The bar down the street from the precinct was already buzzing by the time Riley walked in. The warm, familiar scent of old wood and beer hit her as soon as she stepped inside, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling the space. The lights were dim, giving the place a cozy, laid-back atmosphere, though the energy was anything but relaxed tonight.

It was the Six-Month Rookie Initiation Party, a milestone she, Julie, and Tim had been working toward since day one. After six grueling months on probation under the watchful eyes of their training officers, tonight was their night to let loose, a rite of passage to celebrate making it halfway through their year as rookies.

Riley scanned the room, catching sight of familiar faces. Detective Jackson was leaning against the bar, already in the middle of telling some wild story, his arms waving dramatically to emphasize every detail. Sergeant Donnelly stood near him, a grin tugging at his lips as he listened. Val was at one of the high tables, casually sipping her drink, while Brett and John were deep in conversation with a couple of the other senior officers. She frowned as she saw no sign of Luke, but shook it off as she joined Julie and Tim who were already at a table near the front.

"Ready to get wasted?" Julie grinned, nudging Riley with her elbow.

Riley smirked. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Good," Tim added, lifting his beer, "because I plan on out-drinking both of you tonight."

Riley chuckled, shaking her head. "You always say that, and I always outlast you."

Tim shot her a mock glare, but before he could respond, Sergeant Donnelly's voice cut through the noise.

"Alright, everyone! Can I get your attention for a minute?"

The bar quieted down as all eyes turned toward Donnelly. He stood on top of one of the chairs, holding his drink in the air, looking as authoritative as he did in the precinct.

"I just want to say a few words about our rookies here," he began, nodding toward Riley, Julie, and Tim. "These three have been busting their asses for the last six months, proving they've got what it takes to wear that uniform. They've handled every challenge we've thrown their way, and even though we're only halfway through the year, I can already tell they're gonna be damn fine officers."

A round of cheers and applause erupted around the room. Riley felt a surge of pride, even though she tried to play it cool. This wasn't just another milestone—it was a reminder that she was becoming the cop she'd always wanted to be, despite everything else going on in her life.

"Now," Donnelly continued with a grin, "it's time to really initiate them."

He motioned to the bar where the bartender had set up a row of shot glasses. Three neat rows, each one filled with three different types of liquor.

Riley exchanged a glance with Julie, who looked both excited and mildly terrified.

"Line 'em up!" Donnelly ordered.

The three of them walked up to the bar, the crowd around them cheering and shouting encouragement. Julie, ever the competitor, gave Riley a determined look.

"May the best rookie win."

Riley laughed. "You're on."

"Alright," Donnelly said, grinning wickedly. "On my count, rookies! One... two... three!"

They each grabbed their first shot, downing it as quickly as possible. The burn of tequila hit Riley's throat, but she didn't pause. The second was whiskey, smoother but still hot, and the third—vodka—felt like a punch in the gut. She slammed the final shot glass down, coughing slightly as she wiped her mouth.

The crowd cheered, the noise bouncing off the walls of the small bar.

"Now that you're good and warmed up, mingle a bit!" Donnelly said, clapping them on the back. "But don't get too comfortable. The real fun starts soon."

As the crowd dispersed, Riley turned to Julie and Tim, both of whom were recovering from their own shots.

"Still think you can out-drink me?" Riley teased Tim, nudging him playfully.

Tim grinned, but his eyes were already glazed. "I'm just getting started."

They spent the next hour mingling, catching up with the other officers and swapping stories from their first six months. Brett challenged Riley to a game of darts, and she happily accepted, enjoying the break from the intensity of the job.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Riley teased, twirling the dart between her fingers.

Brett chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I've been ready since you walked in, Torres. Question is, can you handle the pressure?"

"Please," Riley smirked, lining up her shot. "I've got this."

She flicked her wrist and let the dart fly. It sailed through the air and landed solidly in the 18. Not a bullseye, but close enough to make Brett raise his eyebrows.

"Not bad," he admitted, stepping up to the line. "But I think you're getting ahead of yourself."

