I give him nothing. Silence is the only resistance I have left.
He grins, undeterred. “Well, if we do, I hope it’s from a good memory and not one that makes you think women find me repulsive.” He gestures at me, eyebrows raised. “I don’t mind if you want to tell me I’m the latter. It won’t shatter my world.”
The self-deprecation is unexpected, and for the first time since meeting him, my irritation slips, and something almost like amusement creeps in. “You’re insufferable,” I inform him. “But I’ve dealt with worse.”
He laughs, a real laugh, not the kind people force to be polite. “You know what I find fascinating, Minji?”
A soft knock interrupts us. Eliza appears in the doorway, her expression all business. I guess we’re tabling our discussion for another time. “Attorney Martinez is holding on line two for you.”
“Thank you, Eliza.”
Her eyes land on Aaron, but I wave her off. I don’t have time for introductions. If that’s something he wants to do, he’ll have to do that on his own time. As she closes the door behind her, Aaron leans back in his chair.
“Don’t let me keep you.” He gestures to the phone on my desk.
I have a feeling that the next month will be a battle of wills, and I need to approach every encounter with him strategically.
CHAPTER 3
AARON
This must befate giving us a second chance, but it’s a cruel fate because Minji doesn’t remember me. I shouldn’t be surprised, technically, but I am. We slept together for two months back in college before she ghosted me, and I never heard from her again. She was my TA for chemistry at Columbia. I was a sophomore in my second semester, and she was in her senior year. The time gap means she’s maybe, genuinely, forgotten? Or maybe her refined, law-weaponized mind has redacted those blurry memories. Or maybe she just looked at me back then, ran the emotional calculus, and decided I was a non-essential variable. That would besoMinji.
I wasn’t holding my breath for some dramatic reunion scene. Minji’s never been one for theatrics. When she stared me down in that conference room with her tilted chin and those words—“that might be the stupidest thing I’ve heard all week”—I nearly laughed at how familiar it felt. Twelve years ago, I’d have moved mountains just to see a crack in that ice-queen façade. These days, I’ve learned patience. But damn if seeing her didn’t blow the dust-off memories I thought I’d locked away for good after she vanished without a word.
Thank God for Tuesday nights with Grayson. Like clockwork: Riley’s Bar, Hell’s Kitchen, our corner booth, twin Jamesons waiting, a burger between us, and wings if either of us has had it rough. No need for texts, he knows I’ll be there, same as the sun rises.
I spot him hunched over his whiskey in our usual spot, but something’s off. I do a double-take—those wild curls he’s had since the orphanage are gone.
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened to your hair?” I slide in across from him, my fingers already finding my waiting glass.
Grayson’s hand drifts self-consciously to his newly-shaved head. “Too much? I figured after thirty years of the same look, it was time for a change.”
“Are you going through a breakup?” I’m genuinely confused why he would cut off his curls and get a low fade.
“No.” He scoffs. “I don’t do relationships, you know that. But I’m not the topic of discussion tonight, it’s you. So how did your first day go?” he asks. “Any hot paralegals or attorneys?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.
“Not there for eye candy, but for work.”
“Boooo! So how about the attorney you are shadowing? How is he? A poindexter or is he chill?”
“He’s asheand she is a tough cookie. Did you know she had the nerve to tell me,‘I think your genre of writing is absurd; romance is for dreamers, not doers.’Who the fuck says that to someone’s face when they first meet them? She holds nothing back, that’s for fucking sure.”
“I think that’s a compliment.” Grayson takes a sip of his whiskey. “At least she reads.”
“That’s not a compliment. That’s an insult to my entire career.” I down half my whiskey in one gulp, feeling the burn crawl down my throat. “There’s a difference.”
Grayson shrugs, completely unfazed by my indignation. “So what if she hates romance? Makes for a better story when you fall for each other.”
I nearly choke on my saliva. “I’m not sure romance is on the docket for her. This woman is now the human equivalent of a paper shredder. She’d sooner file a restraining order than go on a date with me.”
“Exactly my point.” Grayson’s eyes gleam with mischief. “You’re the guy who writes about opposites attracting, enemies becoming lovers, all that shit. Now you’re living it. You have the cheat book on how to make her fall for your charms.”
“I’m not living anything. I’m researching.” I signal the bartender for another round. “Besides, she’s not even my type,” I lie.
Grayson leans forward, suddenly interested. “Oh?”
“Don’t give me that look.” I point an accusing finger at him. “Don’t start.”
