Page 22 of Glass Jawed
After paying, they move toward a quiet booth near the back and I try not to stumble through the next few orders. But I can feel his gaze on me. Unrelenting. Like he’s carving something out of the moment.
When the rush eases, I sneak a glance at my phone under the counter.
Lucian: I was trying to find a reason to text you. Guess the universe just made things easier.
I glance up.
He’s not talking. Just watching me. Like he knows I read it. Like he’s waiting. He taps on his phone, all while his eyes are locked on me.
Another buzz.
Lucian: One look and I forgot my pitch deck.
I stare at my phone. My fingers curl around the edge of the counter.
No.
No, no, no.
I look up again—but this time, his smile is different.
There’s something predatory in it. Something that promises he’s just getting started.
And for some stupid reason, my heart skips anyway.
SEVEN
Aarohi
This is nerve-wracking.
Since our last exchange almost a week ago, Lucian hasn’t stopped texting. It’s like a floodgate burst open—and once I responded that one time, he took it as an invitation to never shut it again.
Lucian: Good morning, Ms. Talwar. Did the coffee at your café miss me today, or was it just you?
Lucian: You crossed my mind during a stakeholder meeting. Again. Starting to think it’s a habit.
Lucian: You made me work for that answer in class today. Your question was by far the most interesting one. Just saying... next time, at least bring me coffee as a peace offering.
Lucian: I was reading some old investor emails tonight and realized something weird... My days used to end with pitch decks and caffeine. Now they end with me checking if you replied. No pressure. Just... something shifted. You have a way of sneaking in quietly. Not sure what to make of it. Goodnight, Aarohi.
His messages became progressively longer, more detailed. I replied every time but always felt like a deeper question was hanging between us. I just didn’t know what that question was.
Still, every time my phone chimed, I felt a little jolt along my spine. Not quite butterflies... but close. Dangerous territory.
Someone really needs to slap me back to reality, because I went ahead and assigned a different notification tone to his contact. That’s right. Icustomizedit.
So now, whenever my phone goesTing!, I barely glance. But when it’sTunn-tunn!, I’m doing Olympic-level gymnastics. Hobbling off the bed to the dresser, stumbling while walking, choking mid-bite.
And now I’m here. Sitting across from him in a dimly lit luxury Italian restaurant, staring hard at a menu that doesn’t list a single price next to the entrées.
How much do startup founders on the brink of Series B funding make again? Two hundred? Three hundred grand?
Gahhh.
“Have you decided what to eat?” His deep voice pulls me out of my trance.
“Uh... yeah. I don’t know. I’ve never tried Italian like this. This place seems...”
