The next day at work, the bank buzzed with its usual blend of activity—the rhythmic hum of transactions, the soft murmurs of conversations, and the precise orchestration of financial dealings. As I settled into my routine at the teller's counter, a sigh escaped me, a dreamy exhale that carried the lingering traces of an unexpected night.
When I woke that morning, the surreal events of the previous evening seemed almost like a mirage—an ethereal dream that unfolded in the quiet hills and city lights. The warmth of Jake's compliment, the scent of his blanket, and the shared kiss lingered in my consciousness, leaving behind a trail of emotions that defied easy categorization.
As I took a peek through the curtains of my bedroom window, reality asserted itself with the unmistakable presence of Jake's familiar car. Parked in the early morning light, it served as a tangible reminder that the night's events were more than just a dream—they were a tapestry of shared moments and unforeseen connections that had woven themselves into the fabric of my reality.
The bank, with its efficient clockwork of financial transactions, became a sanctuary of routine—a space where the complexities of life played out against the backdrop of numbers and paperwork. My coworkers, a blend of curious glances and friendly banter, noticed my unusually happy, dreamy state.
"What's got you in such a good mood, Mandy?" Stephanie, a fellow teller, asked with a playful smile as she counted bills.
I couldn't help but reciprocate her grin. "Just a good night's sleep, I guess."
Her eyebrows raised, a knowing look in her eyes. "Uh-huh, sure. I've known you for years, Amanda. That dreamy sigh says otherwise. Spill the tea."
I chuckled, appreciating Steph's playful banter. "Maybe I just had a particularly good cup of coffee this morning. Or last night."
She rolled her eyes in mock disbelief. "A good cup of coffee doesn't make anyone sigh like they're in a romantic movie. Come on, spill it. Who's the lucky guy?"
Before I could conjure a deflective response, a customer walked into the bank, redirecting my attention to the professional responsibilities at hand. "We'll talk later, Steph," I said with a grin, waving her off as I greeted the approaching customer.
The day unfolded in a familiar cadence—transactions, inquiries, and the ebb and flow of banking routines. Yet, beneath the surface of professionalism, the traces of the previous night's dreamy atmosphere lingered.
As I assisted customers, the dreamlike quality of the night resurfaced in my thoughts. The scent of Jake's blanket, with its natural musky yet appealing fragrance, whispered in the recesses of my memory, a subtle reminder of shared moments that defied the structured confines of the bank.
The afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the bank's windows, and I found myself stealing glances at the clock—a silent countdown to the end of the workday and the potential for more unexpected moments beyond the walls of the bank.
The final moments of the workday crept in, the subdued chatter of customers and colleagues creating a symphony of routine within the bank. As I glanced towards the entrance, my attention was drawn to the familiar jingle of the door, announcing the arrival of yet another customer. However, this was no ordinary customer—it was Jake.
Dressed impeccably in a suit that accentuated his muscular frame, Jake exuded a quiet confidence that turned heads. I found myself momentarily captivated, my mind wandering to images of what lay beneath the dress shirt and suit jacket. Stephanie, always quick to notice these moments, giggled madly and nudged me playfully, encouraging me to assist him.
The allure of Jake's unexpected visit added a layer of excitement to the otherwise routine end of the workday. As I approached him at the counter, a genuine surprise lit up his face.
"Amanda?" he said, a mixture of surprise and delight in his voice. "I had no idea you worked here."
I couldn't help but smile at the serendipity of our encounter. "Well, now you know," I replied, feeling a subtle warmth in the air. "How can I assist you today?"
Jake, still taken aback by the revelation, chuckled. "Small world, isn't it? I had no idea this was the bank you worked at. It's nice to see you again."
The casual exchange evolved into an idle chat, each question and response becoming a bridge between the familiarity of our night on the hill and the unexpected rendezvous in the confines of the bank. He inquired about my morning, and I reciprocated, the conversation flowing with an easy cadence.
In the midst of our interaction, the surroundings faded into the background, the hum of banking activities becoming a distant murmur.
However, the illusion of a private moment shattered when someone tapped Jake's shoulder. The interruption came from a figure that towered over him—burly, tall, with a stoic face that spoke of a quiet authority. His presence, in stark contrast to the hum of the bank, drew attention, and the atmosphere shifted as he waited patiently for Jake to acknowledge him.
