On the day of my blind date, I got pulled over for speeding.

It was pretty clear that my blind date was going to be a bust. I cried, and in a moment of desperation, I clung to the insanely handsome officer in front of me and demanded he take responsibility.

The officer raised an eyebrow and asked, "How do you want me to take responsibility?"

I batted my eyelashes and grinned, saying, "Be my boyfriend!"

1

After two years of hard work, I finally got my driver's license!

To celebrate, my mom set up a blind date for me.

She told me the guy was 6.1 feet tall, had legs that went on forever, chiseled abs I could count, and looked so good he'd make me gasp. He was a top-tier catch.

When I heard this, I was thrilled. The speed limit was 45 mph, but I drove at 60 mph towards the restaurant where we were supposed to meet.

Before I got halfway there, a patrol car was hot on my tail, chasing me down for a few miles before finally pulling me over.

A tall, striking officer stepped out of the patrol car and made his way toward my vehicle.

This officer was seriously good-looking.

I'd been nervous about my first-day driving and now found myself distracted by his good looks.

For a moment, I felt a sudden impulse to shift my romantic focus.

Hearing that my blind date was supposed to be a top-notch guy made me feel excited, which I guess counted as a romantic focus, right?

As the officer approached, I couldn't wait to roll down my window and greet him, "Hey, officer, what's up?"

He then gave a formal salute and asked for my driver's license.

Upon seeing it, he said, "First day with a license, huh?"

I blinked and asked, "Isn't it okay to drive on the first day?"

The officer handed my license back and said, "Well, your speed is definitely not okay."

I took a second to process his words and then got a bit annoyed. "Wow, you're good-looking, but your words are sharp."

I thought, "Seriously, how could he be so blunt with a pretty girl?"

The officer, however, remained calm and motioned to the speed limit sign ahead. "This road has a 45 mph limit, and you were speeding. I'm issuing you a 200-buck fine and three points on your license."

The fine was annoying, but points were a deal-breaker.

I quickly switched from my earlier attitude and began to plead with him.

Without a hint of sympathy, he pulled out a breathalyzer and asked me to blow into it. "Please cooperate."

I was left speechless.

Half an hour later, I found myself in the nearest public hospital.

I'd been caught driving under the influence just because I had a couple of lychees before driving.

When the breathalyzer showed a blood alcohol concentration of 0.25%, I was stunned.

I insisted I hadn't been drinking, but the officer remained unconvinced.

My top-tier blind date was waiting, so I was panicking.

I begged the officer to let me go to my date first and return to the hospital later, but he remained firm and wouldn't let me leave.

I was frustrated, sensing that my date was slipping away, and this time, it would definitely be a no-show.

While we waited for the results, the mean officer typed away on his phone and took a call.

He mentioned he would get there as soon as possible before hanging up.

It looked like he was in a hurry, too. I muttered, "Serves you right," under my breath.

But, I had to admit, the side profile of the officer was also incredibly attractive.

I was once again mesmerized by his looks. It seemed I was really starting to have a change of heart.

Twenty minutes later, the results were in.

The evidence was clear—I hadn't been drinking.

The officer apologized and reminded me to pay the fine before leaving.

He told someone to bring my car over and then made his exit.

This had already cost me an hour, and waiting for someone to bring my car over meant my blind date was almost certainly going to be a bust.

Since it would go sideways, determined to pin it on the handsome cop, I wasted no time chasing after him.

As he got into his car, I flung open the passenger door and slid in beside him.

"You've wasted so much of my time, so as compensation, you're taking me to the Queenston Restaurant on Bellen Road right now, and then you'll drive me to get my car."

The cop was initially taken aback, but my bluntness soon had him laughing. "Ms. Ashcroft, if you don't mind me asking, where exactly are you from? A village of upstarts?"

His laughter caught me off guard, and I didn't quite catch his words, so I cleared my throat and asked, "What did you just say?"

The cop buckled his seatbelt, his expression returning to its neutral state as he started the car. "I strongly suggest you pick up 'The Story of My Life,' 'Who Moved My Cheese,' and 'The Red and the Black' when you get back. They might do you some good."

I was speechless.

I suspected he was hinting at something, but I hadn't read those books, so I couldn't offer any evidence.

Eventually, for reasons I couldn't fathom, he drove me to the Queenston Restaurant.

To make sure he didn't slip away, I grabbed a set of keys from the center console before getting out of the car. I flashed him a smile and said, "Don't even think about sneaking off before you take me to get my car. Also, I've noted your badge number, 360922, and if you leave, I'll file a complaint."

The badge number was easy to remember; the last four digits were my birthday.

Was this fate or what?

With this little joy in mind, I turned and darted into the restaurant like a little rabbit.

It was already past one in the afternoon, and only a few tables were occupied.

Following my mom's description, I searched around and finally zeroed in on a guy in a T-shirt sitting by the window.

