Chapter Text
There were a few things May hadn’t expected that day—four things, to be exact.
First, she definitely hadn’t expected that the moment she stepped out of Starbucks, still clutching her freshly made caramel latte, she’d practically walk right into the aftermath of a hit-and-run accident.
Second, she hadn’t expected to get a crystal-clear view of the fleeing car’s rear end—license plate and all—so perfectly burned into her memory that she could recite it backward if needed.
Third, she hadn’t expected that this little detail would get her escorted, rather unceremoniously, to the Mid-Wilshire police station so she could give an official statement.
And fourth—oh, and this was a big one—she definitely hadn’t expected to sit there for what felt like an eternity, waiting to be "released" even though she hadn’t even been arrested.
At some point, she sighed and leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair, staring up at the flickering fluorescent lights above. "So, uh... do I need a lawyer, or am I just being held here for fun?" she muttered to no one in particular.
A weary-looking officer glanced at her from behind the desk. "You're not being held, ma’am. You’re just... waiting."
"For what? The apocalypse?" she shot back.
The officer barely reacted. "For your statement to be processed."
"Right, right," May sighed, taking a sip of her now-cold latte. "God forbid a witness actually gets to leave in under an hours. Efficiency at its finest."
She drummed her fingers against the armrest, glancing around the room. Just a few hours ago, she’d thought the most unexpected thing in her day would be whether her barista got her name wrong again. And now? Now she was sitting in a police station, playing an unwilling extra in a crime procedural she never signed up for.
Yeah. Definitely not how she’d planned her day.
May stared at the door, as she carefully watched every person who stepped into the police station. She had been sitting here for over an hour now, perched on one of those impossibly uncomfortable plastic chairs, and her patience was wearing thin.
Most of the people who walked in were uniformed officers—same navy blue as the man behind the reception desk. The same uniform her mother used to wear back when she was still on duty everyday. Occasionally, an older civilian would come in, asking harmless questions, handling minor matters—nothing dramatic, nothing that disrupted the slow-moving rhythm of the station.
And then, someone walked in who immediately caught May’s attention. A girl, around her age, maybe a little shorter. She had long, dark brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves, and a face so strikingly beautiful that May felt momentarily stunned.
Not just beautiful—effortlessly beautiful.
The girl was dressed casually but stylishly, wearing high-waisted jeans, a fitted top, and an oversized white denim jacket. She carried herself with the kind of confidence that suggested she belonged here, or at least had been here enough times to be comfortable. May watched as she strolled up to the front desk, leaning against it like she had done so a hundred times before.
“Hey, Smitty, is Lucy here?” she asked, her tone light and familiar.
The officer barely looked up. “Devil’s spawn, Chen’s still out. Should be back soon. You can wait here.”
The girl let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes but making no further comment. Instead, she turned away from the desk, her gaze lazily sweeping over the waiting area.
May panicked and quickly looked down at her phone, pretending to be deeply engrossed in whatever app she had opened. Instagram, apparently. She scrolled mindlessly for half a second, then closed it again, realizing she hadn’t actually looked at anything.
Before she could decide on a new distraction, someone dropped into the seat next to her.
“Hi, I’m Tamara,” came a voice—smooth, casual, with just the faintest hint of amusement.
May blinked, her brain stalling as she processed the fact that the pretty girl was talking to her.
“Uh… May,” she croaked out, wincing at her own awkwardness.
Tamara gave her a small, knowing smile, and—God, why was her smile so cute? Those little dimples shouldn't be allowed.
“Nice to meet you, May.” She extended a hand, and May hesitated for only a second before shaking it.
Tamara’s hand was warm, her grip firm but relaxed.
“So,” Tamara continued, stretching out her legs and crossing them at the ankles, “what brings you to our lovely, state-funded waiting room?”
May let out a short, exasperated breath. “I, uh… I witnessed an accident. A hit-and-run. The cops wanted my statement, and now they won’t let me leave.”
Tamara made a face, scrunching up her nose. “Oof. That sucks.”
May let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
Tamara studied her for a second, tilting her head slightly. “So you just… got caught up in it? Wrong place, wrong time?”
“Pretty much,” May said, shifting in her seat. “I was literally just coming out of Starbucks, minding my own business, and boom—suddenly I’m a witness in a criminal investigation.”
Tamara chuckled. “Damn. And here I thought my day was annoying.”
May raised an eyebrow. “Why? What happened to you?”
Tamara sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “Oh, you know. The usual. Some drama with friends, people getting on my nerves, waiting around in places I really don’t want to be.” She gestured vaguely to the station. “I swear, I’ve spent way too much time in this building.”
May frowned. “Are you a cop’s kid or something?”
Tamara snorted. “God, no.” Then she smirked. “Why? Do I look like a cop’s kid?”
May shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious. “I don’t know. You just seem… comfortable here.”
Tamara gave her a knowing look. “Yeah, well. When come from low places, you get familiar with places like this.”
May hesitated. “That sounds… ominous.”
Tamara laughed. “Relax, I’m not some hardened criminal.”
“I didn’t say you were,” May shot back, but she felt herself smiling.
Tamara grinned. “Good. ‘Cause if I were a criminal, I wouldn’t just admit it to some random cute girl sitting next to me in a police station.”
May’s brain short-circuited for a second. Did she just call me cute?
She quickly looked away, trying to pretend she wasn’t suddenly hyper-aware of Tamara’s presence. “Right. That would be stupid,” she said, hoping she sounded normal.
Tamara hummed in agreement, still smiling. “So, how long have they been keeping you here?”
May checked the time on her phone. “Over an hour now.”
Tamara clicked her tongue. “That’s ridiculous. You’re a witness, not a suspect.”
“Yeah, well, tell them that,” May muttered, nodding toward the front desk.
Tamara tapped her fingers against her knee, looking thoughtful. Then, suddenly, she straightened up. “Wait. I might be able to help.”
Before May could ask what she meant, Tamara was already on her feet, striding confidently toward two officers who had just walked in—a brunette woman and a blond guy.
“Lucy, Tim, I need a favor,” she said, her tone shifting slightly, like she knew exactly how to handle them.
May strained to hear the rest of the conversation, but whatever Tamara said, it worked fast. Within ten minutes, an officer approached her, told her she was free to go, and just like that, she was standing outside, blinking at the late afternoon sunlight.
She turned to Tamara, still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. “Hey—thank you. Seriously.”
Tamara flashed another one of those unfairly cute smiles. “No problem. See you around.”
And with that, she turned and walked back toward the two officers—who, May now realized, were no longer in uniform.
May hesitated, watching her for a moment. She almost called after her—almost asked how exactly they were supposed to “see each other around” in a city this big. But the words felt too silly.
Instead, she took a deep breath, turned, and walked away, still thinking about that damn smile.