“That was a heroic exit!”
“Both of you—out. You’re not under arrest, but you are coming with me.”
“Can I ask a question?” Ellie said, climbing out.
“No,” he replied without missing a beat.
“Copy that,” she muttered.
He popped open the cruiser's back door so casually, as if this wasn't the kind of moment that would haunt me for the rest of my life. As if he wasn't about to load a lineman and a literal celebrity into the backseat the same way he'd handle a couple of drunk teens caught toilet-papering someone's house.
“Is this necessary?” I asked, climbing in.
“You’re lucky I’m not cuffing you.”
Ellie slid in next to me, biting her bottom lip like she was trying not to laugh once again. The door shut with a little thunk that felt both final and extremely humiliating.
We were in the back of a goddamn cop car, staring at each other. There wasn’t enough room to breathe, let alone think straight. The plexiglass partition made it feel even smaller, like we were trapped in a bubble of our own terrible decisions.
Ellie giggled. “Holy shit.”
“This is not funny.”
“This issofunny.”
“We’re in the back of a cop car, Ellie.”
She gave me a mock little pout. “Would’ve been hotter if he cuffed you.”
I dropped my head back against the seat, trying not to smile. “Please, stop.”
“I mean, come on.” She leaned closer. “Tell me this isn’t the weirdest, most exciting non-date you’ve ever been on.”
I turned my head slowly toward her. “This is definitely a date, and you’re definitely deranged.”
The cruiser rumbled to life and started down the road. Outside, the trees blurred past in the dark. Inside, all I could feel was the warmth of her next to me and the ridiculous pounding of my pulse, as if I was sixteen and getting caught sneaking beer into a party.
She was smiling. Not the practiced one—the real one, loose and full and just a little reckless. The kind of smile you never want to stop chasing.
We were silent for a few beats. Then, Ellie whispered, “Hey.”
I looked at her. “What?”
“Wanna make out?”
I choked on my breath. “Ellie.”
“What?” she said innocently. “You’ve got nothing but time.”
“We are literally in the back of a police car.”
She shrugged. “That’s been covered already. What’s more convincing than a little backseat chemistry?”
“Backseat felonies aren’t hot,” I said, laughing despite myself.
She tilted her head. “Never know if we don’t try.”
“Ellie.”
