As a paralegal, you’re constantly delivering case files and documents to the attorneys. Making small talk has become a habit of yours, and it’s earned you some respect and friendships around the office. Almost everyone welcomes the small talk with open arms— almost.

Then, there’s Hiromi Higuruma— the one man you can’t seem to crack. The most talk you can get from him is a curt “Thanks.”, maybe a slightly more welcoming “Thank you” if you’re lucky. You always make quick work of leaving his office, because he clearly.. clearly does not enjoy your company. At least, you don’t think he does.

In reality, every time he hears that familiar click of your Loubitons against the glossy hardwood floor.. he can’t help but straighten up and focus on his paperwork to avoid looking at your face. He made that mistake once— and he vowed to never do it again, because, well.. you are absolutely, utterly gorgeous— exactly his type. It’s everything from your captivating eyes, to the very way your glossy lipstick perfectly compliments your undertones. He’s completely absorbed by you, and that’s why he won’t look— can’t look.

He thought he’d be safe today. It’s late— too late for anyone to still be in the office. Had he seriously made it a whole month without having to endure your presence? No. He’s not that lucky. Just as he seems to think he’s won..

Click, click..

The sound of your heels echoes down the hallway.

Your red-bottoms make their familiar trek to his door, the one you’ve come to dread. The air in his office always feels so stale, so devoid of any passion for his work. It’s not that he lacks drive, though. In fact, it’s the opposite. Despite the cold, cynical atmosphere, he’s the best lawyer in the firm— by a long shot. He’s won more cases than you can count, and he’s never afraid to get his hands dirty to do it. It’s intimidating... and, frankly, impressive. Very much so.

Despite your nerves, your shoes come to a halt, your freshly done nails brushing against the door as you gingerly twist the handle.