Page 85 of Kismet

My attention is brought to the front of the room, where Stone is now standing on the stage, getting everyone’s attention. This is an annual fundraiser the school runs to raise money for the sports department. Why an English professor is required to attend is beyond me.

As always, he looks annoyingly handsome. His tux is black, the fit showcasing his broad shoulders in a way that should be illegal. He’s wearing a black bow tie, and his hair is styled back perfectly. His beard looks like it was trimmed, and his smile is wide and bright.

He’s so annoying. What fucking right does he have to look that fucking good? Why couldn’t he look like an ogre? That would make my life so much easier. He starts his pretentious speech, his voice sounding like sensual velvet. He thanks everyone for coming, talks about the school—all the boring shit I couldn’t care less about, but everyone is watching and listening, rapt, hanging onto every word that drips from his tongue.

He has the audience laughing, which pisses me off further, and when he finishes his speech, he receives a roaring round of applause as he exits the stage. Of course, I track his every move once he leaves that stage. He walks right up to a woman, who I thought was his date at first glance, but it’s actually Molly.

Interesting. Did he not come with a date? Not that I care. He can do whatever the fuck he wants. After his confession at the clubhouse—which I don’t fully know if I believe him—it’s probably safe to assume he and Aida aren’t together. Either that, or they’re still in a sexless marriage. Whichever one, I don’t fucking care. He isn’t my concern. Not my business.

Downing the rest of my champagne, I stroll over to the bar and order a new one. If I have to be here all night long, at least there’s an open bar.

“Hi, Cash,” a feminine voice says from beside me. I know who it is before I even turn my head.

My gaze connects with a pair of hazelnut eyes that look all too similar to another pair I’m trying not to think about. “Hey, Molly. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. How are you?”

“Not too bad.”

Please don’t talk about Stone.

“You know,” she says.Here we go.“It was really nice having you at the barbeque at the clubhouse. It meant a lot to Stone that you came. I know you guys have a rough history.”

“Do you?” Looking over at her, I cock my head to the side and lift my brow. What exactly does she know?

Her smile is small, but genuine. “He told me.”

“Did he also tell you that he left without a single word?” My blood pressure is rising. I should walk away. This isn’t going to solve anything, but I can’t. I’m stuck in place, needing to hear what she says.

“Cash, it’s not what you think…”

“That’s the thing… I don’t know what to think, Molly. He’s told me nothing.” I’m being unfair. I know that. It isn’t her fault, and she’s trying to do what’s right by her brother. But in this moment, I can’t find it in me to care.

The bartender finally hands me my new drink. I take a deep, calming breath before turning to face Molly again. I can’t get into this here with her.

I give her the best smile I can manage, even though I’m sure it looks pinched. “It was great to see you, Molly, but I should get going.”

“You too, Cash. Have a great night.”

Making my way back to the other English professors, we make small talk before dinner is served. Stella talks my ear off all throughout dinner, despite my clear disinterest in conversation.

She really doesn’t know how to take a hint.

After dinner, they open up the dance floor, and several bodies trickle out and start moving along to the pulsing music the DJ is playing. I’m on my fifth or sixth champagne at this point… I’ve lost track. My head is feeling fuzzy and I’m actually starting to enjoy watching all the drunk people grind against each other like this is a high school dance.

That is, until my eyes connect with a familiar pair from across the room. He’s already looking at me, lips turned up into a grin. He’s standing beside Molly, and she’s talking to one of the guests.

As much as I want to look away, I can’t. We’re caught in a trance, a magnetic pull that only we can feel. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with him. Be his partner. Be the man on his arm. If he never left, would it be that way?

My bubbly infused mind wonders if I should go talk to him. Clear the air. Just as I get to my feet and head over there, someone touches my arm. I spin around and come face to face with Stella.

Jesus.

“Hey, wanna dance?”

“Oh, uh.” Rubbing the back of my neck and bouncing between my feet, I try to think of a way to get out of this. “I don’t think so. I’m really not that great of a dancer.”

“Nonsense!” she shrieks, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the dance floor. “It’s a slow dance. Everyone can slow dance.”

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