Chapter 2 — First Impressions

Andy

The Kelex workspace didn’t just intimidate—it loomed. Glass walls reflected sunlight and ambition in equal measure, and the open-concept design felt like it could peer right into my soul, down to my questionable lunch choices and the imposter syndrome I thought I’d hidden under my blazer. Even the air smelled productive—a crisp mix of coffee, ozone from the high-tech gadgets, and determination.

Clutching my new employee packet like it was a shield against all the brilliance radiating around me, I forced myself to walk confidently to my desk. Or rather, *a desk*. Kelex had embraced the “collaborative spaces” trend, which meant no one had a fixed spot. I was sharing this particular corner of the Development wing with a rotating cast of tech geniuses, each undoubtedly more brilliant than the last. My desk, at least, came with a view: a sprawling glass wall overlooked the city skyline, the hum of the office layered over the distant pulse of traffic below. It reminded me of the tech-dystopian novels I devoured in college—minus the oppressive government and food rations. Here, you could still order overpriced oat milk lattes with a swipe.

I set my bag down, attempting to exude casual competence, when a warm voice broke through my internal monologue.

“You must be Andy.”

I turned to see Priya Kapoor, my assigned mentor, approaching with the kind of confident stride that said she knew exactly where she was going—and why. Her tailored trousers and vibrant silk blouse somehow managed to be both chic and approachable, and her geometric earrings glinted in the light like little beacons of self-assurance.

“That’s me,” I said, extending a hand. “Andrea Walker. But everyone calls me Andy—except my mom, when she thinks I’m ghosting her texts.”

Priya laughed as she shook my hand, her grip warm and firm. “Welcome to Kelex. Don’t worry, you’ll find your rhythm here. It’s chaotic, but worth it. And by the way, you’ve already made quite the impression.”

I froze, a cold spike of panic shooting through me. “Oh God, you mean the coffee thing, don’t you?”

Her eyes twinkled with unmistakable mischief. “Ah, so you’ve already met Alexander.”

“Met is a generous word. Mostly, I just… accessorized his suit with hazelnut latte.”

Priya chuckled and leaned in slightly. “Well, at least you’re memorable. Most people spend their first day trying *not* to draw his attention.”

“Mission failed,” I muttered, earning another laugh.

“Relax,” Priya said, her tone gentle but firm. “He’s intense, sure—intimidating, definitely. But he’s fair. He respects hard work and results. Just focus on that.”

I nodded, taking her words to heart, though my internal dialogue screamed: *Sure, but does he respect accidental coffee artists?*

As Priya glanced at my wrist, her eyes caught on my bracelet. “This is great,” she said, her smile softening. “Binary code, right? What does it say?”

“‘Never.give.up();’” I said, running my thumb over the engraving. “A gift from my mom when I graduated.”

Priya’s gaze lingered. “She must be proud. Keep that close. You’ll need reminders like this around here—but you’ll do just fine.”

Something about her tone, warm yet knowing, settled my nerves a little. “Thanks,” I said, surprised by how much I meant it.

“Come on,” Priya said, gesturing toward the far end of the room. “Let’s meet the team.”

I followed her through the maze of workstations, trying not to gape at the developers hunched over monitors filled with lines of code that looked more like alien hieroglyphs. The collaborative hum of the office surrounded us—keyboards clicking, brainstorming whispers, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was oddly comforting, like stepping into a hive of brilliant, caffeinated bees.

Priya stopped at a cluster of desks where two people were deep in discussion. One was a man in a crisp button-down, his sleeves rolled up just enough to suggest casualness, though his rigid posture screamed authority. The other was a woman with vibrant purple hair, gesturing animatedly at her screen like she was conducting a symphony of pixels.

“Everyone, this is Andy Walker, our newest developer,” Priya announced, her voice cutting through the background noise.

The purple-haired woman turned first, her grin wide and disarming. “Welcome to the jungle, Andy. I’m Zara—design lead and unofficial keeper of sanity around here.”

