"I can't believe my fuckin' luck!"

Ally Cross hopped in her Porsche and revved the engine. The twenty- one year-old turned off the stereo and laid her head against the headrest in defeat. Today had been a rough one. One of the worst all year. The senior Criminal Justice major had gotten a D on her most important mid- term, gotten into a near-fist fight in the student union with a random sorority girl, and to finish off the day, she'd seen her ex-boyfriend, Darryl, kissing all over the beautiful girl that Ally had been dumped for.
"God fucking damn," Ally mumbled. "Shit. I'm definitely going to hell for that one." The petite caramel cutie sighed, threw the shift into drive, and peeled out of the parking lot. Still, she talked to herself. "I mean, it's not like I'm pressed, and I don't even still like his ass, but damn! Did Darryl have to flaunt that girl around campus every single day?" Pulling onto Campus Drive, she turned the stereo back on and began searching through the satellite radio dials for some easy listening. "Hot damn," she said with a smile. "Old school, Jamie Walters, courtesy of 1993." Speeding through the forty-thousand plus student populated campus, Ally ran a few stop signs and sped through a light before pulling onto the ramp for the Beltway.
"If I keep it up like this I'll be back in Columbia in fifteen minutes," the beauty drove dangerously for a few miles, cranking up the radio at every old school tune. As she neared her exit, Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again" came on and Ally nearly lost her mind.
"Here I go again on my OWN!" Ally yelled. Using her fingers as air drums, she closed her hazel eyes and imagined herself in alone in a lake off the coast of Florida. That's when she heard the sirens.

"License and registration please," an irritated officer said. Ally sighed and began searching through her purse for her license. The officer standing at her window was tired. He sighed as he waited for her cooperation.
"Here." Ally said softly. By now the car's engine and stereo were turned off and the coed was as depressed as ever.
"Do you know how fast you were going, Miss.Cross?" The officer looked downward at the license and never looking up.
"No." Ally said softly, never facing the officer. "God, this shit day just keeps getting worse."
"Well, when it rains it pours," the officer said nonchalantly. Ally looked up at the officer. Expecting to see a standard blue and white, the man in front of her wore gray slacks, a white pinstripe shirt, and a gold police shield hanging from a silver chain on his neck. He was very attractive with a nonchalant air about him. He looked about thirty, had short-cut brown hair, and long, thin lips that would probably make a beautiful smile.
"I know I was driving insane back there," Ally admitted. "I'm just so freakin' frustrated. I had a bad ass day."
"You think this is going to get you out of this mess, Miss. Cross?" the officer asked without looking up.
"No. I don't care. Give me the ticket. Whatever."
"You know, I thought you were on PCP or something the way you were driving."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not even a uniform. You tell me what you think it takes for a homicide detective to actually get out of his car and even consider getting involved in a traffic situation?"
"A crazy woman driver who's had one of the worst days in her life, maybe?" Ally fired back. The detective laughed and looked down at Ally for the first time. A tiny smile filled his lips.
"Pretty much." He paused. "Look, beautiful," the detective sighed and leaned into the window casually. "I'm not a traffic cop. I haven't done this kind of street work in years. I prefer to pick up dead bodies, figure out the who-dun-its. It takes a lot to get me out of that cruiser." The detective paused. "I was planning on hauling you in for reckless driving. But now, I'm having a change of heart." The detective softly laughed to himself.
"What?" Ally asked in disbelief. "Seriously?"
"I'm not gonna haul you in." The detective paused. "I'm not even gonna give you a ticket." Then he laughed to himself. "Shit, I don't even have a ticket book. Just know that the way you were driving was seriously reckless and dangerous. You could've killed somebody, including yourself. But considering that you've had a bad day, and I know I had a bad ass day, how about we just call it even?"
"The paperwork alone would take me all night and I'm really not in the mood." the Detective paused again. "Plus, you're beautiful. You seem nice enough. You had a bad day and I don't wanta make it worse. On top of that, I'd feel kinda bad if I made tears come out of those pretty eyes. So, how about this-you drive like a sane person and I go home, fall asleep on my couch alone, and call it a night. How about that?"
"That's cool." Ally paused, smiled, then spoke again. "Falling asleep on the couch alone? Fun life?"
"The joys of bachelorhood." the detective smirked. Finally, he smiled again. "What'd ya say? Drive safely. Call it a gift from the 32nd precinct." the detective handed Ally's license back to her and winked.
"Cool. Have a good night." The detective walked away quickly and a moment later Ally was all alone sitting on the shoulder of the highway. The officer long gone.

".So then, get this, Trace.he just let's me go." Ally told the story of her speeding escapade over Lo Mein and Fried Rice the next day. Ally's best friend Trace, sat across from her at the food court of the Westfield- Annapolis Mall.
"Okay, so wait," Trace began. "You get stopped by a homicide detective for reckless driving and instead of having your ass hauled into jail, he tells you to cool it and have a good night."
"Oh to be you, Miss. thirty-four D breast cup."
"My boobs had nothing to do with it. He didn't even look at me half the time. Plus, I was wearing a jacket."
"Uh huh. I bet he could imagine. Gorgeous ass. You make me sick. If I wasn't your best friend, I'd hate you." Ally made a face and Trace giggled as Trace attempted to eat the last of her lo mein.
"Why'd you get chop sticks anyway?" Ally asked. She stuck her fork in a piece of shrimp and let the juices flow between her lips. "A fork is a helluva lot easier."
"But then it wouldn't be authentic," Trace said nonchalantly. She attempted a second time, this time sending noodles flying across the table.
"Yeah, sure toddler. Authentic food flying beats actual eating any day." Ally rolled her eyes playfully as Trace tried again. Finally the tall, chocolate colored beauty got frustrated and put down her chop sticks.
"So anyway, what are you going to do about the cop?"
"What about the cop?" Ally asked.
"You like him. What are you gonna do about it?"
"Who said I liked him? All I said was he let me off without a ticket."
"Yeah," Trace said sipping her Coke, "but you also said that a, and I quote, 'Tall, sexy, blue-eyed cop pulled you over. That's not how I'd describe any of the fat ass cops that pull me over."
"I didn't say I liked him. Plus, the situation was unique. It stood out in my mind."
"Yeah, okay. His face was unique. The fact that he was a detective was secondary information to that."
"Why are you making an issue where there is none?" Ally asked.
"Cause I know you. You're my best friend. I know when you're hooked on someone. You probably didn't even realize this guy was going to get into your head, but he did. Tell me this, when's the last time you though about Darryl or his new obsession?"

"What's that go to do with anything?"
"Spill it." Trace grinned. "When's the last time?"
"Right before I got pulled over."
"And what did you do last night? After you got pulled over?"

"I ate a salad, watched Bring it On, and went to bed."
"Okay, but what did you dream about?"
"Kicking my best friend's ass for asking so many stupid questions. There's nothing going on in my head. I haven't even thought about the detective or the 32nd precinct."
"32nd precinct huh? Yeah, sure, you haven't thought of him. Please."