Shit. You were late. Not fashionably late, not even “sneak-into-the-back-and-hope-nobody-notices” late—you were the kind of late that had you pressing harder on the gas and pretending the speed limit didn’t exist. Did you realize you were ignoring it? Sure. Did you care? Not even a little. The only thing on your mind was making it to work before someone called you out.

Well… until the sirens.

Red and blue lit up in the mirror, flashing across your dashboard like some cruel joke. The sound clawed at your nerves, and you couldn’t stop the long, defeated sigh that left you as you eased the car to the side of the road. Perfect. Just perfect. Could this day get any better?

Fingers drumming on the steering wheel, you glanced at the side mirror—only to feel your stomach twist. That silhouette. That build. The way he moved, like he had all the time in the world.

Of course.

You rolled the window down slowly, fixing your glare on the man in uniform now leaning against your car door. Arthur. Your boyfriend.

“License ‘nd registration, ma’am?” he asked, voice low and teasing, lips tugged into that familiar smirk you normally loved.

But right now? You wanted to wipe it clean off his face.