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Rain fell in big droplets, and the once puffy white clouds darkened as you ran across the street, hovering your arms over yourself not to get wet. The summer humidity stuck to your skin uncomfortably, and you were wearing heels as you sprinted, but soon enough, you got under the canopy safely.
Thunder rumbled from the sky. Soon enough, a sheet of violent rain enveloped the view of the empty streets. You made it out of the chaos just in time. Any longer, and you would’ve had no vision between the storm.
You sighed, leaning on the brick wall next to a fancy bar to catch your breath. Tilting your head down, you saw how soaked you are. The nice dress and heels you bought with your last paycheck were flooded. Not to mention your hair dripped onto the concrete.
You supposed that was what happened when you decided to walk outside because it was nice this morning, and refused a car ride home before checking if there was a damn storm on the way in the evening.
A woman laughed from inside the bar as soft jazz music swooned. You peered through the window while squeezing the water out of your hair.
The whole place was filled with employers and their employees. The men wore black suits while the women wore black dresses. Almost every single person was perfect to a fault. Not a single hair out of place or a plastered smile that was believed to be real.
But, there was that ‘almost’ in the ‘almost every single person’. One man sat by the bar with a scotch in his hand. His eyes appeared tired, his hair was messy, and his suit was still a bit wet. He had no smile on his face—no joy whatsoever. And no one talked to him because of it.
The same woman laughed harder, and when your eyes drifted more to the right, you noticed she wasn’t amused at something someone else was saying. No, she stared directly at you and chuckled some more, with additional people entertained as well.
Your eyes widened as you thought about quickly hiding away, so you wouldn’t be a punchline to the joke, but then you straightened your posture.
You weren’t going to let a bunch of snobs ruin your night. Besides, what else would there be to do? It wasn’t like you could go anywhere in this storm.
Situating your hair and clothes, your high heels clacked as you walked to the door and opened it. Music, warm lighting, and the expensive stench of perfume flooded your senses.
Heads swiveled as you strolled past. In a sea full of Black tie, you stuck out like a sore thumb, bringing the only splash of color. It also didn’t help that most people knew you weren’t a part of whatever business this get-together was for.
Still, you feigned more confidence than you have and searched for an empty seat just to realize the one spot that wasn’t taken was next to the unhappy man at the bar.
You sat there anyway, placing your purse on the counter, running your fingers through your wet hair, and waiting for the bartender to approach you. Unfortunately, the snobby group that laughed at your demise accompanied you instead.
“I don’t remember you from the conference,” the woman said with a pout, tilting her head and trying to act all innocent with two men beside her.
As much as you want to shove this lady away with assertiveness, your apprehension and curiosity showed more.
“I didn’t go to a conference,” you admitted.
“That’s interesting,” the man on the left piped up with wire-frame glasses. “Because this bar is specifically reserved for delegates. So, if you’re not one, we’ll have to ask you to leave.”
You couldn’t help but scoff. “It’s pouring out there. Once the storm dies down, I’ll leave, but for now, I want to have a couple of drinks in peace. I promise, I’ll go afterward.”
The woman shook her head in disbelief, still holding her fake smile. “Wow. Yeah, I can tell you’re not one of us because you have no respect whatsoever. This is an esteemed event we’re having tonight, and you’re ruining it for everyone else.”
You shifted on the seat’s cushion, feeling the rise of embarrassment crawl up your throat. “I’m sorry, but I’m not leaving right now. The storm will only worsen, and it’ll practically be unsafe to be out there in those conditions—”
“Get her out of here,” the woman seethed to the man on the right.
You opened your mouth to defend yourself as her lackey reached his arm to grab you, but the tired man next to you held out his arm to slap him away in the blink of an eye.
Silence lingered between all five of you. Even the music stopped for a moment until a different tune began to play.
“She’s with me,” the man beside you said. His voice was husky and deep—tired, but in an enticing way. “We all got a plus one, didn’t we?”
Your eyes slightly widened at him defending you. You assumed he’d take no part in fighting against his possible coworkers for a random woman who technically was trespassing.
“Plus ones are supposed to get invited,” the left man sneered.
“This is also supposed to be the part of the day where we unwind after being at a damn conference for twelve hours. If there’s a woman out in the pouring rain, even if she’s not a lawyer, you do the respectful thing and let her in anyway.”
Lawyers, huh? This scenario suddenly made 100% more sense.
The woman crossed her arms, her smile finally dropping. “Even if she’s trespassing and breaking a law? You're—” She interrupted herself until her eyes flickered with comprehension. “Oh. Wait, I recognize who you are.”
The man didn’t seem bothered, but your heart raced for him.
“And who am I?” he asked, disinterested, or he dreaded the answer. You couldn’t tell.
