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As days turn into weeks, the office becomes more than a space for legal discussions. Jake and I have conversations effortlessly, transitioning between case details and personal anecdotes. Laughter echoes through the office, breaking down the formalities that once defined our roles.
One day, as we navigate through another case, Jake surprises me with a thoughtful gift.
He hands me a beautifully wrapped package, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Karla, a little something for you. Consider it a token of appreciation for your stellar contributions to our legal escapades."
Intrigued, I unwrap the gift to find a first-edition law textbook. My eyes widen with surprise, and I can't help but chuckle. "Jake, a law textbook? Is this some kind of joke?"
He grins, clearly pleased with his choice. "Well, I thought it suited your nerdy lawyer aesthetic. I figured you'd appreciate it."
Little does he know, that particular textbook held a special place in my heart. I look at him, a genuine smile on my face."Actually, Jake, this is my favorite law textbook. I've always wanted a first-edition."
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and then a sly smile forms on his lips. "Well, consider it an official apology for any sleep-deprived lawyer jokes I might have made. Enjoy your vintage legal wisdom!"
CHAPTER 6
Karla Davies
The days at the office with Jake become more than just legal maneuvers and court briefs. It all starts innocently enough liketwo coworkers grabbing coffee after a tough meeting. I am glad it doesn’t stay that way, though.
"Karla, fancy some coffee? My treat," Jake says, his eyes holding a glint of mischief. His eyes have that glint all the time, which adds to his allure.
Those outings morph into dinners, casual and friendly. We dissect cases over plates of pasta and glasses of wine, our discussions flowing seamlessly from professional to personal.
I discovered Jake's love for classic rock, and he learned about my fondness for indie films. Well, let me correct myself, I teased Jake endlessly about his love for classic rock.
One evening, we find ourselves at a cozy little bookstore, the scent of old paper and ink surrounding us. "Karla, any books you'd recommend?" Jake asks, genuinely curious.
I pick out a novel that has caught my eye. "This one is fantastic. It's got a bit of everything—mystery, romance, you name it." He looks at me with suspicion at first like he’s so sure I will lie to him.
“Are you looking at me because you are a lawyer and you are way too suspicious as a person or is it because…” I don’t know what got into him, but before I know what is going on, he’s running after me and we are tearing down each aisle laughing our hearts out.
He finally catches up with me, but he doesn’t do anything. He just stares at me breathlessly for a minute while I stare at his lips, which are suddenly looking like a feast in the middle of a famine.
I break eye contact, a little scared of what it means.
As we stroll through the aisles, our shoulders brush occasionally, creating a subtle but thrilling connection. Our laughter echoes in the quiet corners of the store as we stumble upon quirky titles and share anecdotes about our favorite reads.
The transition from professional to personal is gradual and yet unmistakable. Our conversations deepen, delving into dreams, fears, and the intricacies of our lives outside the legal battleground. Jake opens up about his childhood adventures, and I share stories about my family's quirky traditions.
“I’d love to meet your family,” Jake tells me, and I look up and think about it for a bit.
“They will be thrilled to meet you, too.”
“Really?” he asks like a little boy whose mother just told him that he could watch TV past dinnertime.
I nod, and he beams.
“I know, I am loveable,” he tries to say cockily, but he’s laughing and it’s infectious, so I am laughing too.
***
One rainy Saturday afternoon, he suggests a spontaneous road trip. "Karla, let's break free from the routine. What do you say?"
The idea is impulsive and exhilarating. We drive through winding roads, raindrops tapping on the roof of the car like a rhythmic melody. The radio plays a mix of our favorite tunes, and the world outside blurs into a canvas of fleeting landscapes.
It isn't until a quiet evening at a charming little café that the unspoken tension between us finds its voice. The atmosphere iscozy, with dim lights casting a warm glow. As we sip our coffees, Jake's eyes meet mine, and a question lingers in the air.
"Karla, there's something I've been wanting to say," he begins, his voice a careful blend of uncertainty and longing.
