Page 56 of Kismet

“That’s smart. She’ll probably have solid advice for you. An outsider’s opinion. Unbiased.”

Julian and I shoot the shit for the next thirty minutes before dinner is done. We all sit at their dining room table, dishing up, and digging in. Monday nights are always dinner nights here with them. When I moved here five years ago, I stayed with them while I got back on my feet. Then, when I moved into my own place, we designated Mondays as a family dinner night.

“So, what’s new with you two?” I ask, shoveling a huge bite of lasagna into my mouth. My sister makes the best homemade lasagna.

“Not much in my corner,” my sister says. “We have a new doctor at work, but that’s about it. She seems nice.” Molly is a neonatal nurse at a private practice here in Lubbock.

“That’s awesome, Mol. What about you, Julian?”

“Nothing exciting in regard to work,” he grumbles, taking a swig of his beer. “The club is doing a huge potluck next weekend. You should come.” He is a member of a motorcycle club, The Dirty Henchmen, and has been for as long as I’ve known him. Despite the stereotypes that go along with bikers, they’re a bunch of really fucking nice, cool guys. I’ve been to several of their events and have gone on dozens of rides with them since I’ve moved to Texas.

“Yeah, I can probably do that. Thanks for the invite, man.”

We finish dinner and hang out for a bit, before I eventually head out. My house is about a twenty-minute drive from Molly’s and when I get home, I shower quickly before climbing into bed. I open Instagram, scrolling through my feed, trying to avoid doing what I really want to do. The urge is too loud, though, and before I know it, I’m typing Cash DeMarco into the search bar, like I’ve done many times before.

It’s not healthy, and I’ve tried like hell to avoid it for the last few months, which is how I must’ve missed him moving here, but I can’t help it. The pull to him is too strong, even after all these years. I easily find his profile, scrolling through the pictures I’ve missed since last stalking his profile. There are a few pictures from his graduation, packing up his house, his road trip here, and even a picture from this morning of him at the University pool.

It still blows my mind that he’s here.

I know he had a boyfriend for a long time. His fucking roommate, Xander. I wonder if he came with him or what happened there. Looking at the pictures of them together stung every time. But like the masochist I am, I looked at each and every one. I have no right being hurt or angry by his dating choices. I left.

Locking my phone and setting it on the nightstand, plugged into the charger, I stare up at the ceiling, replaying today in my mind. He looks ridiculously good. You can tell he’s older, his baby face not as prominent. His dark hair is thick and perfectly styled, and he has more facial hair than he ever did back then. It dusts over his sharp jaw, around his full lips, and covers his protruding Adam’s apple.

He dresses differently now too; although, I’m sure that’s simply because he was at work. He was wearing tight black slacks that still won’t leave my mind. They hugged his thick thighs and round ass perfectly, along with a white button-down shirt, no tie. I also noticed he still dons that gold ring on his finger.

He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

And he used to be mine. Well, sort of.

My dick rouses at the thought of what we had back then. The way he slipped and called me “sir” in my office today. The look of surprise and embarrassment on his face when the memory crossed his mind. Fuck, his neck heated up a brilliant shade of pink that spilled over his cheeks.

Ignoring my now fully erect cock, I roll to my side, forcing myself to go to sleep. I refuse to jack off to the thought of himagain.

This is so bad.

Chapter Nineteen

Cash DeMarco

“Okay, so spill! How’s the new job?”

I just got home from work, and the minute I entered my house, Kylie FaceTimed me. We haven’t been able to talk for more than a few texts here and there since I got here two weeks ago. I just finished my second week at Texas Tech. This was my first full week with students. I’m a real fucking professor, and I can’t believe it.

I wince at the question. “So, you’re going to kick my ass for not telling you this immediately, but I’ve been so fucking busy…”

“Alright, ominous. What is it?”

“The dean… he’s Stone.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her eyes go as wide as they are right now. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up!”

“I’m serious.”

“Cash fucking Charles!”

“I know, I know. It’s fucking insane, right?”

“Wait—” Her brows furrow as she picks up the phone from where it was propped on her kitchen counter. “Did you know this beforehand?”

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