“Higuruma Hiromi,” she said. “You’re the defense attorney—the one who always takes on the impossible cases to protect the people who…well, blatantly did the crime.” She laughed, like it was hilarious. “No wonder you’re defending this woman! I just…I feel bad for you. When are you going to realize that some people are not worth defending for?”
The man, Higuruma, studied her with drained eyes. “If that’s the case, then why are you still talking to us like the outcome will be any different?” He grabbed his scotch glass, but didn’t take a sip. “Let her stay.”
The order caused your spine to tingle as you analyzed the group’s expression. The woman took a deep breath before glaring at you and turning around. The men did the same, retreating to the corner they were previously in.
You let out the sigh of relief you didn’t know you held in. You swiveled to Higuruma, eternally grateful. “Thank you.”
He nodded and then his lips connected to the scotch glass’s rim, as he rewarded himself with a taste of the amber colored liquid.
You shifted your eyes, staring between him and the busy bartender. You weren’t sure if Higuruma wanted to talk more, but you wanted to piece together the puzzle of him. Mysterious and quiet, but caring and determined when it mattered. It was a good combination of traits.
“Looks like I unknowingly walked into a lion's den,” you teased. “I didn’t realize this place was reserved for lawyers, especially after their conference.”
Higuruma placed his glass on the wooden counter. “Don’t take it personally. Some people are cranky after a long day, and most think they’re better than everyone else. They think they singlehandedly decide what’s right and wrong.”
You tilted your head. “Let me guess. You don’t like these kinds of things at all?”
“How’d you know?” he asked. He was straight-faced, but his words were laced with sarcasm. It took you a moment to figure that out.
You shrugged with a growing smile. “I’m good at reading people. Most of the time.”
His eyes wavered at you as he calculated. “You think you got me all figured out?”
You narrowed your gaze at him, trying to peel back his layers. “I don’t know yet.”
Before either of you could say anything more, the bartender arrived, and you ordered your drink. While making it, you watched all of the guy’s moves and flair with the bottles. From the corner of your vision, Higuruma only stared at you, never holding back from his study. You didn’t mind it.
When the drink was placed in front of you, you smiled and started to pull out your card, but you were interrupted by Higuruma.
“Put her on my tab,” he told the bartender.
The man nodded and left too quickly to argue. You looked at Higuruma with shock.
He almost smirked until he dragged it down. “You’re my plus one, remember? The least I could do is pay for your drinks while you’re here.”
Your shoulders sagged with happiness. You were afraid you blinded the whole place by beaming like the sun. “I suppose I should add ‘gentlemen’ to your list of traits, then.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he said, yet he gave you no time to argue. “What do you do for work?”
You sipped your drink, almost wincing at the amount of alcohol. “I’m a marketer.”
A sliver of a smile came out. You were getting closer to cracking him. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“Does it?” you asked playfully.
He dipped his head. “You surely made an impression here. Marketing has to grab your attention. It has to balance between lies and honesty. Sometimes, it has to get a little risky.”
Your eyes lit up. “And that’s me?”
“It is tonight.”
You trailed your fingers across your glass, eventually tracing the rim, which had your lip gloss stain on it. “I guess you’ll just have to see if that’s me on other nights, too.”
At your boldness, he finally smirked. “See? Marketer.”
“Is it working?” you asked.
He drank his scotch until only a few drops were left. You watched as his throat worked, swallowing down the alcohol. “Maybe,” he said, after making you wait for a minute.
You bit your tongue, accepting his silent challenge. “So, what made you become a lawyer if you hate all the pretentiousness of it?”
He swirled the last drops of his scotch, but still never consumed it. Perhaps he only drank when he deemed himself worthy of it.
“Justice, I suppose. Wanting to dedicate myself to defending people who were wrongfully accused. They deserve chances,” he explained.
So as snobby as the woman was, it didn’t appear that she lied about him—he took on cases that were impossible to win.
“And does it ever work out?” you asked, hesitantly.
He let go of his glass, staring at you with eyes that were more tired than a moment ago. “Not usually, no.”
You wished you could just place your thumb on his eyebags and wipe them away. By his appearance, he’d practically fall asleep in the palm of your hand.
“That must take a big emotional toll on you.”
He huffed, tapping a finger on the counter. “Yes, you could say that.”
“But you help those people,” you said. “You give them hope. Even if it’s short-lived, it’s something they can believe in. “
Higuruma ceased his fidgeting. “You don’t think it’s wrong?”
His question caught you by surprise. You shrugged your shoulders. “Why would seeing the good in people and fighting for that good be wrong?”
Higuruma’s eyes lightened. He cleared his throat and finally drank his remaining drops of scotch. You sipped your drink in minor celebration.