I shook her hand, instantly liking her. “Nice to meet you. Sanity sounds great—I’ll take two.”

Zara laughed, and I felt a small wave of relief. At least someone here seemed approachable.

The man turned next, his pale blue eyes scanning me with a mix of curiosity and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Ethan Carter,” he said, his handshake firm but brief. “Backend lead. Welcome to Kelex.”

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to overanalyze his tone. He was polite, but there was a faint edge to his words, like he was already measuring me against some invisible yardstick.

Ethan’s gaze flicked to my bracelet, lingering for half a second before returning to my face. “Nice bracelet. Binary, right? Very on-brand.”

“Thanks,” I said, resisting the urge to tuck it under my sleeve. “My mom had it made for me. It’s kind of my good luck charm.”

“Luck’s fine,” Ethan said, his tone turning vaguely dismissive as the corners of his mouth twitched into a faint smirk. “But skill’s better. Let’s hope you’ve got plenty of both.”

I blinked, unsure if that was meant as a joke or a dig. Before I could respond, Priya stepped in smoothly.

“Andy’s got a solid track record,” she said, her smile warm but her tone firm. “She’ll fit right in.”

Ethan’s tight smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Looking forward to seeing what you’ve got.”

As he turned back to his screen, Zara leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t mind him. Ethan’s a bit old-school, but harmless. Mostly.”

“Good to know,” I whispered back, though my nerves were still doing cartwheels.

Priya led me to another part of the room, gesturing for me to take a seat. “You’ll get used to the personalities here. Just keep doing your thing, and don’t be afraid to ask for help. We’ve got your back.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely grateful.

She handed me a thick packet of documents. “Here’s everything you’ll need to get started. I’ve highlighted the key parts, but if you have questions, just ask. And don’t worry about Alexander. He has a lot on his plate, but he’s fair. Just… maybe keep your coffee at a safe distance.”

I laughed, the tension in my chest loosening just a fraction.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of onboarding tasks, orientation videos, and trying to remember everyone’s names. By the time lunch rolled around, I was starving and seriously considering a pitch for a desk-snack rotation.

Zara appeared at my desk, waving a takeout menu like a flag of truce. “Lunch?”

“Yes, please,” I said, grabbing my wallet.

We ended up at a long communal table in the break area, surrounded by employees swapping stories and updates. Priya joined us a few minutes later, her plate loaded with something that smelled amazing.

As we ate, Zara and Priya shared stories about their time at Kelex—the wins, the fails, and the occasional office pranks. Zara, it turned out, was just as sharp with her design skills as she was with her humor, animatedly describing how she had to “rescue” a branding disaster earlier that year. Hearing them talk, I realized that even in a high-pressure place like this, there was room for laughter and camaraderie.

Ethan passed by once, clutching a sleek Bluetooth remote as he muttered something about a presentation. His glance barely swept over us, but I couldn’t help feeling like I’d been released from some unspoken test the moment he walked away.

By the time lunch was over, I felt a little more grounded. Kelex was still overwhelming, but at least I wasn’t navigating it alone.

As I made my way back to my desk, I caught sight of Alexander through the glass walls of his office. He was leaning over his desk, scribbling something in a notebook with a polished fountain pen that gleamed under the overhead lights. His sharp features were framed by the city skyline behind him, an image so precise it could’ve been plucked from an ad for “intimidatingly successful tech moguls.”

For a moment, his gaze lifted, locking onto mine through the glass. His expression was unreadable—a mix of calculation and something softer, though I couldn’t tell if it was curiosity or amusement. Whatever it was, it made my stomach flip.

I quickly looked away, fiddling with my bracelet as my cheeks warmed. *Pull it together, Andy,* I told myself. *It’s just eye contact, not a server crash.*

Back at my desk, I took a deep breath and opened my laptop. One day down, a thousand more to go.

*Welcome to Kelex, Andy.*