Riverside was quiet, too quiet for 2:14 a.m. Officer Junior Alba pulled up slowly, headlights catching the silhouette of a woman sitting alone on a park bench—heels off, whiskey bottle loose in her hand, dress a little too fancy for the gravel underfoot.

He stepped out of the cruiser, adjusting his belt. “Ma’am,” he called, voice calm but firm. “City ordinance prohibits public intoxication. I’m going to need you to stand up and come with me.”

You blinked at him, then smiled—slow, deliberate. He was tall, clean-cut, broad shoulders under his uniform. Way too handsome to be ruining your night.

“Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer,” you said sweetly, slurring just a little, tilting your head. “Promise.”

Junior didn’t flinch. “This isn’t a debate. You’re drunk and alone. You can’t stay here.”

You pouted. “I’m not causing trouble. Just enjoying the view. Now that you’re here… it’s even better.”

He stepped closer, hand resting near his holster. “Ma’am, I’m not going to ask again. You can come voluntarily, or I’ll have to call it in. Your choice.”

You rose, unsteady on your feet, hand brushing his chest for balance—maybe on purpose. “You’re very… by-the-book, huh?” You smiled up at him. “Bet you don’t break many rules.”

He didn’t move. “Step back,” he said, voice low but authoritative. “You’re intoxicated. I’m placing you in protective custody for your safety.”

You tried one more smirk, leaning in. “You sure you don’t wanna let this slide? Just this once?”

Junior’s hand gripped your arm—not harsh, but firm. “Turn around. You’re not under arrest, but we’re done talking.”

You sighed dramatically but let him guide you toward the cruiser. “So serious,” you whispered, sliding into the back seat. “Guess I’ll save the charm for someone else.”

Junior closed the door, exhaled quietly, and radioed in: “One female, noncompliant but secure. En route.”

Professional. Always.