Page 72 of Kismet

“Coming right up.”

The nachos taste as good as they smell… good God, they’re fucking delicious. A silence blankets us while we eat, but it isn’t tense or awkward, it’s comfortable. When I grab another chip, his gaze locks on my hand… my left hand that is missing a very specific piece of jewelry. Yet he still doesn’t say anything. He just clears his throat, his eyes finding mine, before eating another chip.

We make small talk after a while, laughing and joking, as our server brings us another round. By the time we’re done with the plate of nachos, I’m feeling loose and completely relaxed. I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much.

It’s almost eight by the time we finish and pay. I don’t want the night to be over already… I would give anything to prolong it, but even getting him to do this was huge. I can’t push it.

“Wanna smoke before we head out?” he asks me. He stands, stretching his hands over his head, andfuck me. His shirt rides up and my gaze falls to his tan skin and the dark happy trail leading into his jeans. He clears his throat, and my eyes snap up to meet his.

Yeah… he fucking saw that.Shit.

“Uh, sure..” Getting to my feet, I grab my helmet, then we make our way to the front door. It’s dark out by now, but the air is still warm. Feeling around my front and back pockets, I realize I don’t have my pack of smokes on me. I must’ve left them at the office.

“Shit, can I bum one off you? I think I left mine in my office.”

His lips curl on one side as a cigarette rests between his teeth. “Dean Philips,” he replies before lighting his cigarette and taking a drag. “You mean to tell me you take cigarettes on a university campus… where there’s a strict no drugs or tobacco policy?”

I shrug my shoulders with a growing smirk as he hands me a cigarette. “Guilty. Can I get a light too?”

He steps up, flicking his green lighter as I inhale, letting the smoke fill my lungs. It’s harsh… much harsher than my menthols, but it eases my muscles and mind all the same. His gaze holds mine as he places his between his lips again. The cherry glows in the darkness.

The air around us feels energized. I can’t explain it. The way his gaze holds mine can be felt all over my body. It wraps around my limbs, dances in my gut, and sets fire to my blood. Suddenly, it’s five years ago, outside that pub in Portland. The urge to pin him against a brick wall and devour his mouth is strong, almost too strong.

Would his lips feel as soft, yet firm, as before?

Would he taste the same?

Would his body pressed against mine feel just as good?

I’m dying to fucking know, and it almost physicallypainsme to refrain. I told him we could be friends, and I have to honor that. No matter how much it kills me.

We’re wrapped up in our bubble of sexual tension and smoke for a few minutes, before he drops his cigarette on the ground, putting it out with his boot. That seems to break the spell.

“Well, I should get going. Got some grading to do tonight. But, uh, this was fun. Thanks for asking me out—uh, asking me to come out. Fuck, you know what I mean.” He laughs nervously, averting his eyes.

“I had fun too. Thanks for coming.”Really, Stone?!I couldn’t have used a different phrase. Jesus. “Have a great night, Cash. I’ll see you later.”

God, I’m so fucked.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Cash DeMarco

Walking through my front door tonight, I’m more confused than ever. What the hell was that?! The entire evening was bizarre… but then outside, smoking. What theactualfuck?

I throw my keys in the dish on the kitchen counter, sliding out of my shoes, and emptying out my pockets. All while replaying every single word exchanged with him tonight.Every smile. Every smoldering fucking gaze from him.

When he came to my classroom this morning and asked if I wanted to grab drinks after work, I swore we’d entered the twilight zone. I spent the rest of my day on autopilot—gave five lectures, but couldn’t even tell you what I spoke about if I tried. And then when I walked into that bar and saw him sitting there, helmet beside him on the table, hair tousled, attention focused on his phone—which IswearI spotted him scrolling through my profile—it was like it was senior year all over again.

I can’t fucking stand the way he makes me feel. To this day, all these years later, he still affects me. Still makes me trip up… and it shouldn’t fucking be like that. Heleft.He left town—left me—after he told me what he wanted. Without so much as a goodbye.

I’m such a fucking coward, I can’t even bring myself to ask him about it. Ask why he fucking vanished, went ghost on me. Ask why he couldn’t call or even fucking text. And he’s not wearing a wedding ring. There isn’t even a ring tan line there, like maybe he forgot to put it on this morning.

So, are they together? Did they still split up? And if they did, why the fuck did he skip town, then? Was it me? Did he leave because of me?Fucking hell!I have so many goddamn questions, and I’m too fucking scared to ask them.

And scared of what? What exactly is it that I’m so terrified of? The truth? The truth has to feel better than whatever limbo this is that I’m living in.

My phone goes off, startling me, and when I flip it over, Kylie’s name flashes. I press accept and her face appears on the screen, wide smile and soft eyes aimed at me.

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