Page 38 of Glass Jawed
A little shrine.
A framed photo of Cooper, his cat. A collar. A paw print.
I’d lingered longer than I should’ve, reading the inscription on the urn beneath it.
I don’t know what it feels like to lose a pet, not really. But I know what it looks like to grieve something that mattered.
And Cooper clearly mattered to Lucian. Hell, the man built acompanyfor him.
So yeah. Maybe this is a little extra. But I can’t wait to give this to him.
Wait—we haven’t met today. Maybe I should change that?
Before my confidence has the chance to evaporate, I pull out my phone and shoot him a message. It’s just after 7 pm. He should be home by now.
Me: Are you home? Thought we’d grab dinner. I made chicken curry.
My stomach twists as I watch the little “delivered” shift to “read.”
I let out a tiny yelp.
Oh god. I’ve never initiated us hanging out before. This is completely untouched territory. I’m practically sprinting into it blindfolded.
But then—three dots.
Tunn-tunn!
Lucian: Baby, I love that Indian style chicken. Want me to grab some naan?
I smile, relaxing into the pillows behind me.
Me: I’ve got naan. My lazy ass could never run out of it.
Lucian: *beautiful ass
Me:??
Lucian: Come over. Bring an overnight bag.
My heart slams into my ribs so hard I actually miss a breath.
Me: omw!
Oh god.
Is this it?
Is tonight the night I lose my re-virginized coochie to the man who looks like he invented smirks and has hands big enough to ruin me?
Breathe, Aarohi. Breathe.
Ruth’s voice echoes in my head—Ease into it. Share, don’t hide. Let him see you. Let him prove he’s safe with your story before you give him your body.
Right. Okay. Slow. Steady. Chicken curry first, naked second.
Maybe.
Within twenty minutes, I’ve changed into something slightly cute but not too obvious, packed the still-warm chicken, naan, and the gift that I hope to god doesn’t make me look unhinged.
