Chapter 7
I’m still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, barely keeping pace with Mina’s rapid-fire questions as she drives me to work. I’m not even fully awake, and she’s already on a roll, impatient as ever and dying to know what happened last night.
“Wait, go back. So you had drinks with your boss?!” Her eyebrows shoot up with dramatic flair.
I offer a tired smile. “It wasn’t like that. We didn’t go together. I went, and he happened to show up after.”
“Uh huh,” Mina says, unconvinced.
I whip my head towards her. “I’m serious! And then he gave me a ride home,” I blurt, hoping the explanation will satisfy her.
“Well, I hope you thanked the man properly,” she teases, her voice dripping with innuendo. Before I can reply, she adds with a wink, “Any other rides you got last night you wanna tell me about?”
I wince, knowing there’s no sidestepping this one.
“Other than that?” I pause as I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Just the one in my dream last night.” My face twists up into a grimace, the memory still fresh and mortifying.
I rush on, desperate to reclaim some dignity. “I had a sex dream about my boss. I know, I know! You don’t have to tell me—“
“Avery Elizabeth!” she interrupts, delight and shock mingling in her voice. Her eyes widen, and she lets out a laugh that’s more of a cackle. “You dirty girl! Tell me everything!”
“Absolutely not.”
I fold my arms, pretending firmness, though I can feel the heat spreading to the rest of my body. There’s a moment of silence, a standoff between my embarrassment and her insistence.
I cave first.
“But just know I had to take a very cold shower this morning.”
“So what about Nash?” she asks.
“What about him?” I feign ignorance, but Mina’s sharp gaze tells me she’s not buying it.
“Is he still in the picture?”
She already knows the answer. She just wants to hear me say it.
“What picture, Mina? There is no picture.” My voice climbs an octave, betraying me. “There is only my job where I work with two ridiculously sexy men who I definitely don’t think about outside of our very professional workplace relationships.”
“Soooooo…” Her voice stretches, inviting me to fill the silence with a confession.
“Yes, he’s still in the nonexistent picture.” I sigh, exasperated but amused by her persistence. “When I got back to the office from court yesterday, there were two dozen red roses on my desk with a card.”
I can still picture the vibrant blooms, a splash of color in my otherwise muted office.
“It didn’t have a name, but I know they were from him.”
Mina gasps and clutches the steering wheel tighter. “What did the card say?”
“It said, ‘Have dinner with me.’”
The words were simple but bold, and I can’t help remembering the way my heart skipped when I first read them.
“Ohmygod, you have to have dinner with him!” Mina practically squeals.
“No, I definitely don’t.” I shake my head, pretending I’m more certain than I feel. “I can think of about a hundred things I have to do, and that’s not one of them.”
“Just have dinner with the guy. What could it hurt?”
“My career?” I shoot back, the words tasting defensive. “How do you think it’d look for me to be dating my paralegal?”
I can imagine the whispers, the sly looks over coffee breaks.
“I’m sure if I were a man, nobody would bat an eye, but I’m not. There would be judgement, lots of it.” I hear the desperation creeping into my voice, all my fears ballooning up into a single breath.
“Who’s gonna know?” she counters smoothly, a grin tugging at her lips.
“Ugh, you sound like Nash.”
She cuts her eyes at me. “I knew I liked him. Look, I know you have this whole thing about dating coworkers since Pierce, and I get it,” she persists, gentle yet unyielding. “But it feels like you’re still letting him hold you back.”
Her words pinpoint me with unsettling precision. I swallow hard, trapped in her all-too-accurate assessment.
“These men are not Pierce,” she continues, relentless in a way only a friend can be. “And you want both of them, so what’s really holding you back?”
I hesitate, unable to meet her eyes. The truth sits like a lump in my throat. “I just don’t want to get hurt again.” The admission lands heavily between us.
“Aw, Ave…” Her voice softens as it curls around my nickname. “Sometimes you have to risk it for the biscuit, as they say,” she says with a laugh.
I sink lower into the passenger seat, exhausted already from the day that hasn’t even started. “Since when have you ever said that?”
“Since now, apparently.” She playfully nudges my shoulder, her eyes a mix of sympathy and exasperation, the kind you can only muster for someone who keeps getting in their own way. “But seriously. Stop overthinking it for once and just do what feels good. You deserve to be happy.”
Her words hang between us, mingling with the sound of the car engine and the persistent hum of my doubts. I stare out the window, watching the city blur by, wondering how long I’ll keep punishing myself for Pierce’s choices.
My pulse races with every step toward my office, Mina’s words echoing louder in my mind than the click of my heels against the marble floor. I don’t even have time to take a breath or gather my thoughts before Nash appears in my office with a coffee, his grin too wide for the frame.
“Morning, counselor,” he says with an air of confidence that feels like a challenge. “I see you got my flowers. So what’s the verdict?”
“Very funny, Nash,” I retort, making my voice as steady as possible. “Maybe if this job doesn’t work out, you can have a successful career in comedy.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nash’s grin widens. “But then I wouldn’t be able to see you every day.”
His warmth is infectious, the smile on my lips difficult to disguise. I sigh and take my time settling in, each movement a tiny rebellion against how flustered I feel.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say, hanging my coat with deliberate slowness. “It’s messy.”
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I like messy.”
I roll my eyes, unable to fully conceal my amusement. “I’m sure you do.”
Nash cocks his head, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “What’s the worst that could happen? We decide not to see each other again and go back to being coworkers?”
