Page 2 of Glass Jawed
Standing at the front of the lecture hall like this is just another day. Tall. Composed. Wearing that perfect ash-grey shirt like it was tailored for him. A watch gleaming under the lights. His voice—that voice—smooth and confident, like it’s never spat poison.
“—and I’m Lucian Vale, CEO and co-founder of Kepler Health. We’re working on scalable infrastructure to improve interoperability in veterinary healthcare systems. Five years ago, I didn’t even know what interoperability meant—”
Polite chuckles ripple through the room.
I don’t laugh.
Because he looks up.
And he sees me.
Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe I imagined it. His expression doesn’t shift. No flicker of recognition. No narrowed eyes. Just calm, detached professionalism.
Still, something coils in my gut.
Does he remember me?
God, I hope not. Fuck, I know he does.
How do you forget the girl your boyfriend cheated on you with? The one you screamed at. Humiliated. Called a whore. A homewrecking skank.
The one whose body you shredded with words.
I drop my gaze to my notebook and pretend to write. Anything to hide the burn on my face.
It’s been a year.
I’ve worked so hard to forget.
But Lucian Vale just walked back into my life like it was nothing.
I’m suddenly rethinking this course. Why, oh, why did he have to be a guest lecturer forthiscohort? Atthisuniversity?
Because I’m not walking out of this lecture hall with my dignity intact.
Because there’s no way Lucian doesn’t remember me with the way his gaze constantly flickers to me.
And I feel like I’m right back on that carpeted floor, naked, ashamed, and completely shattered.
??????
ONE YEAR AGO
“Fucking hell, girl! Justgo,” Katie groans, giving me a rather aggressive shove toward the bar’s exit.
Honestly? I don’t even know why I came out tonight. It’s not like I’m an introvert—but Katie can be relentless. In her words,she’s doing the Lord’s work by ’clearing out my cobwebs with precision and grace.’
Sure, I haven’t had sex since moving to Canada. And, fine, even before that, I’d broken up with my ex about four months before my one-way flight from Delhi to Toronto.
It’s been almost six months here, and Katie still looks personally offended every time I mention my nearly year-long dry spell.
Yes, I have a high sex drive. That’s not the issue.
But that doesn’t mean I’m about to crawl into bed with some hot stranger I met an hour ago at a sketchy bar on a dead Friday night.
Tim—assuming that’s even his real name—just winked at me and not-so-subtly stepped out for a smoke.
And now I’m being manhandled toward the door by Katie, all five-foot-eight of pure gym-sculpted menace.
