Chapter 38 #2
He’s like a puppy among dobermans: frustrating yet oddly intoxicating.
I open the courthouse doors; he follows, hands in pockets, eyes scanning the fluorescent halls with the excited confusion of someone who has lived in stories and now steps into one.
I like watching him see things for the first time… so to speak.
He shivers off the rain with a quick flick of his head, sending droplets arcing onto the tile.
The security guard glances at us both, seemingly thinking: why is a supermodel here, and why is he with Minji Lee, who usually has the company of angry ex-wives and the ghosts of her ambitions?
I want to roll my eyes, but I let Aaron take the lead as we slip into the security line, which is moving slowly thanks to the early-afternoon rush.
The guard grumbles, the woman ahead mutters about being late for her divorce, and Aaron just stands there, smiling at how absurd it all is.
We navigate through security, badge in, and I head towards the elevators alongside Aaron, who floats at my side.
He doesn’t inquire about the day’s cases or try to motivate me like a coach; he simply stays present, humming softly and off-key while I check my phone for courtroom assignments.
I’m accustomed to working alone, wearing a shield of competence that warns, don’t get too close, I might hurt you.
Yet today, that armor feels unnecessary.
Perhaps it’s because he keeps smiling, or because he observes everything like a kid in a candy store.
I do a quick mental inventory: the first case is a custody hearing at 1:15, low stakes unless the father’s lawyer tries something stupid.
Second is a procedural, which should take about as long as it takes to say ‘denied.’ There’s a third one in the afternoon, but that’s technically optional since I’m only there to observe some attorney, so I can blow it off if the rest of the day goes to hell.
We camp outside the first hearing room; Aaron is perched on a bench like a bored but well-mannered teen while I trade last-minute texts with Eliza.
Across from us, the other parties start to arrive.
I brace myself to switch on, to tap into whatever icy current keeps me upright in these situations, but when I look over, Aaron is watching me, attention laser-focused, like I’m the only thing in the room worth seeing.
“What?” I snap.
He just shakes his head with a soft smile. “I like watching you work. I can see you about to transform before my eyes,” he says, and it’s so earnest I have to look away.
“Just remember, don’t draw any attention to yourself,” I remind him.
The hearing blurs together, as they often do.
My client, a thin art teacher, faces an ex-husband who hasn’t paid the mortgage in three years but suddenly talks about “stability” for his child.
The judge, a woman with a deep voice and a fondness for legal puns, manages the proceedings efficiently.
I present my arguments, counter the opposing counsel’s weak claims, and remain unfazed when he alleges my client is ‘emotionally erratic.’ The hearing lasts twenty minutes, but I already sense the outcome before the judge finishes.
We win; my client grips my hand so tightly that I lose sensation in three fingers.
As I stand to leave, Aaron is waiting in the corridor, hands in his pockets, humming the Law and Order theme.
“One down,” he says, falling into step next to me.
“You really sat through the whole thing? I mean, it was only twenty minutes, but still. I thought you would’ve snuck out.”
He shrugs. “You’re a natural. Also, that other guy was the worst. Is it legal to boo in court?”
“Not unless you want to be held in contempt.” I can’t hide my smile.
We move on to the next room, which is smaller and has a mostly paperwork-and-posturing crowd, just as expected.
The other lawyer—who looks like he still gets haircuts at SuperCuts—attempts to introduce new evidence without prior notice.
I find his laziness almost offensive. I object, and the judge agrees with me, resulting in a quick exchange, and I secure the point.
By the time we’re finished, it’s almost three, and I’m borderline hangry.
Aaron is waiting, as always, by the door, arms folded and a look of delighted awe on his face. “That was hot,” he whispers. “It’s something about you taking control that gets me going.”
“We are in public,” I mutter.
“Shall we make a detour to the restroom?” he jokes. Well, I hope he is joking.
Maybe it’s just the endorphins of winning, maybe it’s the knowledge that I didn’t have to perform for him, not really, but I catch myself wanting to be around him for a little longer. We walk out into the lobby, past the metal detector, and out of the courthouse.
Aaron stops just before we head out into the rain again. “What’s the next move, Counselor?”
I’m about to say ‘office’, because it’s my default, but the word tastes sour. I look at him, at his hopeful, ridiculous face, and I decide to try something that isn’t work for once.
“Lunch,” I say. “And then I don’t know? A nap? Your choice.”
His eyes light up like I just handed him keys to the city. “My place is close. Ten minutes tops. We could order in, or I could cook. Or just, you know, exist in the same apartment and mutually ignore each other for a while.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You’re going to cook?”
“Depends on whether you have to go back to the office afterwards… I could make a mean turkey sandwich,” he says, “and if not, I could make ribs, mac and cheese and give you some great dick afterwards.”
“Both options sound tempting, but let’s stick with option one,” I say, taking Aaron’s arm because I want to.
We step out into the drizzle, and his umbrella opens with a magician’s flourish.
By the time we reach the garage, my mood has completely shifted.
I’m still riding the adrenaline from court, but now I feel a subtle anticipation I haven’t allowed myself to experience in a long time.
We get into his car, and he drives with a calm confidence, as though he has nothing to prove.
The ten-minute drive is mostly quiet, yet it feels comfortable.
“Remember this song?” He turns up the volume, and the beginning of ‘Breaking Free’ from High School Musical fills the car. I can’t help but laugh.
