Page 23 of Kismet

“Guess we just hang out until the lights come back on or the storm stops, then.” We’re both now sitting on a long student table, facing each other, sitting cross-legged.There’s a good three feet between us, but the proximity is still making my pulse race. The darkness, us being alone, the alcohol… it’s all a recipe for disaster, and I must be a glutton for punishment, because I can’t find it in me to care.

“Okay, twenty questions,” Cash announces, sounding pretty proud of himself.

“You’re joking,” I deadpan. This won’t end well.

“Nah. It’ll pass the time. Me first… if you could live anywhere in the country, where would that be?”

“Hm. I don’t know. Probably California if it wasn’t so fucking expensive. Living on the beach has always sounded like a dream to me.”

I take another swig of the whiskey, passing it to him.

“That’s cool. I’ve never been to California, but the whole California dream does sound nice. Okay, you’re up.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Nah. I’m an only child. What about you?”

“One older sister. Her name’s Molly. She’s four years older than me and my best friend.”

“I’ve always wanted siblings, but my parents had me and decided I was perfect.” He throws me a smirky grin, and I can’t help but laugh.

“It has its pros and cons. When I was a bratty teenager, I often wished I was an only child.”

He laughs, tossing back another swig, passing it to me. At this rate, we’re going to get wasted before the lights come back on. “You, a bratty teenager? I can’t picture that at all.”

“Oh, trust me, I was.”

“What did you do?” he questions, taking another swig off the bottle. “Use pen instead of pencil on your homework?”

I throw my head back and laugh at that one. “Very funny, smartass. I’ll have you know, I used to sneak out of the house a lot, and my sister would snitch on me every single time.”

“Sneak out to do what? Be with your wife?” His voice dips low as he studies me, an elbow rested on his knee with his chin propped on his palm.

“Well, she wasn’t my wife at the time, but yes. Or go to parties.”

He hums to himself. “Think I would’ve liked to see party boy Stone,” he utters, handing me the bottle. “Your turn to ask a question, teach.”

Taking a swig, I think of something I’ve wanted to know. “What’s the story with the ring you wear?” I ask, not sure why I feel the need to know so strongly.

He glances down at it before returning his attention to me. “How do you know there’s a story?”

“I don’t, I suppose. Just guessing.”

“It was my grandfather’s. My dad’s dad. We were really close. He was a farmer. Had all kinds of animals—cattle, horses, goats, chickens. I have vivid memories of me helping him during the summers when I was little. Feeding them, cleaning up after them. He’d even let me ride the horses sometimes if I worked extra hard. Anyway, he got sick when I was in fifth grade, lung cancer. Before he died, he gave me this ring. It was given to him by his grandpa when he graduated from high school. It didn’t fit my tiny kid fingers at the time, so I wore it around my neck on a chain until I grew into it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, but it’s okay. It’s life.”

“Still hard, especially being as young as you were, and having such good memories with him.” We watch each other for a moment, the room illuminated only by the light peeking in through the window. Something’s shifted by him opening up to me with this deeply personal story. I know we’re walking in dangerous territory now. “You’re up,” I say, barely above a whisper.

“Do you remember that time we ran into each other at that dive bar? When you were there with your wife?”

“I do.” How could I forget? My eyes were drawn to him, couldn’t look away. He stands out in a crowd, with his pretty boy face and that bright, warm smile. There’s no way, in no universe, where I wouldn’t have noticed him and vividly remembered that night.

“I didn’t realize you were my teacher at first,” he confesses. Even in the dark, I can make out the slight pink to his cheeks. “You looked so fucking hot that night. I knew you were attractive before then, but goddamn, that night. It changed the way I looked at you.”

Grabbing the bottle, he takes a big swig. Something in his jerky movements tells me he didn’t fully mean to admitthatmuch.

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