Page 15 of Glass Jawed
I don’t remember her body clearly. Just a flash of limbs, brown skin, a messy tangle of hair, and something I saw as an intrusion. A walking symbol of betrayal.
But now... now I see her clearly. Skin warm under the string lights. The smooth lines of her collarbone. The small, steady pulse in her throat.
She’shot.
She was hot then, too. I just didn’t let myself register it.
She shifts in her chair, and I force my eyes back to her face. Neutral. Guarded.
Her friends really just left her here with me. No hesitation. No check-in. No,’Hey, are you good with this?’
I lean forward slightly. “Did you tell them?”
Her brow furrows. “Tell who what?”
“Your friends. About that night.”
A beat of silence. She looks down, then back up. “Why would I share that with absolute strangers?”
Strangers?
“You’ve known them for over a year, right?” I press.
“Year and a half, give or take,” she says with a shrug. “Doesn’t mean I’m willing to share my failures with them.”
Failures.
I smile internally. So, shedoessee it that way. Good. Something opens up inside me. A sick satisfaction. But I school my face and soften my tone.
“You didn’t fail, Aarohi.”
She raises her eyes to me, almost pleading. “Didn’t I?”
“You were lied to. That’s not failure. That’s... human.”
She huffs. “Tell that to the version of me who had to go home and shower off a stranger’s boyfriend.”
I let the pause hang. Because right now, I’m getting the reactions I was hoping for. My well-placed flinches and feigned apologies are drawing out her guilt. And I have no intentions to stop. In fact, I’menjoyingher discomfort. It validates something deep inside ofme.
“I meant what I said just now,” she continues, voice cool. “I didn’t know he was taken. And if I had, I wouldn’t have stayed.”
I nod slowly. “I believe you.”
She doesn’t say anything. Just presses her lips together and looks off toward the street. Her profile catches the low light, and I notice the slight tension in her jaw. Controlled. Not cold. Just... tight.
“Did you stay in the U.S. after the contract ended?” I ask casually.
She shakes her head. “I was never there. I just worked remotely. The company shut down. Ran out of money before Series A.”
I nod. I’m one of the lucky bastards who had an amazing COO going to bat for the company to get our series B funding. If not for Liam, we’d have dissolved within the first three years of our operations.
“What’s your endgame in Canada?” I prod. Trying hard to keep the conversation professional. Anything more and I’d reel myself into the sick game and unprompted plans slowly brewing in my head.
She shrugs. “Survive school. Get hired. Pay off the student loans. Not end up moving back to India.”
I know the life of an immigrant in Canada is not as easy. But I also know that they usually work hard to sustain their standing in the country. Hell, 50% of my workforce is either on a work permit or is a permanent resident.
“What roles do you think you’d want to be hired for?” I ask and tip my beer mug toward her. “After completing your degree, of course.”
