Page 92 of Kismet

“Got done early. Wanted to figure out who’s been leaving me coffee every day this week.” My arms cross over my chest as I study him. “Why are you doing it?”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. As if the answer is clear as day. “What do you mean, why?”

“Uh,I mean, why are you bringing me coffee? What do you get out of it? I wouldn’t have even known it was you if I hadn’t finished early.”

“I’m not doing it to get anything out of it. I’m doing it so you hopefully have a good start to your days.” He averts his gaze from me and his cheeks pinken slightly.

My heart squeezes in my chest, and it feels like I’m not even in my body right now. Like I’m watching it from the outside.Why would he do that?

“How do you even know where to find me, or what I drink?”

Breathing is becoming challenging. I can hear the blood whooshing in my ears as I desperately wait for his response.

“The coffee cart is outside my office. I see you go there every morning.” He waves his hand in front of him, as if it’s nothing.

“But how do you know my drink? That cart isn’t close enough to your window that you could hear my order if your window was open.”

He’s nervous as hell. His free hand is shoved deep into his pocket and he’s shifting on his feet. “I asked the barista. It’s not a big deal.”

Words are impossible. I’m stunned silent as I take all of this in, while trying to remember to breathe. He hands me the iced coffee, made exactly the way I like it, mumbles something I don’t catch, before spinning on his heel and leaving without another word.

What the fuck?

It’s a damn good thing I only have one class today because my concentration is shot. I can’t focus on anything else the rest of the day, except the fact that it’s Stone who’s bringing me coffees every morning.

And his reasoning… because he wants me to have a good day.

It’s a completely selfless act. He didn’t even make it known that it was him. My brain isn’t letting me process this, and I’m freaking out.

My mind is still spinning and obsessing by the time I get home. It’s been fuckinghourssince he walked out of the aquatic center, and I’m no less relaxed about it. It doesn’t help that it started storming about an hour ago.

Storms always remind me of Stone. They always remind me of the one time years ago where we were stuck in his classroom when the power went out. The way we drank whiskey and played twenty questions. It was the first time we gave into our desires after our first kiss in Portland. I still remember how his hands felt roaming my body that night. It’s as if it were yesterday. It’s pouring down rain, and thunder is, I’m sure, on its way.

I make it inside before I get completely drenched, and I rip my coat off and toe off my shoes once I have the door shut. I stayed on campus for several hours after my last class, grading assignments and taking care of everything, so I’m able to relax the whole weekend. It’s just after four in the afternoon now, and I pull out my phone, find Kylie’s contact, and press the FaceTime button.

If anyone will be able to help me sort this shit out, it’s her. It’s only two in California, and I’m hoping she’s already done with classes for the day. Thankfully, after a few rings, she answers. When her face comes into view, it looks like she’s in her car.

“Hi, best friend!”

“Hey, Ky. Are you busy?”

“No way, dude. I’m about to walk into my apartment now.” As she says that, she climbs out of her car, giving me a view of her face that would be unflattering if it were anyone but her, but I swear, that girl looks gorgeous from every angle.

“Remember how I told you someone had been leaving coffee by my shit every morning this week while I was swimming?”

“Yes!” She props her phone up on her kitchen counter while she sets her stuff down. “Did you figure out who your secret admirer was? Was it that Stella girl?”

“No, Kylie. It wasn’t Stella.”

She must hear the inner turmoil in my voice because her gaze snaps toward the phone, concern immediately swimming in her eyes. “Who, then?”

Call it best friend telepathy or vibes or whatever, but Iknowshe knows who I’m about to say before I even say it.

“It was Stone.” Even saying it has my throat clogging with the thick emotion I’ve been trying to tamp down all day.

Her eyes practically bulge out of her head as her mouth drops open, utterly and completely speechless. “What?!”

“The way you look is how I’ve felt this entire day.” I grab the vodka out of the freezer, not even bothering with a shot glass as I untwist the cap, taking a swig. The burn down my throat morphs into a warmth in my gut.

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