Page 178 of Glass Jawed
He freezes like he just got sniped.
When he turns, he looks panicked, wide-eyed, ready to break down a door. I can see the aftermath of a massive flinch.
A pang of guilt smacks me right in the chest.
He sprints over. Full-on sprints.
Kashvi, ever the opportunist, raises an impressed brow. “Ooooh. Let me try.”
She turns her head and belts out, “LIAAAMMM!”
I blink. “Where even is he—”
Oh—therehe is.
Running toward her like a loyal golden retriever, one shoe half on.
“Damn. It works,” Kash mutters, clearly plotting world domination.
Meanwhile, Lucian reaches me. Drops the box onto a couch mid-stride, then drops to his knees beside me, right next to the poor henna lady who’s still carefully tracing out her little masterpiece amidst my mental breakdown.
“Hey—hey! What’s wrong?” he asks, out of breath, eyes scanning my face. “You look like you’re about to cry.”
“I’m... I’m dehydrated,” I whisper, tragically.
He blinks, realization dawning, and then gives me that devastatingly soft smile.
“At your service, baby. You want anything to eat?”
From beside me, Kashvi lets out an exaggerated gag. I ignore her.
Lucian’s hand slides to my thigh in a soothing motion, then glides up to gently rub my upper arms—careful to stay above themehendiso he doesn’t ruin a single swirl.
I shake my head. “No.”
Liam is hovering nearby, doing the same to Kashvi, except there’s no question in his tone—she’s clearly barking orders like a drill sergeant.
“I’ll be back,” Lucian says, rising to his feet, grabbing the abandoned box from earlier, and walking off.
I pout as I watch him leave. Shit. I’m already having withdrawals.
And no, I’m not even drunk. Or tipsy. I just need hydration—andhim. Mostly hydration. Okay, maybe both.
Two full minutes pass. Then Lucian returns.
He has a tall steel glass in one hand and a straw peeking out.
Oh my heart.
The condensation on the glass is already making me salivate. He brings the straw to my lips with all the ceremony of a romantic hero.
I take a sip—and my eyes fly open.
“It’s... it’s... lemonade,” I whisper, shocked.
He chuckles. “Yeah. Now drink up.”
And he doesn’t move. For the next ten minutes.
