Page 89 of Kismet

My mind will never let me forget the pain. It’ll never let me see past that. But my heart? That shit yearns for him. Like a piece of mine is gone and only he can mend it. His soul sings a siren song, and I’m unable to stay away. It’s fucking pathetic.

The water starts to get cold again, and I finally wash myself before getting out. After slipping on some boxers, I turn off the light and then slide into bed under the covers. Sleep is out of the question. My mind is too loud to even try.

He was almost mine.

But it’s thatalmostthat breaks my heart every time.

I wonder if his late night-lying awake-unable to sleep thoughts ever lead him back to me the way mine do with him. And if he lies in the dark, mind spinning, trying to remember how I taste or how I feel, if it hurts him the way it does me.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand beside me, and it pulls me out of my thoughts. Somehow, without even looking, I already know who it is. Against my better judgment, I grab the phone and look at the screen, confirming what I already knew. Icouldjust ignore it. Deny it. That’s what Ishoulddo. That’s what a stronger man would do.

Before my mind can talk me out of it, I press accept and put the call on speaker. I remain quiet, not saying anything as I lay the phone beside my head on the pillow. My body rolls onto its side and my hands come up to rest underneath my cheek.

“Cash? Are you there?”

His deep, rich voice brings goosebumps to my skin and a heavy thumping to my chest. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine he’s right here beside me. Can almost feel his hot breath on my face. Feel the weight of his stare.

When I don’t say anything, he continues. “I’m sorry. Cash, I’m so fucking sorry. For everything. You deserve way more than what I gave you. I miss you. So fucking much. Please…”

His breathing reverberates through the phone. I don’t know why he’s sayingplease, but it comes out pleading and broken. Desperate.

“There has never been a time I haven’t thought about you over the years, Cash.Never. I just need you to know that. I need you to know I didn’t forget about you, didn’t move on. And I need you to know how fucking… sorry I am.”

The pressure behind my eyes is insurmountable, and my throat aches with a thick ball of buried emotions. My heart is heavy and damn near beating its way through my rib cage, and I have to bite my lip to keep it from quivering, holding back the sob that’s threatening to come out.

I end the call before he can hear me break down. Turning my face into my pillow, I do just that. The floodgates open and I soak my pillow with the missed memories and all the things I want but can’t have. Eventually, sleep takes me and thankfully it’s a dreamless night.

Sunday was spent writing. I drank endless cups of coffee and stayed in my pajamas the whole day, typing away on my laptop until my mind was too tired to think and my fingers were cramped. Sleep somehow came easily to me that night, and by the time I woke Monday morning, I almost felt like a normal human again.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Stone Philips

Two Months Later—Late February

It’s cold as hell outside—well, it’s Texas cold. It’s about fifty degrees out as I make my way to work this morning. It’s a bright and sunny day, and something in the air makes me think it’s going to be a great day.

It’s been two months since Cash and I made out at the fundraiser and since we spoke about anything non-work related. That night I called him and spoke my feelings into dead air. He didn’t say anything, but I knew he was listening. I told myself after that night, I’d respect him and give him his space. It was much harder than I thought it would be.

But I did it.

I didn’t reach out, didn’t bother him, and when he saw me in the halls or in the office, he would act like I was just another colleague. His Instagram has been my favorite pastime, just like it has been for years. I watched his life through a series of pictures and videos.

He’s done a lot of swimming, a lot of writing, and he spent his winter break with his family in Dallas, then spent New Year’s in California with his friend, Kylie. That was the only time I let myself give in and call him. I was drunk and lonely. Of course, he didn’t answer. In fact, he denied the call altogether. Didn’t even let it ring through to voicemail.

My New Year’s Resolution: Get him back. He fell for me once; he trusted me once. I’m determined to get back to that place with him. After the kiss at the fundraising event, I knew he needed time. Which I’ve given him. But time’s up. I’m done sitting around, waiting. Done being unhappy when I know with full certainty that we could be happy together. I’m done waiting because I know he feels the same; he’s just too hurt and stubborn to admit that. Which is how I found myself outside of the university’s aquatic center at a quarter to eight this morning.

I’ve watched Cash through his social media enough times to know he swims every single morning before work. Without fail. And right before he goes to his first class, he stops at the coffee cart to grab an iced coffee.

Okay, the last part I didn’t learn by watching his Instagram. I’ve just happened to see him there enough times since it’s located by the main building, and I can see the cart from my office window.

God, I sound like such a fucking creep.

Taking the steps to the aquatic center two at a time, I pull open the wide glass door and make my way inside. It’s quiet. I’d imagine not many people come here this early. If I remember correctly, our swim team doesn’t practice until the afternoon.

I don’t come in here often, but I know where to go. The floors leading to the pool are freshly waxed and shiny. My black Oxfords squeak with each step I take. My pulse kicks up the closer I get, and my stomach is doing flips. Part of me hopes to see him, the other part hopes I’m able to just leave the coffee and go.

I want him towantto talk to me. Come to me and not feel obligated. I’m not here bringing him an iced coffee to make him talk to me. I simply want him to have a great start to his day, and if a little coffee helps with that, then so be it.However, I wouldn’t bemadif he saw me, and realized it was me doing this. Maybe then he’d finally believe I care about him.

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