Page 111 of Glass Jawed
We’ve never dated. Hell, I’ve never even been single when he was around. And the one time I was,hewas seeing someone. Timing was never our strong suit.
I remember the attraction, though. Faint but familiar.
Maybe... justmaybe, I need to see him in person to know if anything’s still there. Maybe things will snap back. Or maybe not.
But I could use a night out either way.
??????
“Are you serious?” Advik chuckles into his whiskey before taking a smooth sip.
“I’mnot!” I giggle, nearly choking on my drink. “Kashvi wasmortified. And it’s been years, and shestillcan’t stand the damn song—because ofyou.”
He’s full-on laughing now, deep and rich, the kind that makes heads turn. We’re cuddled into the corner of the booth, legs casually tangled, drinks half-finished. If Ishika weren’t too busy swooning all over Vikram, she’d be insufferably smug right now.
And honestly? She’d deserve it.
Because I was right—the physical attraction? Still very much alive.
Advik’s always been handsome. But now? With the beard, the confidence that comes with thirty-one and knowing exactly how you look in low bar lighting?
Yeah.Woah.
He’s also tall as hell. Taller than Lucian.
But every time I feel myself sinking into the ease of it, something inside me clenches. A low, simmering guilt I keep trying to shove away.
Fuck you, Lucian,I groan internally.
“We have to play that song at the wedding,” Advik says through his laughter, wiping at the corner of his eye.
We’re reminiscing about that infamous Mussoorie trip, years ago. Back when we were a rowdy pack of overgrown recent adults with no clue what we were doing.
Advik had convinced the DJ to playBeedi—Kashvi’s unofficial anthem during her cigarette era. She’d leapt onto a rickety bar table, bud dangling from her lips, and given us the most chaotic, unforgettable dance routine of all time.
I still have the video. She didn’t remember a thing the next day—until I showed her. And naturally, she blamed Advik like it was a criminal offense.
We’re both laughing again when I feel it.
His hand.
Resting on mybare thigh.
My spine prickles. The lightest touch, and yet my brain short-circuits.
Shit.
I glance down. His thumb is drawing soft, barely-there circles just above my knee. The tingles shoot straight up my spine, leaving behind warmth and chaos.
Do I stop it?
Let it happen?
My brain’s melting. And I’mbuzzed. So...
I let it.
“I noticed something,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “This is the first time in eight years we’rebothsingle.”