Riley crossed her arms, leaning against the nearby table, her eyes following his every move. She liked Brett; he was easygoing, never took things too seriously, and had a good sense of humor. After everything she'd been through over the last few months, it felt good to just let loose and be in the moment.

"You talk a big game, but can you deliver?" she teased, watching as Brett lined up his shot.

With a confident smirk, Brett tossed his dart. It hit the board just shy of the bullseye, landing in the 14.

Riley whistled low. "Getting cocky, huh?"

He shrugged, handing her the next dart. "You keep talking like that, you're gonna psych yourself out."

She shook her head, grinning. "Not likely." Riley took a step back, feigning concentration for effect, and then, with a quick flick of her wrist, let the dart fly. This time, it hit dead center. A perfect bullseye.

"Boom!" she shouted, throwing her hands up triumphantly.

Brett groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, alright, you win this round."

"You're damn right I do." Riley laughed, reaching out to grab her drink off the nearby table. "Guess you're buying the next round, huh?"

Brett held up his hands in mock defeat. "Fair's fair. But don't get too comfortable, Torres. You know I was going easy on you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?"

Before Brett could reply, the door to the bar swung open, and Riley glanced over her shoulder to see Luke walking in. His eyes swept the room before landing on her and Brett. For a split second, his gaze narrowed, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

Riley felt an unfamiliar flutter in her stomach, one she quickly pushed down. She had no reason to feel awkward—she was just playing darts, having fun. But there was something about the way Luke looked at her that made her heart race, as if he had some unspoken claim to her time. She tried to ignore it, but his presence was impossible to dismiss.

Brett noticed the look, too, and grinned. "Uh-oh, here comes trouble."

Riley rolled her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on," Brett said, lowering his voice, "don't tell me you haven't noticed the way Maddox stares at you. He looks like he wants to throw me out the window."

"You're imagining things," she muttered, though a small part of her, largely fueled by tequila, whiskey, and vodka, felt a small flutter in her stomach.

Luke sauntered over, his gaze lingering on Riley for a moment before flicking to Brett. "Playing darts, are we, Torres?" His tone was casual, but there was a teasing edge to it.

"Yeah," she replied, giving him a smirk. "Just wiped the floor with Brett, actually."

Luke chuckled, his lips twitching into a smile. "Did you now?"

"Hey, I let her win," Brett said with a wink. "Figured it was only fair."

"Sure you did," Luke said, sarcasm lacing his words. "Anyway, shouldn't you be getting ready for the rookie challenge? Or are you too busy getting hustled?"

Riley shot Luke a look. "Please, if anyone's getting hustled, it's you. You ready to lose tonight?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "You think you can match me, Torres?"

She grinned, taking a sip of her drink. "Guess we'll find out."

Luke shook his head, but there was a warmth in his gaze that made Riley's chest tighten. Brett watched the exchange, clearly amused, but didn't say anything.

"Well, I'm going to get another drink," Brett announced, clapping Luke on the shoulder as he walked past. "Good luck handling her, Maddox. She's a shark."

Before anyone could say anything else, Donnelly called everyone back to the center of the room.

"It's time for the Rookie of the Year tournament!" Donnelly announced, grinning mischievously. "You know the rules—rookies, you'll each receive a list of drinks. Then, we will cuff you to your training officer, and it is your responsibility to make the drinks and deliver them to the correct person."

Riley glanced at Luke, who smirked as he held up the cuffs in his hand, letting them gleam under the bar's neon lights. John stood beside him, equally amused, while Brett grinned mischievously from across the room. Each training officer looked like they had plans to make this night anything but easy.

Donnelly continued. "You then have to deliver all of the drinks to the right people without spilling. Fastest one wins!" Everyone in the bar cheered.

Julie shot Riley a wary glance, her wrist already cuffed to Brett, who looked entirely too comfortable with this. Tim, meanwhile, stood next to John, who was cracking his knuckles with a grin that made Tim visibly gulp.

