Page 71 of Kismet

As I park, I realize I don’t even know what Cash drives anymore, so I don’t know if he’s here yet. With my helmet in hand, I walk in, taking a look around but not seeing him. I take a seat and pull out my phone, doing my pathetic nightly check up on his Instagram.“Hey,” a timid voice in front of me says, pulling my attention from my phone up to a pair of beautiful, obsidian eyes.

“Hey. You came.” I lock my phone, shoving it into my pocket, thankful that he didn’t just catch me creeping on him.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?” He takes a seat across from me, hands clasped together on the table. I could stare at him for hours, days on end, and not get tired of him.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad you did. How was your day?”

He watches me for a moment with an expression dancing on his features that I can’t quite dissect before he responds. “It was long. Mondays are my longest days. What ’bout you?”

Just then, a woman in a short skirt and a t-shirt with the bar’s logo on it strolls up to our table with a smile on her face. “Hey, y’all. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a Jack and Coke,” I say, peering over at Cash.

“Uh, same, please. Thank you.” When he smiles, it’s bright against his tan skin and his eyes gleam.

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back with those. Any appetizers?”

“Want to do the loaded nachos?” I ask Cash.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

She leaves us to go get our drinks as his gaze falls back on me. “So, how was your day, Dean Philips?” There’s a slight smirk crossing his face, and it reminds me of how he used to call me “teach” when he used to flirt with me.

“Not bad. Filled with meetings.”

“Do you have a lot of those?”

“Yeah, I do. At least one a day, sometimes more. Mondays are my busy meeting days, though. I have four different ones, back-to-back.”

The server comes with our drinks, letting us know the nachos should be out shortly. We both take a long sip of our Jack and Cokes before he continues with the questions.

“Have you had this job the entire time you’ve been here? Assuming this is where you went when you left Washington.”

“Yeah, I came here when I left Washington. Uh, I didn’t get the dean position until about six months after I arrived, though.”

He wants to ask more, dig deeper into why I left, I can feel it. His questions are radiating off of him in waves, and I don’t know why he’s holding back. I’m thankful he is, because in the middle of a bar isn’t where I want to have this conversation with him for the first time. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m going to have to tell him at some point, but here isn’t where I want to do it.

I’m still curious as to why he’s tiptoeing around it. It’s so unlike him. Cash has always come out and asked whatever it is he’s curious about. Never been scared to call me on my shit.

“Do you like it? More than being a professor?”

“I miss teaching sometimes, but I do really enjoy what I do now too.”

“Did you teach when you first arrived? Before getting the job you have now?”

“No. Uh, I took some time off when I first got here. Had some stuff I needed to deal with. When I accepted the dean role, it was my first job in Texas.”

We hold each other’s stare for several long moments. Neither of us saying anything. There’s so much he wants to ask. So much I want to say. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to see Cash DeMarco again. I thought for sure he was meant to remain in my past. I don’t know how to properly deal with having him back in my life.

My feelings for him were so strong, and I knew exactly what I wanted… until everything fucking changed, and my world shattered in the blink of an eye. The guilt, the self-loathing, all of it. I did what I thought was the right thing at the time. In hindsight, who fucking knows if it was right.

I bring my glass up to my lips, pouring a generous amount into my mouth. The burn going down helps ground me. Helps bring me back to the present. “You like being back in Texas?” I ask, sounding far more confident than I feel.

“I do. It’s nice being in the same state as my folks again, even though I haven’t been able to visit them yet. Knowing I can is comforting.”

“Alright, y’all.” Our server walks toward our table with a huge plate of loaded nachos in her hand. “Here’s the food. Looks so dang good! Can I get y’all refills?”

I say, “Sure,” at the same time Cash says, “Yes, please.” We both look at each other and laugh.

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