bad intentions - tim bradford x oc x john nolan

three

Numbness enveloped her as she reclined in the leather seat of John's truck, the silence between them heavy since their departure from campus. Her hands trembled uncontrollably beneath her thighs, gripping the denim fabric for some semblance of stability. John's occasional glances, laden with concern and a tinge of guilt, didn't go unnoticed. He respected her need for space, yet the air was thick with unspoken words.

Upon reaching the station, John parked the car, and reality snapped back into focus for her. The car door swung open, and she felt herself being guided out and towards the imposing structure of the police station. The building loomed over her, its gray facade and darkened windows casting a menacing shadow.

As they entered the station, she could feel the weight of curious and pitying stares. The whispers of the officers and the scent of coffee and cigarettes filled the air, intensifying her desire to disappear.

A voice cut through the murmurs, and she turned to see a man with striking blue eyes, his rugged charm sending a wave of nervous intrigue through her. His smile, though not reaching his eyes, was disarming. "Hey, Nolan, who's this?" he inquired.

The unnamed man's gaze lingered on Genevieve a moment too long, his eyes tracing the contours of her form before meeting hers. There was an unspoken challenge in his stare, a silent question that hung in the air between them.

John introduced her, "This is Genevieve, Henry's girlfriend. She witnessed the shooting at UCLA. She's here to give her statement."

The man's demeanor shifted subtly, the playfulness in his expression giving away to something more serious. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said, his voice low and resonant. "Are you alright?"

She managed a nod, feeling the intensity of his concern. It was disarming, and she found herself momentarily lost for words, caught in the gravity of his attention.

John's hands rested on her shoulders, his eyes searching hers with palpable worry. "I need to speak with Sergeant Grey. Will you be alright here for a moment?" His concern was evident, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress.

"I can keep an eye on her," The man offered, his voice carrying a note of protectiveness that surprised her. It was a simple statement, but it resonated with an undercurrent of something more, a subtle assertion of his willingness to be there for her.

John looked to her for confirmation, and she nodded, her eyes briefly meeting the man's once more. There was a silent acknowledgement, an understanding that passed between them in that glance.

As John walked away, the space he left was filled by the man's presence. She was acutely aware of him, of the strength in his frame and the intensity in his eyes. He cleared his throat, a soft sound that seemed to echo in the quiet of the station.

"I'm Tim, by the way. Tim Bradford," he introduced himself, extending a hand towards her. As she accepted the handshake, a surprising current seemed to pass between them, an unexpected charge from the simple contact. His hold was firm, conveying a warmth that lingered in her palm even after they let go.

"Genevieve-, which John already said that, sorry. It's, uh, nice to meet you." Genevieve stammered, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and something else she couldn't quite place.

"Likewise," Tim replied, his voice smooth, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that seemed to see right through her. "So, you're Henry's girl?" he asked, an eyebrow arching ever so slightly.

"Yup, that's me," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper, puzzled by the emphasis he put on 'Henry's girl.'

"Interesting," Tim murmured, his eyes never leaving hers, a hint of something unreadable in his tone.

"What?" Genevieve pressed; her curiosity piqued by his cryptic response. "Wh-What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," Tim said with a casual shrug, but the smirk that tugged on the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise. He turned away, leaving her words hanging in the air.

Genevieve followed after him, her steps hesitant. "Wait-- hey! You can't just say that and walk away."

"Can't I?" Tim's voice was teasing, his back to her as he continued to walk away, the smirk still playing on his lips.

Before she could respond, John's voice called out to her, pulling her attention away. She turned to find him gesturing from the bottom of the stairs. Tim had disappeared into the crowd.

With a sigh, she joined John, climbing the stairs to a small office. Inside, John's demeanor was all business. "Genevieve. I need you to recount everything from today, every small detail matters," he instructed, his voice steady and calm.

She took a deep breath, the events of the day spilled out. John listened intently, his face a mask of professionalism, giving nothing away. It was almost a relief, his detachment providing a barrier against the raw emotions she felt.

When her account was complete, John's expression softened. "Thank you, Genevieve. You've been very helpful," he said, his voice gentle.

He stood, offering his hand, and as she took it, the floodgates opened. Tears streamed down her face, and John's arms came around her in a comforting embrace. She clung to him, seeking solace in the midst of chaos.

After a moment, he stepped back, his hand on her shoulder. "Let's find Henry," he said, leading her from the room.

As they descended the stairs, Genevieve's eyes met Tim's once more. His smirk was a silent challenge, and she met it with a glare. But her focus shifted quickly as she spotted Henry, her heart aching with a mix of relief and dread.

Relief washed over Henry's features as his gaze found Genevieve at the bottom of the stairs. A tentative smile graced her lips, and without hesitation, he closed the distance between them, his arms enveloping her in a protective embrace. Their lips met in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, her hands finding solace around his arms. The taste of mint and coffee lingered between them, and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart against her own.

Overwhelmed, Genevieve pulled back, her gaze falling to the floor as she tried to process the rush of emotions.

"God, I'm so happy you're okay. I was terrified," Henry confessed, his voice thick with emotion as he cradled her face in his hands. "I love you so much."

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she assured him, even as another kiss landed softly on her cheek. Henry's attention briefly shifted past her, acknowledging Tim and John with a grateful nod.

"Thank you," he said simply, the depth of his gratitude evident in his voice.

John returned the nod, his eyes meeting Genevieve's with a smile that offered comfort and understanding in the midst of chaos.