Glasses Stories Novels & Stories

His musclebound arm tightens around my waist, “Tell me.” I adopt a placating tone, flattening my palms against his broad chest. “I can see, my eyes are just sensitive to light.” I explain, “Or they used to be. I don’t know when it got better, I think I just got so into the habit of wearing the glasses, it never occurred to me to take them off.” “Mmm,” something between a purr and a growl rolls through his chest. “You mean you got so used to hiding behind them.”

She’s fully healed and back to her wild self after her hospital stay, and she’s even moved into a better apartment with the extra income from working for me. Milo has been sharing the news of our grand opening by word of mouth around the office, and from what I hear from Rhett, it’s become the talk of the building and everyone wants to come opening night. “Hey babe, where do you want these glasses?” he asked. I had leaned onto the bar and was admiring him with my chin in my palm. “What?” He chuckled. “Nothing. Just admiring you.” “Can you admire me when I’m not holding forty pounds of glass?”

Forty-seven stories of glass and the man at the top of it and the ledger hidden inside its walls and everything that happens in the next hour determining what the rest of their lives look like. "Yes," she says. They went in and that was all.

he said as he got out his tools and came to examine my eyes. "Your eyes seem okay, and you seem to be improving faster," the doctor observed. "Thank you, Doctor," my grey eyes beamed with intensity. "Are you experiencing any difficulties?" the doctor asked. "Ehm, just that my vision gets blurry with the glasses on... Yes, like I feel I'm going blind from the glasses," I added. "Oh, sorry about that," the doctor stated. "I think I will prescribe you new glasses to help with that. And please stay off them as often as possible, so it wouldn't damage your already-made progress."

Glass catching the afternoon. He pressed it to his face, He held it there for one long breath. Then he pulled it down. He looked at the window. Empty. She was in New York. He wiped his hands dry. He did not examine the specific ache of a man who had spent two and a half years maintaining a lock that had just failed completely in a swimming pool on a Saturday morning while teaching his daughter to be a mermaid. He picked up his phone. He went inside.

The word echoed in my head as I stepped out. So this wasn’t about the file. This was about something else. Something I didn’t even understand. The moment I got back into my office, I walked straight to the shelf, turning my back to the glass walls. Then I allowed it. The tears flowed freely. My chest tightened as the tears flowed. I was tired. I was exhausted. I was…fed up. I pulled off my eyeglasses, wiping my face quickly before anyone could notice. Crying wouldn’t fix anything. It wouldn’t change anything.

The tattoos along his back and arms shift slightly with every movement, like they’re alive, like they follow him instead of sitting on him. And then, glasses. I blink. “…You wear glasses?” He glances over his shoulder, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Sometimes.” I step in a little more, curiosity getting the better of me. “For what?” “Mild astigmatism,” he says, turning back to the stove. “Long hours, screens… makes it worse.” I nod slowly, even though he can’t see me. It’s such a small detail, but it makes him feel human.

He said in an amused tone. I gulped again and slowly raised my head up. My stomach twisted uncomfortably as I took in his fine features. His sharp blue eyes stared deep into me from behind that pair of glasses he was putting on. Wait! He had a pair of glasses? Those things were highly rare and expensive. Only highly wealthy people could be seen to possess it. Even most Alphas of several prominent packs didn't have the wealth enough to own a pair of glasses. I tried not to show my surprise but I was sure I was doing a terrible job at that.

However I did find the spot where I saw the man looking. Someone hooked their foot around mine and I tripped. My glasses went tumbling from my face and the principal just went on to the other name. I sniffed, forcing the tears pooling in my eyes not to fall. I raised my body from the ground with my hands, using my knees as support as I began to feel around the floor for my glasses, the palm of my hands becoming slightly bruised by the concrete floor. Through my blurred vision I spotted a slender dark object that I assumed was my black rim glasses. Suddenly a pair of red stiletto heels stepped onto the glass frame. The crunch set a sickening feeling in my stomach and my tears fell. I grit my

Before going i saw my reflection in the mirror and whispered to myself, “Damn, your girl looks so fine. I’m not about to play with this position.” In about 10 minutes, I arrived at Vans and Sterling Company — and boy, this place was flashy. From the security men dressed in all black uniforms who happily opened the doors for me, to the gleaming polished floors and sky- high walls, I instantly knew I hit the jackpot with this position. “Thank you, Jesus,” I whispered under my breath, fully aware that it was only through Him that I had gotten this spot.