People think "hate" is a strong word, and it is. But that is exactly how I felt about Carson. Honestly, he acted as if he were God's gift to the world! He never treated me, or anyone else, with respect. He had fought, clawed, and probably cheated his way this far up the ladder, and he hadn't stopped yet. Sure, journalism is a competitive business, but he took it to the extreme, forcing me to fight with everything in me just to stay afloat.

That week, we had no clue we were about to be forced to work together. I received a note to report to the office. When I arrived, Carson was already there.

"Hello, rookie," he said in his condescending way.

I had been a journalist for three years now, just one year less than he had. I certainly was not a rookie anymore. I just gave him a dirty look.

"All right you two," our boss, Mr. Schultz, said. "I've got an assignment for the both of you, so let's not get off on the wrong foot."

"Too late," I muttered.

"What was that?" Mr. Shultz asked.

"Nothing, sir," I quickly replied.

"Good. Now, we have received a tip that there is going to be a surprise witness for the prosecution in the Blackwood case."

The Blackwood murder case had been in the news for months. It had just gone to trial the week before, and though everyone knew he had committed the crime, things had looked bleak for the prosecution. Until now, it seemed.

"I want the pair of you to be in that courtroom tomorrow morning and get the scoop," Mr. Schultz continued.  "Get our paper the entire story. Tell us who the witness is, what he saw, etc. Don't leave anything out. And most importantly, work together. Now that Chrissy's out sick, this story will go to print under both your names, so help each other out."

"I don't need his help," I protested.

"And I don't need yours," Carson added.

"Lilly, Carson, enough! You work together. That's final."

"Yes, sir," we both replied grudgingly.

The fireworks started when we got out of the office.

"I don't believe this!" Carson exclaimed. "You're going to drag me down, I know it."

"Why would I drag you down?" I asked. "I'm a printed journalist in my own right. And I've earned every story."

"I'll just bet. Your looks can get you any story you want."

"What?!"

"You heard me," Carson responded, storming off to his desk, which, thankfully, was no where near mine.

The next morning, things were even worse. We met outside the courts building, but I was there first.

"Well, well," I said. "Look who decided to show up."

"Bag it, Lilly! I've had a bad morning."

"You'd never know it," I said. "You're in the same mood as always."

"I said, 'bag it'," Carson barked.

We made it to the courtroom without any further trouble, just a very strained silence. The surprise witness turned out to be a woman, who was presented before the lunch break. Both of us took notes furiously. Not only had the woman had seen Blackwood on the night of the murder, she had witnessed the murder itself from a window in her apartment. The victim had been killed in the alley just behind her first-floor unit. With the lights off, she had been able to see the crime in its entirety, and was even the anonymous 9-1-1 caller.

When her testimony was over, the jury was sent to deliberate. She had been the most important witness called, and the prosecution had kept her under wraps until the last.

I made a quick call to our boss to see if we needed to stay until the jury was back, which he confirmed that we did. The jury was out for less than an hour. The decision was not a surprise. They had found the defendant guilty.

At that, Carson and I, along with every other journalist, made a mad dash for the elevators. Despite our speed, we were last to the elevators, due to our having had front-row seats in the courtroom. When the elevator finally opened up we were the only two who needed to get on. Carson pushed the button to take us to the ground floor, and we waited as far apart from each other as was possible in that small elevator.

All of a sudden, there was a grinding noise, and the elevator shuddered to a halt.

"Great!" I exclaimed. "The elevator's stuck!"

I couldn't believe it. I was stuck in an elevator with Carson. This couldn't be happening.

"Guess we're trapped together for a while," he said.

"Tell me about it."

We stood staring at each other for what seemed like ages. Carson broke the silence.

"We can't keep hating each other like this," he said.

"If you treated me with some respect, I might like you better.  You don't regard anyone that isn't higher on the totem pole than you are," I replied, venom in every word.

"You're right," he said as the realization sank in.  "Guess it's a learned response. Want some gum? It's spearmint," he said as he pulled out a pack.

"Sure," I said hesitantly, briefly wondering if he had poisoned it. No, he wouldn't do that. He'd get caught.

Carson continued.

"My dad taught me to claw my way to the top. He never did amount to anything himself, so he pushed me that much harder. He couldn't bear the fact that he was a failure, so I guess he lived vicariously through me. He didn't live to see me graduate college, but by then fighting was already ingrained into me. Because of him, I've stepped over everyone and everything to get where I am today. But, to be honest, it's exhausting. And it's lonely. I don't have any friends, Lilly. Everyone hates me. I know I seem like I'm on top of the world all the time, but most of the time, I'm in the pits. I don't know how to be any different. I need help."

He had never opened up like this before. In fact, he had never opened up at all. Now that he had, I saw a lonely man who desperately wanted to do the best he could. I saw a vulnerable man who had never been loved, but one who needed love worse than anyone knew. At that moment, I softened toward him. I had never before seen this side of him. It was almost endearing. The silence screamed at me. I couldn't hate him anymore. The walls between us came down at that moment.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'll help you if you want. I'm no therapist, but I could be a friend."

He looked directly into my eyes, something he had never done before. I had never noticed how handsome he was.

"I would love that," he said softly.

At that moment, the elevator began to move again. There was a maintenance man on the ground floor.

"Gee, kids," he said. "Sorry about that. I've been telling them for years that they need to replace that thing."

We thanked him and walked out of the courts building hand-in-hand.

I think we fell in love in that elevator. Now, ten years later, we're still in love.