He continued speaking and kept pace a few steps behind me. "It just seems as if the case is more important to you than anything else. Every time I try to get close to you, Blair, you throw the case at me. The case isn't always going to be there. Why is it so important to you?"

With a crack of thunder the clouds above us gave way to a sudden shower, drenching us both in the sudden downpour. I turned around fully intent on unleashing my ire on him.

"Why now, Aiden!" I shouted over the downpour.

"What?" he asked, taking a step back. I walked towards him, my fists clenched at my sides.

"Why not back in high school! Where was this then?!"

Under the rain I felt tears begin to stream down my face, relieved that he couldn’t see them.

"What do you mean, I..."

"You didn't even pretend to come on to me! Not once! I saw you with girl after girl on your arm! Do you know what that did to me back then! Do you know how much that hurt?! All those years and you never even looked at me! I had no choice but to get over you! Don't you get it! I'm throwing the case at you because it's the only thing I have! You had your chance, and it has passed a long time ago. Don't you see that! So what's so different! Dammit, Aiden. Why now?"

He stopped and let me finish my tirade. I stood with my fists tightened, white knuckles burning, as the rain soaked us fully, hair and clothes plastered to us in the down pour.

"You done?" he asked with fire in his eyes.

I nodded.

"I'll tell you why now, Blair! Because we are different now. You're different now."

"In what say am I different?" I asked.

He paced in front of me like a caged lion, furious.

"God, look at you!" he shouted. "You're stunning. Whether you’re sweating without make up or dressed up for work. I can hardly stand it when you wear those damn little skirts at the office. I mean, are you fucking kidding me! We didn't have this back in high school. Everything is different now and you know it!"

Before I had realized he had stopped talking he stalked towards me. He reached for me, took my face in his hands and pulled me towards him. My arms hung limp at my side as he kissed me. I resisted the urge to wrap myself around him.

The rain.

The fight.

The kiss.

All of it washed over me igniting the fire inside me, the same fire that had been there for as long as I could remember. I wanted more than anything for this kiss to mean something, but in this moment, this one time, I refused to kiss him back.

He pulled away, but kept a hold on my face. His eyes stayed on mine flashing a challenge that I returned with mine.

"Would it have been like this back in high school?" he asked with a leer in his voice.

At that my anger bubbled over.

"You know what, screw you, Aiden!"

I pushed his hands off of me and marched away eager to get as much distance between myself and him as I could. I continued walking even though I still heard him call after me.

"What the hell is the problem now!" he shouted.

I didn't even flinch but just kept moving. I didn’t stop until I made it back to the road. I had called a taxi as soon as my phone showed that I had service, almost back to the parking lot. I ran to the edge of the highway, hoping that I had lost him. By the time I made it to the road I clutched my side, nursing a painful stitch.

The taxi pulled up, as I had given meticulous instructions on my location. Once inside I pulled the door shut behind me and breathed a sigh of relief. I decided I didn’t have time for this kind of stuff, when there was a murder case to take care of. The rain pounded on the window of the cab as the driver pulled forward onto the freeway.

Chapter Eight

The trial date had arrived once again. This time it seemed as if everything would go according to plan. We had spent the morning selecting a jury which had gone largely without incident. The prosecution had apparently tried to get another continuance, but this time it had been denied.

Aiden had apparently given up on trying anything else. We had fallen back into our pattern of trying to outdo each other, while simultaneously making each other look good. I felt okay working with him, but after he had insinuated that I hadn’t been attractive enough for him in high school I was perfectly fine with not speaking to him outside of work. We had developed a cordial professional manner which seemed to work for both of us.

I couldn’t deny that his words had hurt that day. I had known back in high school that I was a late bloomer with not much of a figure. My beauty remained hidden behind glasses and braces until junior year. With the advent of contacts and the removal of braces I started to notice the change in the way people treated me, especially the guys. Even the popular girls started inviting me to the party’s right around that time.

I had no interest of hanging out with the same people who had teased me relentlessly before then and I made no secret of it. Usually if someone did muster up the courage to ask me out, I would remind them of the names that they had called me during our freshmen year.

I found the attention rather annoying.

It made me angry to think that Aiden might be in that same category as those one dimensional block heads.

I had still felt like the awkward girl.

I hadn’t known how to react.

In retrospect I could see that he had only one thing in mind. I felt relieved that all of it was now behind me, and all I had to focus on now was the trial.

We filed into the courtroom, shown by the bailiff where to sit. Aiden and I had the seats along the defendants table. Across the aisle the prosecution lined up placing their files on the small table, a mirror image to our own. Aiden and I sat on the end, while the senior partners had the seats closest to the client.

We had agreed that I would give the opening statements, since it had been my discovery which we used as the foundation of our defense. I took a breath to calm the nervousness of my stomach. In the audience sat the family of the defendant, a young woman that I believe to be his sister, with a young child, a thin girl with neat braids no more than nine, sitting next to her. I wondered if that could be Mr. Shaw's daughter. He had never mentioned having one, but then again no one had asked.

The jury filed in next, a diverse group, most of them with their eyes cast down until they took their seats. I found some small amusement that the tattooed biker had made the cut. He settled in between the clean cut old man and the young thirty something woman with the pony tail. As soon as they all settled many of them looked around the courtroom, soaking in as much information as they could.

The security guards escorted in Darius Shaw until he took his seat at the defendant’s table alongside Mr. Mahoney.

"All rise! Judge Walters presiding," the deep voice of the bailiff rang out over the courtroom.

Everyone grew silent and stood with bits of shuffling, eyes forward.

"Court is now in session."

The judge entered from his chambers, moved across to the bench and took his seat. He looked like a cordial gentlemen, gray hair. He kept his face serious as he looked out over the courtroom. The placement of his bench, about a foot and a half higher than everything else in the room always made me feel that the courtroom was the embodiment of justice. Each section had meaning, every segment of the room was marked out with a purpose.

I relaxed back in my seat as the judge made his announcements, instructing the jury to listen but not to make any decisions until all of the information had been heard. The trial would take about one to two weeks, he said. During that time they were not to talk about any part of the case, make any posts online about their involvement. Doing so could end in a mistrial. He gave them a stern look before turning to the prosecution.