𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 is your average do-good lawyer on the rise to fame as a representative of young victims. Except her motivations aren't all that innocent. Rayne's only goal is to run from her past, to leave confrontation for the courtroom, no...
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"𝗧hank you! Come again!" the sweet lady working the register waved to her.
"I will!" she yelled back, offering her a warm smile as she pushed the glass door open and left.
The dark sky welcomed her as she exited the Chinese restaurant off of main street. The smell and warmth coming from the large brown, paper bag comforted her as she looked up at the stars before continuing her stroll. This type of food always brought her comfort.
For once, she had been grateful for the full parking lot on this side of the boardwalk – it was a nice thing to have an excuse to walk around. Especially in a night as empty as this one.
Her cell vibrated in her pocket as she reached the edge of the boardwalk. Wondering who was calling her, she shifted the bag to her other hand and reached in her pocket for her phone. When it was finally in her hands, the sound of wheels rolling against the concrete alerted her; the moment her eyes flung up to see what was making the noise, her vision went black.
She felt a hard, strong body fly into her as she clutched onto the bag and her phone as she landed square on her tailbone.
Fucking hell that hurt.
"What the hell," she whispered to herself, opening her eyes.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" a man's voice came from the side of her, "I was on my phone I wasn't paying attention to anything else. Oh man, I'm so sorry!"
The man walked to the front of her; a skateboard was tucked under his left shoulder. His red hair was displayed messily in front of his eyes. He was frowning, visibly upset that he had run her over so abruptly. He reached a hand out to her, "Let me help you up."
Rayne hesitated for a minute before accepting his gesture and placing her hand in his. He pulled her up within seconds; it looked like he barely struggled. She pocketed her phone and rubbed just above her butt as the pain became broader as she stood. When she recollected her composure, she looked up at him and squinted. She could see his yellow – brown eyes clearly now.
Why does he look so familiar to me?
"Do I know you?" she asked.
He titled his head to the side, looking at her deeply before he placed a hand on his face and dragged downwards, "Oh god – this is so weird," he mumbled, "but I think you're the woman who helped me with a cupcake dilemma I had at this coffee shop like more than a month ago."
The connection formed in her head as his features suddenly came to life in her memories. She had initially thought of him as strange – and even so, she wasn't sure that opinion had changed much.
"Enzo ... right? I remember you."
"Yeah," he said sheepishly, "—by the way, I'm really sorry about hugging you randomly that day. I thought I was being weird and creepy with the way I was talking and what I was talking about and I made it even worse by touching you inappropriately. I have a hard time understanding social cues," he scratched the back of his head nervously, "I've been wanting to apologize to you since that day, so I guess it's fate that we've bumped into each other again."