The newcomer's features were etched with a weathered strength, his burly frame seemingly a testament to a life shaped by experiences. His suit, impeccably tailored, hinted at a blend of ruggedness and refinement. A neatly trimmed beard framed his stoic expression, and his eyes held a quiet intensity that demanded respect.
Jake, turning to address the interruption, met the stoic gaze of the newcomer. "Oh, sorry about that," he said, a touch of surprise in his voice. "Amanda, this is Marcus. He's one of my... employees."
Marcus extended a hand in a firm handshake, his grip strong and assured. "Nice to meet you, Amanda," he said, his voice deep and resonant.
Marcus's nod served as a polite acknowledgement, and he turned his attention back to Jake. As he subtly reminded him of their impending departure, Jake's features betrayed a hint of frustration. He continued with the necessary paperwork, engaging in the mundane yet essential aspects of banking. The rhythmic tapping of keys and the rustle of paperwork created a symphony against the atmosphere of the bustling bank.
"I'm here to open an account," Jake stated matter-of-factly, his gaze meeting mine as he initiated the process.
I nodded, adopting a professional demeanour. "Certainly. To open an account, we'll need two forms of identification, a utility bill for proof of address, and any initial deposit you'd like to make."
Without hesitation, Jake produced the required documents—a driver's license, a passport, and a recent utility bill. As I reviewed the details, my mind prepared to guide him through the steps of the account-opening process.
"Great. Now, how much would you like to deposit into your new account?" I inquired, my fingers poised over the keyboard.
His response, however, elicited a reaction beyond my professional facade. "Two million dollars," Jake stated casually, as if discussing the weather.
My eyes widened in disbelief, a reaction so profound that it felt as though they might pop out of their sockets. For a moment, I was convinced I had misheard him. My mouth hung slightly agape, and I felt a surge of dizziness as the outrageous number registered in my mind.
"Two million dollars?" I repeated, my voice echoing the incredulity I felt.
Jake, unfazed by my stunned reaction, repeated the figure with a calm assurance that left me momentarily speechless. "Yes, two million dollars."
I blinked, attempting to process the astronomical sum. The bank transactions around us seemed to blur into the background as my focus narrowed on the reality unfolding before me. The routine of the bank had been disrupted by a figure that transcended the everyday, and my mind struggled to regain its equilibrium.
As Jake patiently awaited the continuation of the process, I found myself instinctively clutching the counter for support. The unexpected weight of the number echoed in my thoughts, threatening to send my surroundings into a dizzying spin.
Regaining my composure, I took a steadying breath and continued with the transaction. "I'm sorry, but depositing more than $10,000 at a time requires very special clearance from the government. I'm afraid those documents will also need to be provided." I give him an apologetic but sincere look. However, he seemed unfazed by my words, still with that calm face.
The next thing I knew, Marcus was pulling a folder from a pocket within his suit jacket, and sliding it over to me. The seal on it looked to be just like that of the government and I hurriedly scrambled to open it, reading through it quickly but carefully.
"V-Very well. Let's proceed with the necessary paperwork for your account." The professional tone returned to my voice, masking the lingering shock that still reverberated beneath the surface.
Throughout the entire ordeal, my mind was still reeling. Just who was Jake? I don't even recall getting a last name from him, not that I told him mine. Was he actually somebody super famous? Then again, he was also the CEO of his own business, one that did quite well based on the information I knew from... Brandon.
"With that, you've just opened an account with us. You can head upstairs to collect your card, and if there are any other questions you need answered, any one of our staff will be happy to assist you."
"Thank you. You've been a wonderful help, Ms. Reeves. Take care and enjoy your day." And with that he left, Marcus handing over a much smaller but thicker envelope addressed to me specifically before he followed after his boss.
Once they'd left, I curiously took a letter opener, slid it across the top of the envelope, and effectively opened it, only to drop it in shock. Inside was a collection of bills that I couldn't begin to start counting. What shook me the most, though, was that from what I could see, they were all 100s.
'Wait a minute... I never told him my last name, did I?'