He pushes away from the door, taking a step closer, crowding the room with his presence.
I can feel my resolve slipping, so I pretend to examine some documents. Anything to avoid making eye contact with him.
“You’re going to be a total nightmare until I say yes, aren’t you?”
He puts a hand over his heart, his playful grin slipping into an exaggerated pout. “More like an adorable nuisance,” he protests, arching an eyebrow in mock offense. Every word is designed to disarm, to draw me closer to the edge of my carefully constructed defenses.
I let out a reluctant laugh, the sound of my enjoyment betraying me. Mina’s words replay in my head.
“Stop overthinking.”
“Do what feels good.”
“You deserve to be happy.”
And suddenly I’m giving in, almost against my better judgment. “Fine,” I say, my voice lingering between acceptance and caution. “I will have dinner with you but,” I pause to reclaim an ounce of control, “it has to be lowkey. No one can know about this.”
Nash’s eyes light up. There’s a spark of triumph there that he doesn’t bother concealing. “I think I have the perfect idea.”
I narrow my eyes, unsure if I trust the gleam I’m seeing. “Lowkey, Nash,” I warn, the words carrying a weight of unspoken conditions.
“Scout’s honor.” He holds three fingers up.
I arch an eyebrow. “Were you ever actually a Boy Scout?”
“Nope.” His laughter is a low rumble, the kind that wraps around the room and settles comfortably between us. “I’ll text you with the details, yeah?”
“How are you gonna text me when you don’t have my number?” I challenge, pushing back with the last shred of resistance I can muster.
He smirks, leaning across my desk with a confidence that borders on arrogant. His hand finds a sticky notepad and tears off a sheet. Then, in one smooth motion, he grabs a pen from the chaos on my desk and holds it out to me, a silent dare that I’m almost too willing to accept.
I stare him down for a moment and then take the pen, writing my number on the sticky note. I hand it over to him with a pointed look. Nash reaches to take it, our fingers brushing, but I hold firm, matching his gaze.
“Lowkey, Nash,” I repeat, my voice layered with a fierceness, “or so help me God, I will bury you up to your eyeballs in busywork.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, flashing one last mischievous smile as he backs out of my office.
I stare at the empty doorway, heat rising to my cheeks as I turn back to my desk.
I try to lose myself in the comforting rhythm of work, the shuffle of papers, the click of my keyboard, but thoughts of Nash keep bleeding through.
His grin, his persistence, the ease with which he slipped under my skin.
I can’t help but imagine our dinner, and I’m excited.
And then there are the stolen glances across to James’s office. Each time, my gaze lingers a little longer, searching for some sign that he knows. Like he can read my thoughts.
He sits at his desk, deep in discussion with one of the other attorneys. There’s a steady confidence in the way he moves, a quiet magnetism that draws me in before I can stop myself.
Sometimes, he looks back. I don’t know if he notices the way my breath hitches when our eyes meet, or if he’s simply taking note of my existence as part of the firm’s living inventory.
The memory of my dream with James flashes in my mind, all heat and hunger, the kind of dream that leaves you shaken long after you wake.
It feels like a warning.
I shudder and force myself back to the brief in front of me.
By late afternoon, I’ve made a dent in my to-do list, though my nerves are fried from the effort. I’m staring blankly at a contract when I hear a light knock on my door.
“Got a minute?” James asks, the formality in his voice making the question sound more like a command.
“Of course,” I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral as I motion him in.
He steps into my office, and my heart thumps.
There is a moment, a tiny lag, as I scramble to convert my private chaos into something resembling professional composure. He pauses on the threshold, eyes cool but sharp, taking in the mess of paperwork scattered across my desk and the half-drained coffee I’d meant to swap out hours ago.
“Some of us are cutting out early for happy hour. Might be a good opportunity for you to get to know the other attorneys.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised and maybe a little too eager. I scramble to cover my enthusiasm. “Sure, I guess I could come for a bit.”
He nods, satisfaction flickering briefly in his eyes before he turns to leave. “Murph’s, four o’clock. It’s a well-frequented attorney bar down the street.”
“I’ll be there,” I say with a soft smile.
The door clicks shut, and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My thoughts are a jumble of possibilities and what-ifs.
I reach for my phone, hesitating before texting Mina.
Going to happy hour with some coworkers. Pray for me. Also, maybe show up and save me? James said it’s a bar lots of attorneys go to!
Mina
Is it Murph’s? I love that place!
That’s the one!
Mina
I’ll meet you there :)
I pack up for the day, my movements quick, trying to beat my nervousness. It’s almost four, and I’m already thinking about how to pace my two-drink max when I notice James is still in his office. The other attorneys have left, but there he is, reviewing documents with his usual intensity.
I linger for a moment, watching the way he works, and when he looks up, our eyes meet briefly. He gives me a nod, a small, knowing smile that sends my pulse into a sprint. I lift my hand in an awkward wave, then tear myself away and head to the elevator.
As the doors slide shut, my watch pings. I glance down and see a text from an unknown number. I pull my phone out of my bag to read the message.
Unknown
6PM tomorrow. 4266 Halston Ave. Save my number as something cute ;)
I don’t respond, but I can’t stop smiling. I save his number under “Trouble” because that’s exactly what he is and tuck my phone away, the elevator doors opening with a soft chime as I reach the parking lot.
I duck into my car, the seatbelt a familiar hug as I start the engine. The radio comes to life with a burst of music that fills the space around me and helps drown out my thoughts as I put my car in drive and head to the bar.