“Oh my God, are you serious right now?” I laugh, covering my face with my hands. “High School Musical? That’s what you’re playing?”
Aaron grins, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm. “Don’t act like you don’t remember every word. We watched it together that weekend when you were sick. You were so full of cold medicine and still nailed all of Gabriella’s parts.”
“I was delirious with fever,” I protest, but I’m already humming along. The memory surfaces and floods back in vivid detail.
**Twelve Years Ago**
Senior year, after winter break, I’d been battling a nasty cold for three days but refused to miss my first study group. By evening, I was a walking disaster—nose raw from tissues, eyes watery, and a fever that made the dorm hallway tilt like a funhouse mirror.
I knock on Aaron’s suite door, sniffling pathetically, backpack hanging off one shoulder. When he opens it, his smile immediately transforms into concern.
“Minji? Jesus, you look terrible.” He reaches out to touch my forehead, and I lean into his palm instinctively. “You’re burning up. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“Study group,” I mutter, voice nasal and scratchy. “Economics.”
He ushers me inside, shaking his head. “You should’ve stayed in your room. You need rest, not calculus.”
“Economics,” I correct him, dropping my backpack with a thud. “And I wanted to be with you.”
Aaron’s expression softens. “Come here, you disaster.” He pulls me into his room, tossing textbooks aside to make room for me on the bed. “I’m making you tea, and you’re going to lie down.”
“Will you lie with me?” I pout as he wraps his comforter around my shoulders.
“Of course,” he says, disappearing into the kitchen. Aaron returns from the kitchen with a steaming mug. “Drink this,” he commands, pressing it into my hands. “It’s chamomile with honey and lemon.”
I wrinkle my nose but accept it anyway. “Smells like my grandmother’s closet.”
“That’s how you know it works.” He sits beside me on the bed, his weight creating a dip that pulls me slightly toward him. “I can’t believe you dragged yourself across campus with a fever just for a study group.”
“Worth it,” I mumble, taking a sip and wincing at the temperature. “Besides, my roommate has her boyfriend over. They’re… loud.”
Aaron laughs, the sound vibrating through the mattress. “So I’m your refuge from sex noises?”
“You’re my refuge, period.” The words slip out before my fever-addled brain can censor them. I blame the cold medicine.
His expression shifts, something soft and surprised crossing his face before he covers it with a teasing smile. “Well, I’m honored. Though I’d be more honored if you took better care of yourself.”
I set the mug down on his nightstand and curl deeper into his comforter. “I’m taking care of myself right now. This is self-care.”
“Showing up at my door looking like death warmed over is self-care?”
“Being with you is.” I close my eyes, letting my head fall against his shoulder. “You’re warm. And you don’t judge me when I’m gross.”
“You’re not gross,” he says, his arm slipping around my shoulders. “Just human.”
“A gross human.”
“A cute, gross human,” he corrects, and I feel his lips press briefly against my forehead. “Still feverish. Let me get you some Tylenol.”
When he tries to move, I grab his shirt. “Stay. Please.”
He hesitates, then settles back beside me. “Fine, but only if you promise to actually rest. No economics talk.”
“Deal.” I snuggle closer, feeling the familiar comfort of his body next to mine. We’ve been friends for three years, study partners for two, and something undefined for months now. Neither of us is brave enough to cross the line that would change everything.
“Want to watch a movie?” he asks, reaching for his laptop.
I nod against his shoulder. “Something mindless.”
“I’ve got just the thing.” He pulls up High School Musical with a grin. “Pure cinematic genius.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter, but I’m already smiling.
We’re halfway through the movie when I start singing along to ‘Breaking Free’ in a congested, off-key warble. Aaron joins in, dramatically worse than me, until we’re both laughing so hard I trigger a coughing fit.
“Sorry,” he says, rubbing my back. “Probably shouldn’t make the sick girl laugh.”
“It’s okay.” I wheeze, wiping tears from my eyes. “Worth it.”
When the coughing subsides, I realize how close we are, my head tucked against his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around me. The fever makes everything feel dreamlike, softening the edges of my usual defenses.
“Aaron?” I yawn, looking up at him.
“Hmm?” His eyes are focused on the laptop screen, but I can tell he’s not watching anymore.
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
He glances down. “Always, Honeybee.”
“I like being here with you,” I admit, snuggling closer. “Everything’s better when you’re around.”
I feel his breath catch, just slightly. His hand finds mine beneath the comforter, fingers intertwining with mine. “Same. Now get some sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
As I drift off, I feel his lips press softly against my temple, and I wonder if I’ll remember this moment when the fever breaks. I hope I do.
“Earth to Minji. You still with me?”
I blink, coming back to the present. Aaron’s looking at me expectantly, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching across to squeeze my knee.
“Sorry, just lost in the memory,” I say, feeling my cheeks warm.
“I hope it was a great memory and involved me,” he says, pulling into a parking space outside his building.
I look at him, and suddenly I’m drowning in everything we once were.
“Every memory with you feels like coming home,” I whisper, my voice catching.
“Like finding something precious I thought I’d lost forever.
” My fingers reach for his without permission, tracing the familiar lines of his knuckles.
“We were so young then, weren’t we? When falling asleep in your arms felt as natural as breathing. ”
The streetlight catches in his eyes, and I see the boy who once held me through fever dreams, and when I blink, I see the man sitting across from me, ready to love me with every fiber in his being.
He’s still the same person I’ve always known, just with a few more years of life and a bit more wisdom.