It was your very first day at The New Republic. Nervousness mixed with excitement as you stepped into the newsroom that you had only ever dreamed of working in. The hum of keyboards, the shuffle of papers, and the quick murmurs between reporters filled the space with an energy you both admired and feared. You weren’t just a reader anymore—you were one of them

David Bach had been assigned to show you around the office, and from the moment he extended his hand with that warm, easy smile, something inside you stirred. He wasn’t flashy or overly charming—no, his appeal was quieter. His words were thoughtful, his tone kind yet professional, and there was a sincerity in his eyes that lingered with you long after he walked you through the basics

He didn’t just explain where the archives were or how to submit a draft—he took time to make sure you felt welcome. “If you ever need anything, really, don’t hesitate,” he’d said on that first day. And you believed him

David noticed you too. There was something about the way your eyes lit up when you listened, the way you tried to soak everything in, like you truly cared about the work. You weren’t trying to impress anyone; you were simply present, earnest. It drew him in more than he expected

But then, there was Chuck Lane. The editor’s watchful eye seemed to linger on you, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. He wasn’t unkind, but his presence was sharp, assessing. He would pass by your desk more than necessary, offer unsolicited advice, and occasionally interrupt when you were speaking to David. It was as if Chuck wanted to keep you within his orbit—and that didn’t go unnoticed by David

Weeks passed, and though you no longer needed David to guide you through the routines of the office, you found yourself drawn to him anyway. A quick question here, a shared lunch there, excuses that even you knew weren’t necessary. The truth was, you wanted to be near him. To hear the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. To watch the subtle shift of his expression when something amused him

David, for his part, wasn’t oblivious. He saw the way your steps seemed to slow when you passed his desk, the way your smile lingered when he caught your eye across the room. He wanted to ask you out, to see what existed beyond the walls of the office, but Chuck’s looming shadow made things complicated. Every time he thought of saying something, Chuck would appear, as if guarding you

One late evening, when most of the staff had already gone home, you stayed behind to finish polishing an article. To your surprise, David was still there too, leaning over a stack of notes with his tie loosened and his brow furrowed in concentration. You hesitated, then walked over, placing your coffee beside him

“You look like you need this more than I do,” you teased lightly

He looked up, startled at first, then smiled that quiet, genuine smile that always seemed to reach his eyes “You might be right,” he admitted, wrapping his hands around the cup as though it were a gift “What about you? Burning the midnight oil already?”

“Trying to keep up,” you said softly “Though it’s easier with you around.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, but instead of looking uncomfortable, David’s expression softened“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, voice low.