Page 4 of Coincidentally Kismet

Taking a slow, deep breath, sucking in the mildew and yesterday’s-beer-scented air, I quickly brush my hands over my hair to smooth it and collect myself. The humidity here is insufferable, which means no amount of time spent flat ironing or curling can keep this mane tamed.

A small jingle chimes as the door swings open, alerting me to the newly arrived guest. There’s an audible gasp from the women in the bar followed by a bellowing of oohs and aahs, and I know Elliott is here without even looking.

He has this face, not so different from mine but less soft and more chiseled. A small dimple in his chin that I’ve heard all manner of, frankly, disturbing comments about. He isn’t exactly tall, but not short either; he’s average, I suppose. What he lacks in overwhelming height, though, he makes up for in physique. He works out and eats a ridiculous food regimen to stay in shape.

I wish I had his willpower, I do. But I also just enjoy life. Maybe if I was a little more realistic or determined, I could lose those fifteen pounds once and for all. I’m not a huge woman, but I’m curvy, and being on the shorter side doesn’t help. Hell, I look at a donut and it practically staples itself to my ass.

Elliott sweeps up beside me, effortlessly sliding onto a stool, completely unfazed by the attention he garners everywhere he goes. I swear, it’s like he doesn’t even notice how he devastates women just by existing and tossing them a smirk once in a while.

“Cam, you could have warned me not to come overdressed. I didn’t realize I was meeting you at a literal shack.”

I gape at him. “I like it, it’s cozy.” He literally scoffs at me.The audacity of this man.

My brother, older than me by a few years, is not uptight or snobby, but he does appreciate the finer things in life and has worked hard to be able to afford them. Me, on the other hand, I’ll just be over here slumming it in the Crab Shacks of the world, and frankly, I’m okay with that.

I’ve accepted that while my job is pretty exciting and has potential, it’s not something I’m going to make a fortune doing, at least not anytime soon. Most of my money goes to my ridiculous rent. Lo, my roommate, can be a bit of a penny-pincher, so I’m not getting any freebies from her.

Elliott orders a Landshark, politely telling the bartender to keep the lime while simultaneously whispering to me about how he doesn’t know what’s been lurking around the cut fruit in this “shack.” I ignore him and explain the menu, pointing out what I’ve been told is good, attempting to settle his nerves a bit. He levels me with a look and says, “Okay...seriously, Cam, how are you? You look great, the tan you’re rocking is doing things for your face.”

A snort sneaks out of me almost immediately; my brother has a way with words, ladies. In all seriousness, though, he kind of does, but we’ve never been all that good at compliments. I think it comes with the territory of being a Wright. You’re expected to have a friendly-yet-stiff upper lip, a thick skin if you will.

“I’m good, great actually. Salon life is interesting but in the best way,” I assure him.

“How’s working for America’s top stylist? Dreamy and delightful, or is he secretly a diva who claimed you for hispeasant girl?” He mocks me by dramatically tossing his hand to his forehead—sarcasm is clearly one of his strong suits.

“Not at all. Daveed is good—he’s like the parent I always wanted and never had. He loves us and takes pride in feeding me copious amounts of sweet potato fries. What’s not to love?” Taking a glug of the cool, crisp tiki-inspired blueberry drink I ordered, I toss him a megawatt smile.

“Tsk-tsk, what would Patricia say?” He feigns disbelief, but I can tell he’s joking.

“Honestly, I don’t care. Should I keep a quarter next to me at each meal to help my waistline? Yes. Am I going to? No. I am burning calories just walking to my car in this sweatbox.” It niggles at my brain, the fact that I’ve gained weight, because deep down I do care. I always wanted to be thin, modelesque if you will. But I’m not, and the reminder of my mother’s insane method of shaming me doesn’t serve me. It’s hard enough to stop my brain from overthinking about each crumb I consume, I don’t need any other reminders of my imperfections.

“Good. You shouldn’t care what anyone thinks. But as a man who loves women, I have to say, in a very non-creepy brother way, that you are gorgeous. I hope you don’t ever believe for a second otherwise.” He shifts his eyes to a passing bartender, ever the flirt on the prowl.

“Thanks, El. Now eyes over here.” I snap my fingers, recapturing his attention. “Tell me about your work, am I going to see you more often?”

“Maybe. Depends if I can close this deal first. If I do, there will be lots of routine visits. Better tell that roommate of yours to make room for the big bro.” Winking at me, he sips down the last of his beer, standing to seek out a bartender for another.

“What’s happening to your face?” Elliott breaks into my thoughts when he returns, fresh drink in hand. “Please do not tell me it has something to do with William Davenport again.”

I feign shock and horror, probably overselling it. I suppose I shouldn’t mention the very inappropriate dream I had no less than thirty minutes ago. “No...I was just thinking of how much I miss you and how nice it is to just grab a beer and breathe in the familiar. Why would you even think it would have anything to do with he-who-shall-not-be-named?”

“Cam, you know you can always come home, right? There are great salons downtown, and you wouldn’t even have to be a shampoo girl.” His beer is tilted toward me as if I should cheers him and finally give up the act I’m putting on for the family. Conveniently he doesn’t address the comment about Will. I’m not sure if anyone in my immediate circle believes I ever got over him.

“I’m not a shampoo girl, even though that’s what Mom probably tells everyone,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m in training, I’m learning from the best of the best, and I need this time to find myself after dropping out of college and running straight into cosmetology school. Everything is a blur at this point.”

“No, you need this time to find someone new. He’s moved on, it’s been five years. Cam, he isn’t coming back and even if he did, you’re not at home. So what, he’s supposed to magically know you moved to Florida and come find you?” There it is, we’ve come full circle on my suspicion. Elliott shakes his head as if he’s the one exasperated by this conversation.

Nothing infuriates me more than my family, especially Elliott, insisting that I’m still hung up on Will. Did it suck when he dumped me and ditched our well-laid-out plans? Yeah, I’ve got the scars to prove it. Do I have sex dreams about the dude after every date I go on? Also yeah. But I really am over him. If he walked in the door right now, I would not give him a minute of my time because I’ve walked that road before. I’m older and wiser now.

“Elliott, I promise, I’m moving on...I even downloaded a dating app. I’m getting out there, I had a date earlier today actually.” I know I sound desperate, and maybe I am, but I really don’t want to discuss this with him, or anyone else for that matter.

“Whatever you say, we all just worry about you. There is literally no way you could have met your soulmate in high school. Honestly, the girls I dated in high school...hard pass.”

I should be offended by the utter disgust blossoming on his face—instead, I cackle, thinking about the girls he dated back then. The way he had his pick of the “best” ones was obscene. They were all beautiful and had absolutely nothing between their ears.

He’s had a couple of girlfriends over the years that have been okay, but the current one...well, let’s just say I’ve never really liked her. She’s nice enough, but she doesn’t seem to be all that into him, which frankly, how dare she. He’s a catch compared to the available market I’ve seen. Thankfully, Elliott drops the hard-ass questioning routine, and we settle back into catching up on life.

He tells me why he’s in town and says that if he can finally close this deal with Tampa General, he might be considered for a senior development rep position at work. I’m so proud of him. I don’t know how a small-town Iowa farm boy turned into a hotshot sales rep who exudes swagger, but he did. I’d be lying if I denied the twinge of jealousy I feel, but he also gives me a shred of hope for myself.

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