Welcome to New York 1

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© Myranda Rae 2023. All Rights Reserved.


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The bustling foot traffic at the crosswalk starts to move and shove across the busy street. I try to walk quickly but take care not to rush, otherwise, my time will be off.

When I look at the running stopwatch, it reads  18.23. I'll go ahead and call that an even twenty. I stop my watch and look up at the shiny mirrored glass building in front of me.

A twenty-minute walking commute from my horrible apartment to my new job. It could be worse, I could have to take several subway lines to get here.

My tiny studio in the meatpacking district is on the fourth floor of a six-story walk-up. My legs are already protesting. Coming from the west coast I couldn't believe that there was no air conditioning. Come summer, I might be regretting this whole thing.

I notice a small cafe on the opposite corner of the block. I decide that as part of my due diligence, I should probably try it. It would be wonderful to have good options for coffee so close to the office.

I stare up at the building as I walk past it. Large, bronze letters proudly read "Hutchins, Hutchins & Bond Attorneys at Law."

I shake the nervous energy from my hands. I am the first female junior associate hired here in nearly ten years. I'm also the first non-Yalie ever to be hired here, ever.

I need to represent women, the west coast, and Stanford all at once. It's a lot of pressure. If I fail here, I'm letting down more than just myself. If I fail, the nay-sayers were right, I can't hack it.

I got offers for junior associate positions from several law firms on the west coast, including the one I interned for every summer. That would have been the easy option, I know everyone in that firm, they know me. Coming here means starting from scratch in every aspect of my life. There is something about this place though. Their reputation for hardball, and brilliant lawyering is well known. I want to be a part of something big like that.

I also love the idea of breaking up the boys club. These east coast boys have no idea what's about to hit them.

I'm all too aware of the people that expect me to fail. Being a lawyer is difficult enough as it is without having the added pressure of dealing with so many expectations. I know I can handle it, I've been underestimated my entire life. Something about my large eyes and petite frame screams "innocent kindergarten teacher" to most men.

When I was an undergrad, it bother me to be seen that way. Eventually, I learned to see it as an advantage. They never see me coming. By the time they realize that they shouldn't let their guard down, I've blown right past them.

How is it possible that women are still treated as lesser in so many fields? Haven't we proven our worth a million times over?

The coffeehouse is busy, which is a positive sign. I walk in and look over the expansive pastry case and refrigerated grab-and-go section. I'm glad to have this place so close. I can see myself here often.

"Medium iced mocha with almond milk, please," I order when my turn comes.

Waiting for my drink I turn to look around the room. There is a decent mixture of people in athleisure wear and business attire.

For a Saturday I'm surprised by the number of people that are clearly working in corporate environments. However, I shouldn't be surprised, this is the city that never sleeps, of course, people are working on the weekends. I haven't exactly picked a career that is known for its easygoing business hours and typical five-day work weeks. I will, inevitably, be one of these tired-looking, working people here on a Saturday, in no time at all.

After grabbing my drink I head for the door. I can't help but smile with the first sip, I'll definitely be here often. A good cup of coffee is worth its weight in gold when you're up late reading legal precedents and police reports.

Just a few steps out the door, I step directly into the wrong place at exactly the wrong time. A lady with a dog stops to tie her shoe, just as a cyclist rides by, her dog lunges at the cyclist, causing him to swerve into the pedestrian walking lane. In order to dodge the bike coming at me I jump diagonally forward, directly into someone's body, then fall to the ground.

I am face to face with coffee-stained Sperrys. As I look up over the tight khaki shorts and pastel pink polo, I'm met with the angry face of a frat boy.

"Fuck! Watch it!" He hisses angrily, shaking his wet shoes.

"I'm so sorry!" I start to pull myself up when another man's hand comes down, gently pulling me up by my arm.

"Jesus Christ, Mitchel, what is wrong with you?" His warm voice scolds the man I bumped into. He releases my arm once I'm on my feet. Rubbing my scraped hands together, I look up at the man that helped me.

Holy hell. This can't be a real human man standing in front of me. I've never been the boy-crazy type but this guy is unreal. He is tall, so tall, definitely mid-sixes at least. His green eyes are light, they stand out against his tan skin and dark hair.

I'll blame it on the shock of being knocked on my ass but I can't even formulate words.

"Whatever, man," he steps around me and into the coffee shop.

Wow, what an asshole.

"Hey, sorry about that!" The cyclist says, "you alright?"

I give him a small smile, "yeah, I'm fine."

He pedals off, leaving me alone with Handsome.

"Are you really alright?" He's looking at my hands.

"Yes, falling publicly is more of a bruise to my ego." I groan and pick up my empty cup from the ground.

He lets out a light laugh, "Can I get you another coffee?"

I'm surprised by his offer. "That's very considerate of you but I'm alright, really."

"I feel like I owe you after he was such a dick," he chuckles.

"You don't owe me anything, thank you though." I smile and he nods, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth.

I need to get out of here. Nerves over starting a new job, being alone in a new city, and his ridiculously attractive face are going to make me do something I'll regret.

As I walk away, I can't help but turn back, looking over my shoulder.

Shit. He's looking too. A wide smile spreads over his face as we catch the other sneaking one more peek.

Turning before he can see me blush, I walk away quickly. I can't afford any distractions right now. I came here to kick ass as a junior associate not to mess around with handsome good samaritans. Even if they're really, really handsome.

I groan to myself as the scratched skin on my knees starts to sting.

Welcome to New York, I guess.

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