Page 28 of Kismet

Me: Yeah. If we’re going for honesty tonight, I never really stop. You’re basically on a constant loop in my mind.

Stone: What are you doing?

Me: In bed, talking to you. You?

Stone: Same. Kinda want to get out of the house and go for a drive, though.

Me: It’s after one in the morning.

Stone: Late night drives help clear my head sometimes.

Me: You should do it, then.

He doesn’t respond for a moment. I think he may have taken my advice, and I probably won’t hear from him again… until my phone dings.

Stone: Would you want to join me?

Holy shit. My stomach lunges into my throat. He wants me to go for a drive with him.In the middle of the night?! Am I dreaming?! My dumb ass actually reaches down and pinches myself.Nope. Not dreaming.

Me: Yeah. Sounds fun.

Stone: Okay. Give me a few minutes. I’ll text you when I’m outside.

Ripping the covers off me and flying out of bed, I fight with my sweats to get them pulled up, tossing a clean shirt over my head and pushing my arms through. Finding a matching pair of socks—which is harder than you’d think in the dark—I shove them on, slipping my feet into my Nike slides. I quietly dart for the bathroom across the hall, taking a leak, washing my hands, and brushing my teeth. By the time I’m done, a text is waiting for me, letting me know he’s outside.

What’s he wanting from this late-night drive? To talk, most likely, but maybe more kissing? After the way he acted after both times we’ve kissed, though, I doubt it. He’s probably wanting to put a stop to whateverthisis. Let me down easy, but do it outside of the classroom.

That thought makes my stomach twist and leaves a sour taste in the back of my throat.

Pocketing my phone, I quietly make my way out of my room and down the stairs. For it being a Friday night at a frat house, everyone is surprisingly either not home or already asleep. Works in my favor. I don’t really want to explain to anyone where I’m wandering off to in the middle of the night.

Getting to the sidewalk, I look to my left, not seeing anything. Turning my head to the right, a set of headlights flashes on and off… bingo! Not wanting to appear too eager or excited, I saunter toward the Mercedes, hands in my pockets.

Sliding into the passenger seat, I’m greeted with the scent of leather and spice, with a hint of tobacco, that I’ve come to associate with Stone. It’s calming and arousing in equal parts.

“Hey, teach.”

He glances over at me, a handsome smile that makes his dark eyes sparkle, sliding onto his face. He looks tired, like maybe he really hasn’t been getting sleep. I wonder what’s going on with him. I can’t imagine his lack of sleep is only because he’s thinking of me. “Hey, Cash. I hope this is okay. Seeing you sounded like just what I need... But I shouldn’t even be here.”

He looks away, and I can tell he’s really struggling with whatever he’s feeling and this situation. It’s written all over his face.

“It’s okay,” I assure him. “So, what are we going to do?”

“There’s a place I want to show you. It’s only about a twenty-minute drive.”

“Okay, let’s go, teach.”

What You Doby James Gillespie is playing through the car speakers, volume low. The energy in the car feels super charged. There are hardly any cars on the road, even less when he takes the on-ramp toward the highway. He has the heat on, but with the windows rolled down a few inches. The cool breeze mixed with the warm air feels good.

After almost exactly twenty minutes later, we pull up to an open field. It’s huge—in the dark, I can’t even tell where it ends—but the grass is maintained, so it must not be abandoned. He puts the car in park, unbuckling his seat belt but not making any move to get out.

“You take me here to kill me?” I laugh, unbuckling myself and turning my body toward him.

He chuckles. The deep, hearty sound wrapping around me like a vine to a tree, making my heart thump harder in my chest. Goosebumps rise all over my skin, either from the sound or the cool night air blowing through the open window. Maybe both.

“Definitely not killing you. Don’t worry. I apparently cross several ethical boundaries with you, but murder is not on the list.” He grins, grabbing his phone and changing the song.

The Band Camino’sThe Black and Whiteplays quietly. The gentle voice and soft melody fill the car, making the need to reach for him, touch him, almost unbearable. I want to ask him what this place is to him, but I don’t want to ruin whateverthisis. This moment… it’s unlike any other time I’ve spent with him. His mood, his energy, feels different. There’s an air of vulnerability to him right now, and I don’t want to spook him by asking too much.

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