Luke grinned down at Riley, snapping the cuff onto her wrist with a playful tug. "Don't worry, Torres. I'll go easy on you... maybe."

"Yeah, I'm sure you will," Riley muttered, eyeing the cuffs as they clicked firmly into place. She wasn't sure if she was more nervous about the challenge itself or being stuck handcuffed to Luke for the next however-long-it-took.

Donnelly handed the first list to Tim, who fumbled to read it under the dim light.

"Two beers, a rum and coke, a martini, and an appletini?" Tim grimaced. "What the hell is in an appletini?"

Brett laughed. "Yeah, and you better not mess that up, kid. Someone out there's waiting for their sweet drink."

Julie got the next list, scanning it nervously. "Three shots, one mojito, and... a Long Island iced tea?"

Riley's list was the worst: five complicated cocktails that would involve a great deal of mixing and shaking. She sighed as Luke leaned down to whisper, "Better get started, Torres. We're in a time crunch."

The bartenders had already prepped a section for the rookies, laying out ingredients, glasses, and mixers. Riley groaned. This was going to be a disaster. She wasn't a bartender, but she had to make these drinks, get them to their recipients, and avoid any spills—all while shackled to Luke.

"On your marks..." Donnelly yelled above the chatter, "get set, go!"

The three rookies sprinted around the bar, dragging their training officers along with them. Riley looked at her list. The first order: a margarita. Simple enough, right? She grabbed the tequila bottle, but as soon as she lifted it, Luke tugged his wrist, throwing her balance off just slightly. The bottle wobbled, and she had to steady it before it fell.

"You doing okay there?" Luke asked innocently, leaning his elbow on the bar like he wasn't the one causing all the trouble.

"Great, thanks," Riley muttered, pouring the tequila into the shaker. She added lime juice and triple sec, her movements deliberate and cautious. As soon as she grabbed the shaker, Luke jerked his hand again, nearly making her spill. She shot him another look, but his smirk only widened.

Next: a gin and tonic. Easy. She poured the gin, grabbed the tonic water, and just as she reached for the lime, Luke leaned in like he was going to grab something too, causing their cuffs to jangle and Riley's hand to jerk. The lime rolled off the counter, bouncing onto the floor.

"Oh, my bad," Luke said with mock innocence as Riley nearly dropped a bottle of gin.

"Luke," she hissed, glaring up at him.

He shrugged, feigning innocence. "Just testing your multitasking skills."

Behind her, Tim was already failing spectacularly. John had managed to pull him backward just as he was about to pour a beer, and it splashed everywhere. The group of officers standing by the bar erupted in laughter.

Next to them, Julie and Brett weren't much better. Brett was doing his best to distract Julie by leaning against the bar, blocking her from reaching the ingredients. "You think you can just slide around me, Rookie?" he teased, and Julie, visibly flustered, nearly knocked over her shot glasses.

Riley sighed but kept her cool. She grabbed another lime and dropped it into the glass before placing it on the tray next to the margarita.

The appletini was next—a drink Riley had never even made before. She measured out the vodka and apple schnapps, but as she started pouring, Luke bumped his hip against hers, causing her to spill some of it on the bar.

Luke leaned over her shoulder obnoxiously and whistled. "You sure that's not too much vodka? You're making the drink for someone else, not yourself."

Riley turned to glare at him. "Thanks for the advice," she said through gritted teeth, shaking the drink, yanking Luke's hand back and forth along with hers.

She wiped the spill with the back of her hand and finished pouring the appletini. It looked decent enough, but she could feel her nerves starting to fray. The last two drinks—a rum and Coke and an Old Fashioned—seemed to go smoothly, despite Luke's constant "accidental" tugs and nudges that nearly sent her spilling.

As Riley finished placing the last drink on the tray, she looked around the packed bar. The crowd had grown thicker, bodies moving and swaying to the rhythm of loud music, making it impossible to see where the people she needed to deliver to were sitting.

She sighed, balancing the tray on one hand while holding her list in the other. "I can't even see where half of these people are," she muttered, scanning the sea of heads bobbing under dim lights.

