Page 13 of Kismet

A catastrophically terrible idea—inviting someone to a convention with me for the entire weekend, whom I think is attractive. Especially when that person is mystudentand very muchnotmy wife. To make matters worse, his fucking hotel room is right next door to mine. I didn’t even request that. It just happened, like the world is throwing a giant, cosmicfuck youright in my face.

Having him in such close quarters in my car earlier during the drive here didn’t help either. From the moment he got into my car, his scent enveloped my senses—fresh, yet spicy… manly. I had to physically refrain myself from looking at him repeatedly while I was driving. He is unbelievably attractive, even when it’s clear he’s not trying to be.

For fuck’s sake, when he got into my car, he was wearing black joggers and a navy-blue hoodie, with tennis shoes, and I had to actively hide the fucking chub I got just from being in his presence. And of course, I keep replaying that fantasy I beat off to in the shower of him a few weeks ago, where I came harder than I had in years.

I’ve been lying on my hotel bed for the last three hours, nursing a whiskey, avoiding shoving my hand down my pants and making myself come to the knowledge that he’s only a wall away. We’re going to dinner shortly, which should be interesting.

Speaking of dinner, my phone dings on the bedside table. It’s him.

Cash: Hey, are we going somewhere where I gotta dress nice?

Me: Do you want to?

Cash: Not really. LOL. But we can if you want to.

Me: There’s a pizza place/pub around the corner we can go to. It’s casual.

Cash: Sounds good to me, teach.

There’s that nickname again.A knock sounds at the door before I can reply. Rolling off the bed, I cross the room with large steps, pulling open the heavy door. Cash stands on the other side, wearing the same outfit as earlier.

“Can we go now? I’m bored,” he says, almost in a whining tone, his bottom lip poked out. What I would give to chomp on it before shoving my tongue down his throat.

“Yup. Come in and I’ll get my shoes on.” Stepping aside, I let him walk by me as I subtly inhale the air around him. My skin is on fire knowing that he’s in my hotel room. The desire to touch him is overwhelming.

Not once in my several years of teaching have I had inappropriate thoughts about a student. Even when students openly flirted with me and came onto me.Never. Now, here I am with him, someone who’s been my student for going on four years now, and suddenly I can’t even be in the same room as him without an erection threatening to pop up.

I need to get it under control.

Slipping my tennis shoes on, I slip my wallet and phone in my pocket. “Ready?”

“Hell yes. I’m starving.”

The pub really is around the corner from the hotel, so we walk there. The evening air is crisp—not too hot, not too cold—and makes for great walking weather. I love the Portland area. The nightlife and the people are incredible. I don’t come out here nearly as much as I’d like. Aida and I used to visit here on the weekends when we were first married. It brings back a lot of memories.

The restaurant is packed by the time we walk through the doors. Typical for a Friday night. We’re somehow able to get a seat in the bar area within a few minutes, the hostess setting down large, laminated menus and paper cup holders in front of each of us.

“Your server tonight will be Lindsey. She will be with you shortly. Can I get you two started with something to drink?”

Peering at Cash, I hold out my hand, indicating he can order first.

“Can I get whatever you have on tap for IPA, please?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. And for you?”

“Oh hell, I’ll have the same. Thank you.” I smile at her, bringing my attention to Cash, who’s already watching me.

He flashes me a smirk. “You don’t strike me as an IPA guy, teach.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. “Let me get this straight… not only do I not seem cool enough to listen to the music I do, but now, I also don’t seem cool enough to be a beer drinker? You think so highly of me, Cash.”

“Whoa, hey now! When did I say anything about being cool enough? Am I wrong about the beer?” He lifts a knowing brow at me, his big brown eyes teasing me.

“That’s really beside the point.”

“Ah-HA! I’m right, aren’t I? Come on, let’s hear it.” Turning his head and laughing, he cups the back of his ear.

“Alright, fine. I don’t normally drink beer. I’m more of a whiskey guy.”

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