He was tall and burly—he matched the description perfectly.

Though, I had to admit, his appearance left something to be desired.

My resolve to move on grew stronger.

Still, I had to go through the formalities. Otherwise, it'd be hard to explain.

So I put on my sunglasses, walked up to him with as much grace as I could muster, and tilted my chin with an air of superiority. "Mr. Quentin, sorry I'm late.

"To save us all time, let me be clear: you're not my type, so there's no chance here."

The guy looked up at me, utterly dumbfounded.

Just as I wondered if I hadn't been clear enough, a woman suddenly stormed over, shoved me aside, and began laying into him with a barrage of questions.

I was taken aback. I didn't expect him to be a scumbag who was trying to juggle two relationships.

Just as I was about to make a dramatic scene by throwing juice at him, I caught the woman shouting his name, "Barry Allen."

I thought, "Barry Allen?

Why is his last name Allen and not Quentin?"

The next moment, the classic scene of drama unfolded perfectly.

The cold, damp feeling on my face and chest interrupted my racing thoughts.

As the woman raised her hand to slap me, a strong arm suddenly wrapped around my shoulder from behind.

I was pulled back and found myself nestled against a solid chest.

Looking up, I saw the cop's striking face once again invade my senses.

I couldn't help but think, "This must be fate!"

Just then, the "jerk" finally stood up and grabbed the woman, saying something surprisingly sensible, "Honey, calm down. This woman probably mistook me for someone else. I'm definitely not Mr. Quentin, okay?"

My mind cleared instantly. I took another good look at the guy, and my embarrassment forced me to smile slightly awkwardly.

I said, piecing it together, "Wait a minute. Aren't you the guy Amanda set me up with for this blind date?"

"Of course not! I don't know anyone named Amanda, and my last name isn't Quentin. Next time, make sure you've got the right person before you start causing a scene. Otherwise, you might end up with acid thrown in your face. Got it, miss?"

I was stunned by his reprimand. Before I could react, the man had already wrapped his arm around the fuming woman and walked off.

That was when I remembered that woman had ruined my thousand-dollar white dress, and I hadn't even gotten a word in about it.

"Hey, you two, wait up!"

I spun around to chase after them, but just as I took a step, my purse strap tightened, and I was yanked back in front of the police officer.

"What's this? Not happy with the way things went and thinking of chasing after them for more trouble?"

I twitched my mouth, asking, "More trouble? Are you kidding? That guy was a total reject, not even close to the 'prize' I was expecting."

"Then why try to chase them down?"

"Because that woman ruined my dress! It's worth a thousand bucks, just bought it yesterday, and she didn't even apologize. What do you expect me to do?"

I pointed angrily at my dress, and the officer followed my gesture.

The next second, his face turned red, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"I think the most important thing right now is not to chase them but to go back and change into something else."

I frowned, suspicious, and glanced down.

The wet fabric clung to my chest, and the pink lace bra was visible through the thin material. My face flushed with embarrassment.

I thought, "Damn that woman, she was so calculating, throwing the drink not just on my face but on my chest!"

"Ah!" I gasped, clutching my chest and turning my back to the officer. "Did you... did you see all that?"

The whole scene mortified me.

I thought, "Can I just disappear right now?

Hmm, why is he so quiet?"

I turned around, only to find he was gone.

Just like that, he had vanished.

Suddenly, my phone rang in my bag.

I fumbled to get it out while still covering my chest.

It was my mom calling. The embarrassment of earlier came rushing back. I answered the call, seething, "Mom, where's the guy Amanda set me up with?

"I didn't even see the guy at the restaurant. That Amanda's introduction was completely unreliable.

"Can we just learn from this and stop setting me up with blind dates? Can we?"

There was a long silence on the other end, and then came my mom's counterattack.

"Don't tell me you're just now arriving!"

I was speechless.

Amidst my mother's scolding, I defiantly protested, "Mom, can you ease up? It's like you think I can't find a man on my own. Do you believe I will bring a husband home next month?"

My mom's response was dismissive. "Yeah, right."

She then hung up the phone with a finality that left me fuming.

I thought, "So, that's the game she's playing, huh? Prodding?

Fine, she won this round."

At that moment, the officer reappeared.

He was holding a white shirt and handed it to me. "Here, put this on."

A huge smile spread across my face.

He was truly the kind of guy who could win anyone over—cold on the outside but warm-hearted with a hero complex. I was falling for him hard.

I'd be doing a disservice to the 200 bucks and those 3 points if I didn't take this gem home.

I made an effort to suppress my swooning and took a deep breath, only to burst into tears the next second.

I said, pulling the shirt over my head and sobbing, "It's all your fault! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have missed my perfect blind date, gotten humiliated, or had a drink thrown at me. And my mom's furious.

"She said if I don't bring a husband home next month, she'll cut me off. I'm really in a terrible spot."