Luke, standing close with his arm still shackled to hers, glanced around too, an amused smirk on his face. "Need a little help there, Rookie?"

Riley turned to him, narrowing her eyes. She hated asking for his help—especially knowing how much he'd enjoy it—but she didn't have many options. "Fine," she grumbled. "Can you boost me up so I can get a look over the crowd?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Boost you up, huh?"

"Yes, boost me up," she repeated impatiently. "Unless you want to be stuck here all night delivering drinks in circles."

He chuckled, giving her a playful nudge with his elbow. "Alright, Torres. Hold the tray steady."

Riley adjusted her grip on the tray, bracing herself as Luke bent down slightly. Before she could get another word in, he grabbed her waist and hoisted her up effortlessly, lifting her into the air as if she weighed nothing. She let out a soft yelp, clutching the tray with one hand while grabbing onto his shoulder for balance with the other.

"Whoa, easy!" Riley said, wobbling slightly as she steadied herself. From this vantage point, she could finally see above the crowd. A few people glanced their way, amused by the sight of the rookie perched in the air, handcuffed to her training officer like some ridiculous circus act.

"See anything yet?" Luke asked, his grip firm and steady despite how precarious the situation was.

Riley scanned the room, spotting the man who ordered the appletini sitting in the far corner, waving his hand lazily. "Appletini guy's in the back corner," she called down to Luke. She craned her neck to the other side of the room, where the detective waiting for his Old Fashioned was sitting near the dartboard. "And the Old Fashioned guy is by the dartboard."

"Alright, down you go," Luke said, lowering her carefully back to the ground. Riley wobbled as her feet hit the floor, adjusting the tray again to keep the drinks from tipping.

"Careful, Torres. Don't want to spill that expensive Old Fashioned," Luke teased, his voice too close to her ear for comfort.

She bit her lip, ignoring him as she made her way toward the first customer. A detective sitting near the dartboard was waiting for his margarita, watching her with a grin. She stepped up, and just as she was about to place the glass down, Luke pulled her hand again, forcing her to catch the drink mid-fall before it hit the table.

The detective chuckled. "Nice catch."

Riley smiled, setting the margarita down with a little more force than necessary. "Enjoy."

Luke, true to his word, made things as difficult as possible. Whenever Riley tried to hand off a drink, he'd move just enough to throw her off-balance, forcing her to juggle the tray to keep everything from tipping over.

"Sorry, Torres, that guy over there looks thirsty," Luke said, pointing to a table on the opposite side of the room, making Riley nearly spill a drink on the floor.

"You're killing me," Riley muttered, balancing the tray with one hand as she handed off a run and coke to a guy sitting at the bar.

From across the room, Tim was being led into more disaster. John was dragging him through the crowd, and Tim tripped over his own feet, nearly taking down a table of off-duty officers. The beer he was delivering sloshed all over the place, and John gave him a rough pat on the back, laughing as Tim tried to apologize.

Julie, meanwhile, was trying to recover from the disaster of her Long Island iced tea. She and Brett were locked in an awkward shuffle, and she kept shooting Riley a look that said, Get me out of here.

She moved on to the next, delivering the gin and tonic to a sergeant at the bar. Luke made her stumble again, and Riley had to twist awkwardly to avoid crashing into another table, all while Luke laughed under his breath.

"You're a natural, Torres," he said sarcastically.

Finally, Riley managed to deliver her last drink—a gin and tonic to a detective in the corner. "Done," she breathed, sagging with relief.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You didn't spill anything, did you?"

Riley shot him a glare. "No thanks to you."

The officers gathered around, clapping and cheering as the rookies returned to the bar, exhausted but victorious. The challenge was over.

"Well done, rookies," John said, giving Julie a pat on the back. "Welcome to the team."

Riley shook her wrist, feeling the cuffs loosen as Luke uncuffed her with a grin. "Not bad, Torres," he said, quieter now. "Not bad at all."

She smirked, rubbing her wrist. "Next time, I'm making you carry the tray."