Page 28 of Glass Jawed
“I’m not done, Rohi,” I say, calm but low. “Please. Just... give me two more minutes.”
She stiffens, her hand pausing mid-motion, but she doesn’t reach for the handle again.
Good.
“Whatever ignorant shit I said tonight,” I continue, “I swear it wasn’t meant to hurt you. If it did, I—God, I hate that I even made you feel that way.”
She turns to me slowly, her eyes almost glassy. “Lucian, I... listen—I may have overreacted but... I don’t want to sign up for snide remarks and careless taunts—even if it’s just friendship.”
Fuck. Friendship? I feel like I just got demoted.
I grit my teeth and force myself to stay soft. Stay charming.
“I know.” I reach for her hand again, gentler this time. She lets me, though her fingers stay limp. “And Iamsorry. I’ll do better. Be better.”
“I feel like you’re still not over what happened and this...” she waves her other hand between us, “...is some way for you to get past it or something.”
Her words are calm. Measured. But they hit like a slap.
Not over it? The hell I’m not.
I’ve buried that night. Formonths. But seeing her again unearthed everything—and now I’m the one being accused of dragging it back?She’sthe one who keeps bringing it up.
Swallow my anger and exhale slowly.
“I get it,” I rasp. “But I promise you it’s not that. And you’re right. I do have to work on myself. But don’t mistake that for lack of interest on my part.”
I shift closer, just enough that my breath ghosts against her cheek. “Because, sweetheart... whatever this is? It’ll be a hell of a lot more than justfriendship.”
I lean in and press the lightest kiss to her cheek. A deliberate move. Soft. Intimate. Not asking for more—but promising it. What I don’t expect is for my lips to have a mind of their own and refuse to end this cheek-kiss.
When I pull back, her eyes are wide. Shocked. Unreadable.
Her brows lift, but she seems flustered. “Umm... okay. One month of friendship. If it doesn’t work—it doesn’t work. You good with that?”
I find that absolutely reasonable. Because one month with this woman—regardless of my plan—should be fun.
I smirk and shrug lightly. “As you wish, Rohi. One month andI’llbe the one doing the pursuing until you’re ready to admit it’s not justfriendship.”
She lets out the ghost of a laugh, disbelieving. “You’re impossible.”
“Persistent,” I correct, smiling. “There’s a difference.”
A beat of silence settles between us. It’s less sharp this time. More like a truce. She reaches for the door again, and I let her. This time, she opens it.
“Goodnight, Lucian,” she says softly, her voice still guarded—but not cold like before.
“Goodnight, Rohi,” I echo. “Sleep well.”
She shuts the door behind her. I watch her walk away through the passenger window, the overhead streetlamp catching the faint glimmer of her earrings as she disappears toward her building.
I sit there for a moment longer, then shift into gear and drive back to my condo. Thirty minutes later, I’m in sweatpants, pouring leftover Macallan into a glass. Still brooding over how close I came to blowing it.
Then my phone buzzes.
Her name.
My pulse kicks up as I open the message.
