The sound of particular heels clicking across the whole office, making people turn around to see who's walking through the hall. It's Anna, the famous ice queen, walking straight into my desk.
I froze, my fingers stuttering over the keyboard. Anna rarely descended from her managerial perch unless it was to deliver a critique or an impossible deadline, and now she was zeroing in on me. She stopped beside my chair, a stack of neatly arranged files in her hands.
"Luke," she said, her voice cooler than the office AC, placing the files in front of me. "These need to be updated before the end of the day."
"Got it," I replied, trying to sound normal, like my heart wasn't suddenly trying to hammer its way out of my chest.
Her eyes lingered on me a little longer than usual, tracing the line of my jaw before settling on the bruised skin. "What happened to your face?" she asked, her tone shifting, becoming almost… playful. "You look like you got into a bit of trouble." I gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. "Let's just say my bed fought back this morning and won."
A ghost of a smirk touched her lips. Then she leaned forward, resting a hand on my desk. The movement was casual, but it made her blouse dip just enough to reveal a hint of the perfect shape beneath. My throat went dry and my eyes betrayed me, dropping for a second too long before I wrenched them back up to hers, a flush of heat creeping up my neck.
Before I could formulate a reasonable thought, Mark's voice intruded from behind me, dripping with teasing implication. "Come on, man, tell her the truth—"
Anna cut him off without even looking at him, her gaze still locked on me, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. "You should focus on your own work, Mark." Mark raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin wide. "Alright, alright, I'm out of this." I chuckled nervously, the sound strained.
Anna's eyes held mine for a second longer, her expression unreadable. "Be careful next time, Luke," she said, her voice a low, almost intimate murmur. "We can't have our best worker getting into accidents."
"Right… I'll try," I managed, the words feeling awkward. She straightened up, turned, and walked away, her heels clicking a soft beat against the floor. Against my will, my gaze followed her, the confident, slow sway of her hips. A dangerous, thrilling thought whispered through my mind: What if I tried the power on her… just once?
The idea was tempting, dirty, and wild. But the guilt came rushing in right after, heavy and cold like a wave. No. That's insane. Don't even think about it. I'm not even sure if it would work on someone like her, and if it backfired, I'd lose more than just my dignity, I'd lose my job.
As I tried to shake off the thought, I glanced up and caught Hazel's eyes from across the room. She was staring? no, watching. Her gaze shifted quickly when our eyes met, a flicker of something unreadable in them before she looked down, but I could feel the unspoken tension, spanning the space between us.
The hours crawled by, and by the time lunch came, I just wanted air. I escaped the building and headed to the quiet café across the street, slumping into a seat by the window. I stared at my phone, not seeing the screen, just trying to clear the jumble of thoughts in my head.
"Mind if I join you?"
I looked up. Hazel stood there, holding her coffee cup, her usual calm smile not quite reaching her eyes, which held something uncertain underneath.
"Sure," I said, motioning to the seat across from me.
She sat down slowly, placing her cup on the table. For a while, neither of us spoke, the silence a comfortable, heavy blanket. Then, softly, she broke it. "I'm sorry about yesterday."
I shook my head. "You don't need to be. It wasn't your fault."
Her eyes flicked toward my cheek, a shadow of guilt crossing her features. "Still… I shouldn't have let that happen. I didn't expect Ethan to... I just… I hate drama. I try so hard to keep my life simple and quiet, and then my past just… explodes all over it." She let out a shaky breath. "And you got caught in the crossfire."
"Hey," I cut in gently. "It's fine. Really. I've had worse."
She offered a faint, grateful smile, but I could tell she didn't believe me. Somehow, just sitting there with her, listening to her open up even this little bit, made the tight knot in my chest begin to loosen, if only for a few minutes.
Then, a comfortable silence settled over us again. She looked at me, really looked this time, her eyes soft but filled with a storm of emotion... guilt, confusion, and maybe something else, something warmer and more fragile.
"Luke…" she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "You don't deserve any of this."
I sighed, leaning back in my chair, feeling the weight of the last 24 hours. "I don't know. Maybe I just attract trouble. Maybe I'm not cut out for this whole… relationship thing."
Her expression changed then, becoming sad, almost pained. She reached out across the table as if she wanted to say something, to touch my hand, but hesitated, pulling back at the last second. Then, suddenly, she stood up.
Before I could react, she leaned over the small table, her hand coming to rest gently on my shoulder for balance, and she kissed me.
It wasn't gentle or careful. It is full of emotion, raw and desperate, like she was trying to say everything she couldn't find the words for. It is an apology, a confession, and a question, all at once.
When she pulled back, I could still feel the warmth of her lips on mine, her breath a soft whisper against my skin. Her eyes met mine, and they were trembling slightly, wide with her own boldness.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I want you." Then she turned and walked out, leaving me sitting there alone, my heart racing, completely stunned into silence.
I lifted my fingers to my lips, still feeling the soft, warm echo of her kiss.
And for the first time in a long time, surrounded by the quiet hum of the café, I didn't know what I am supposed to feel.