Eventually, the rain began to die down along with the crowd. You expected Higuruma to be one of them, to leave respectfully, and then you’d shortly follow.
But, no, the man stayed. Obviously, you had to, as well. It was the proper thing to do. Besides, you didn’t mind the man’s company.
You didn’t mind his company at all.
Once you looked at the time again, it was 11 P.M. Even though neither of you wanted to stop conversing, the tiredness caught up. Luckily, you guys only drank two each tonight.
The place closed down, and you stood outside with him in the summer air. It was back to being humid and muggy, along with the ground being wet. It wouldn’t be fun to walk this in heels, but that was your karma.
You turned to him with a sigh, but smiled. “It was nice meeting you, Higuruma. And thank you again for paying.”
He nodded, his smirk coming easier than ever before. “No problem. Will you make it to your car okay?”
You tensed up, debating whether to tell him until you realized you talked a big game about honesty and how important it was to be genuine. You couldn’t lie to him now. Maybe not ever. “I walked, actually.”
Higuruma raised his eyebrows. “You walked home?” Immediately with his mouth set, he said, “Follow me. I’m giving you a ride.”
“No, seriously!” you rushed to defend. “It’s okay—”
“Not only did you have drinks, but the weather is still shit, and it’s almost midnight. It’s dangerous.” His eyes trailed your figure, eliciting goosebumps on your damp skin. “Please.”
His singular beg, with such power behind it, almost made your knees give out. You nodded and followed him to his car, your heart beating rapidly in your ears.
It was the sleek and nice type. Black and expensive. Once he opened the passenger door for you, you sat down on the leather and buckled your seatbelt. You wouldn’t be surprised if he bought this from the dealership right before he arrived.
He sat in the driver’s seat, and after he had situated himself, drove out of the lot. He looked expectantly at you.
“Oh! Sorry, uh, you can turn left.”
He did as you commanded, driving down the nearly empty road, lit by streetlights and the Waxing Gibbous moon that hung low in the pitch-black sky.
“It’s mostly straight for a good five minutes,” you said. Stupidly, your heart never slowed its beating. It was silent in the car, other than the tires traversing on the road.
Maybe it was the alcohol, your bluntness, or your discomfort with silence, but you asked, “You’re not always that sad, are you?”
Immediately, you cursed yourself for it, opening your mouth to apologize when he laughed. It was a silky sound—one that you’d play in your headphones and repeat for hours as if it were a guilty pleasure.
“No, not always. You just found me when I needed saving.”
You looked out the window as buildings passed by. “Well, someone has to have the same amount of hope in you that you have for others.”
Silence in the car. You were afraid you went too far somehow.
After a moment, Higuruma breathed out fondly. “I suppose so.”
His response made you smirk, though you remained looking out the window. Even with the angle, you were sure he could see your reaction. You hoped he could.
After ten minutes of piping up to give him directions, he parked in front of your house.
He was being nice, waiting until you left, but a part of you didn’t want to leave. Did he feel that way, too? Was that why the two of you sat in silence, staring at each other but saying nothing? Secretly anticipating the other to make a move?
“Thank you,” you said, more breathless than you were supposed to be.
“Of course,” he responded. He swallowed, studying your every curve.
Silence filled with tension commenced again. You swore you heard a cricket chirp from outside.
“Well, that’s my cue.” You opened the passenger door. “Thank you aga—”
A calloused hand, the same one that slapped the other man away, grabbed your arm. His grip was soft but secure as you swiveled your head back. Higuruma pulled you in, and when you expected your mouths to crash together, his lips gently kissed your forehead.
The tenderness set your body alight, and as he retracted, you knew the kiss would forever burn in that spot.
“When can I see you again?” he asked, already wrecked from your touch.
Your face flushed. “Uhm, are you free this weekend? Saturday for dinner?”
“I’ll clear my day.”
You nodded. As much as you wanted to cease blushing, your face wouldn’t let you. It was definitely embarrassing, but Higuruma stared like you were the only thing worth seeing.
He then grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket and handed you a card. When it was in your hands, you pursed your lips and read it.
Higuruma Law Office.
A phone number was printed below it.
You smiled at him. “I think your employees are going to be pretty mad when I call and don’t want you as a lawyer.”
“I’ll testify on your behalf.”
You held the card tight. “I’ll see you Saturday,” you said as you got out of the car.
“See you, then,” he responded.
When you closed your door shut and walked to your house, you tried your best not to skip your way there, especially since he was the type to wait until you made it in safely.
But if you did a celebratory hop, that was between the two of you.
After all, you had a date planned with Higuruma Hiromi.
That deserved excitement.