Back in the workforce

The walk to the office felt longer than I remembered, or maybe it was just my nerves playing tricks. By the time I stood in front of the building, my heart was pounding, my thoughts tangled. I hadn’t been here in months, but now, staring up at the place I used to call my second home, I felt oddly intimidated. Like a rookie on their first day.

“John!”

That voice. Unmistakable, familiar, and exactly what I needed. I turned, a grin already forming, and there she was: Christina Simmons. She was walking toward me, waving enthusiastically, her dark hair bouncing with every step and her hazel eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Chick!” I called, arms outstretched, fully expecting her to throw herself into a hug.

She stopped just short, hands on her hips, her brow quirked in mock disapproval. “Careful there. You sure you’re not too frail for this, old man?”

I laughed. “You’re terrible, you know that? And for the record, I’m in peak condition. Besides, if I were frail, I’d trust you to nurse me back to health. A little tender, loving care, right?”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, I thought she might swat me. Then she let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Moron,” she muttered, but her voice was soft, almost affectionate.

“See? You missed me,” I teased.

Her cheeks flushed faintly, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she stepped forward and hugged me—not the bone-crushing tackle I’d braced for, but a firm, lingering embrace. “It really is good to see you again,” she said quietly.

“Same here,” I replied, my voice lower.

The moment lingered, but before it could turn into something more, we were interrupted.

“Well, well. Back for five minutes, and you’re already causing a scene,” came Esther Marshall’s voice, smooth and sharp as a knife.

Christina groaned and stepped back, rolling her eyes. We both turned to see Esther approaching, her heels clicking against the pavement, with Katrina Warren at her side.

“Nice to see you, too, Esther,” I said, smirking.

Esther was as striking as ever. Her light caramel-brown hair framed her face in soft waves, her tailored skirt dress hugging curves that could command attention in any room. She radiated the kind of poise that made everything she did seem deliberate—calculated. Her expression, however, was harder to read. Her lips quirked in a smirk, her eyes sharp and assessing, somewhere between amusement and irritation.

“Back at it already, huh?” she said, folding her arms. Her gaze swept over me slowly, lingering just a second too long before snapping back to my face. “Not wasting any time, are you?”

I shrugged, letting my smirk widen. “Some things never change. Like your knack for ruining a perfectly good moment.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t bite. Instead, her expression shifted subtly—a flicker of something, maybe interest or amusement, before her smirk returned. “Someone’s got to keep you in line. Lord knows you’re incapable of it.”

Before I could fire back, Katy stepped forward, her sunny demeanor cutting through the tension. “Ignore her, John. She’s just upset you didn’t greet her first.”

“Jealous? Please,” Esther cut in, her tone airy but her gaze unreadable. Was that annoyance? Amusement? I couldn’t tell. “I’ve got better things to be jealous of.”

Katy rolled her eyes and extended a hand to me. “It’s good to see you back! How are you holding up?”

“Thanks, Katy,” I said, shaking her hand. My eyes briefly caught on the glittering rings adorning her fingers, and for a fleeting moment, a stray thought passed through my mind before I pushed it aside.

The power is there, waiting. The thought was insidious, tempting. But here, in this familiar setting, with these familiar faces, I decided to keep the ring's influence at bay. For now.

Esther watched the exchange with a faint, knowing smile—equal parts dismissive and intrigued. “Well, now that the prodigal son is back, I suppose we’ll be subjected to your usual antics.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, leaning slightly toward her. “I’ve got plenty of new material for you.”

Her lips twitched, but whether it was the beginnings of a genuine smile or a mocking one, I couldn’t tell. “I’ll bet you do.”

“Okay, break it up, children,” Christina chimed in, rolling her eyes but smiling as she nudged me toward the building. “Let’s get inside before you get into trouble.”

The morning passed in a blur of awkward small talk and clumsy attempts to reacquaint myself with the workflow. By noon, I was ready to call it quits. That’s when Christina popped her head into my office, her presence an instant relief.

“Hey, you surviving?” she asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Barely. The new procedures are killing me.”

Christina smirked, her small, delicate features softening with the hint of a warm smile. “You know what you need? Coffee. Come on.”

She didn’t give me a chance to argue, grabbing an extra mug and practically dragging me to the break room. Inside, Katy and Esther were already chatting, their voices rising and falling in comfortable rhythm. Christina headed straight for the coffee machine, her movements efficient and familiar, leaving me to linger and observe the scene.

Esther was impossible to ignore. Her caramel-brown hair fell in soft waves, framing her sharp features and flawless complexion. She exuded precision—her posture, the way her tailored blouse emphasized her figure, and the way her words seemed calculated before they even left her mouth. Yet, there was a barely perceptible tension to her movements, as if she was holding something back.

Katy, by contrast, was the embodiment of ease and energy. Her blonde ponytail bounced as she spoke, her bright laugh ringing out like a bell. Her animated gestures and sparkling eyes made her feel effortlessly approachable, a burst of fresh air in the room’s subtle tension.

Christina, meanwhile, was a steady presence, grounding as always. Her jet-black hair caught the light as she turned, handing me a mug with a faintly mischievous smile. Her soft hazel eyes lingered on me, their warmth evident.

She caught me staring at the others. “What’s that look for?”

I smirked, deflecting. “Nothing. Just taking in the view.”

Christina rolled her eyes, her nose crinkling slightly as she smiled. “You’re impossible.”

“Not with you, Chick,” I replied, my voice dropping playfully.

She shook her head, muttering, “Moron,” but her tone held the kind of affection only shared history could forge.

The nickname still felt natural. ‘Chick.’ Years ago, during her ill-advised experiment with honey-blonde hair, I’d teased her mercilessly, comparing her to a hatchling. The name stuck, transforming from a joke into a badge of our bond.

Leaning back against the counter, I sipped my coffee, my gaze shifting between the trio. Katy’s effervescence, Christina’s steady presence, and Esther’s sharp, unreadable demeanor—all distinct, all compelling.

Esther’s eyes flicked to me, her expression neutral but her gaze piercing. Green fire, sharp and unwavering, as though she were dissecting me with every glance. Her lips barely moved, the faintest twitch betraying a mix of amusement, annoyance, or perhaps both.

She didn’t say a word, but the tension hung between us. It was thick, charged, and impossible to ignore. Her rings caught the light, a silent reminder of the power I held.

Christina’s soft voice broke through my thoughts. “You’re doing it again, John.”

“Doing what?”

“That ‘plotting’ look.” Her tone was light, teasing, but her hazel eyes searched mine.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Plotting? Nah. Just… taking it all in.”

But what if I did plot? The thought was there, seductive and dark. I could suggest something, just a little test. But the environment here, the familiarity of these faces, held me back.

“Whatever you say,” Christina replied, sipping her coffee with a knowing smile. But the air still felt heavy with unresolved energy.

I realized then that I was at a crossroads. Here, with these women, I could either let the ring's power seep into my professional life, or I could keep it separate. The temptation was there, the thrill of control just beneath the surface, but so was the echo of who I used to be, the man these people knew.

What now? Should I risk doing something risqué in front of people I work with? The question lingered, unanswered, as I contemplated the next move in this bizarre new game I was playing.