their chairs. The room is a sea of navy blue, the uniforms of the officers blending into the fabric of the chairs, creating a sense of unity and purpose.

Tim Bradford holds the door open for Lauren, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. She catches it and smiles, a knowing glint in her eye, before taking her seat next to him. The chairs squeak slightly as they settle in, the sound echoing through the room like a drumroll.

The murmur of voices dies down as Sgt. Grey enters, his expression grim. He holds up a phone, the screen glowing ominously in the dim light. "Alright, settle down," he barks, his voice cutting through the chatter like a knife. "I just got a disturbing video. I've never seen something so horrific."

He hits play, and the room goes silent as the grainy footage unfolds. There's Nolan, from the previous day's chase, huffing and puffing as he tries to scale a fence that seems to have been built to keep out a small army. His legs kick comically, his gun belt weighing him down like an anchor. The video zooms in, capturing every awkward moment in high definition.

The room erupts in laughter, the tension of the morning dissipating like a popped balloon. The officers lean forward in their chairs, chuckles turning into full-blown guffaws as they watch the rookie's misadventure. Even Grey can't hold back a smirk as he watches Nolan's valiant struggle. It's a reminder that even in the face of danger, there's always room for a little bit of humor, a little bit of humanity.

But amidst the laughter, Lauren's eyes are on Tim. She can't shake the feeling of his hand on her back, the way it sent a shiver down her spine. It's nothing new, the flirting between them, but today it feels different. Like there's something more under the surface, something she's been too busy or too scared to acknowledge.

The briefing starts in earnest, the chuckles fading as Sgt. Grey's face turns serious. "This is a BOLO for Mr. Lance Selby," he says, his voice like a switchblade slicing through the air. "He violated his parole the other day, and let me tell you, this guy is a 12 on the scale of 1 to 10."

Grey passes around a mugshot of Selby, his features sharp and cold, the kind of face that makes you look away. The paper feels heavier than it should in Tim's hand, the weight of the impending mission settling in his gut like a rock. "So whoever gets him off the streets," he says, pausing for dramatic effect, "will get a sincere handshake and..." He pauses again, his eyes scanning the room, a glint of mischief in them. "And... Superbowl Sunday off."

The room erupts into a cacophony of "ooo's" and cheers, the kind that could shake the walls. The rookies look at each other, the thrill of competition sparking in their eyes. This isn't just about the job anymore; it's personal. They want that day off, they need it. It's a prize that whispers of rest and glory, a rare commodity in the life of a cop.

"Alright, alright," Grey says, raising his hands to quiet the room. "That's it. Be safe out there."The officers stand up, their chairs scraping against the linoleum floor. The rookies, feeling the weight of their new responsibilities, follow suit. They exchange glances, a silent understanding passing between them. This isn't just about the job anymore; it's about proving themselves.

🚓...🤍

KATE SPEAKS!

look at me finally publishing chapters to all my books!
anyways

how do we like the story so far?
any recommendations??
friendships you want to see?