Morning! Who is ready to officially meet our drunk girl?

5

2:53 a.m.

I call dispatch to let them know I'm taking care of this girl and then heading off duty. Thankfully, because all my paperwork is taken care of, it's easy to head into the end of my shift. When I'm done, I turn back to the girl who has plopped herself on the curb beside my squad car. She's singing Don't Stop Me Now by Queen. It's a surprising but welcome choice, as that's my favorite Queen song.

"Miss," I say, trying to get her attention.

"I'm floating around… in ecstasyyyyy," she sings, leaning back. Despite how drunk she is, she's a pretty good singer.

But I still don't know her fucking name.

"If you want a ride home," I say, squatting in front of her. "You have to tell me your name."

She stops singing, her eyes blinking as they focus on me.

"Hey, you're hot."

I bite back a smile. She's said this no less than three times now.

"Thank you."

She is too, despite the fact that she's mildly pissing me off. She's gotta be the most unfocused drunk person I've ever met.

"What's your name?"

She giggles.

"Isabella," she sings. "But you can call me Bella when you're moaning it."

Good fucking god.

I clear my throat, my shirt collar feeling a little too tight all of a sudden.

"Isabella," I start, and she giggles.

"No one calls me Isabella."

I can't keep up with her, but her laughter is such a sweet sound, it's hard not to smile at her.

"Well, I'm not moaning," I point out. She snickers.

"I can fix that," she says, trying to wink at me. Both her eyes squeeze shut, her nose scrunching and I have to hide my smile.

"Where do you live?"

"Living on my ownnnnn," she sings, picking up another Queen song.

"Bella," I say, trying to get her attention. She opens her eyes and looks at me.

"Yeah, like that, but now enjoy it more."

I shake my head. "Where do you live?"

She snickers. "Somewhere. I don't remember."

Fantastic.

"Where do you want me to take you?"

"Right here," she says, patting the grass behind her. God, she's got a one track mind.

"Bella, I'm trying to take you home."

She sighs. "I'm thirsty."

I nod, climbing to my feet. I have a few spare water bottles in the car, and I grab one, bringing it out to her. I hand her the bottle, but after she just stares at it, I sigh, reaching for it back. I crack it open and then hand it to her again. I watch her closely as she drinks, making sure she doesn't choke.

She downs about half the bottle before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Good soup," she says, nodding slowly.

I roll my eyes.

Short of frisking her for her ID, there isn't much I can do as I wait for her to tell me where she lives. Since I'm nearly off my shift anyway, I take a seat next to her on the curb.

"I'm burning through the sky, yeahh…" she sings, her voice getting a little heavy.

"200 degrees," I sing along. Her eyes fly open and she looks at me. An absolutely breathtaking smile steals over her face.

"That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit!" she sings, practically shouting. I laugh, and she starts giggling. We sit on the curb, singing bad karaoke to one of my favorite songs. It's a surprising, but welcome turn of events.

I haven't had this much fun in years.