Page 29 of Kismet

“This song is beautiful,” I finally manage.

He peers over at me. His attention holds a level of intensity that makes me squirm under the weight of it. He can be so intimidating, but I’m fucking attracted to it, regardless. “It is,” he replies, eyes on mine. “How has your winter break been?”

We return to classes on Monday. The break flew by entirely too fast, but at the same time, I’ve been looking forward to going back because it means I get to see him again. “It was nice. I visited my parents in Dallas for Christmas. How was yours?”

“That’s great, Cash. Glad to hear that. Mine was, uh, fine.” He averts his gaze again. I get the feeling his break was, in fact,notfine, but I don’t want to intrude by asking him to go into it if he doesn’t want to. The song changes toSay It Ain’t Soby Landon Tewers, playing while we fall into a thoughtful silence. Every once in a while, we’ll glance at each other. It isn’t awkward—it probably should be, but it isn’t.

After a few more songs, he finally speaks. “We shouldn’t be here together. I know this, yet I keep putting us in this position.”

“What have—”

“Please,” he pleads. “Let me finish.”

“Okay…” My hands rest in my lap as I give him my full attention, anxious about what he’s going to say.

“We shouldn’t be here. Lines have blurred… Hell, lines have been crossed, erased, completely demolished, with you. I’m aware this is wrong, but…”

His gaze lifts to meet mine again, and there’s an emotion I can’t quite name in his eyes. But I know how it makes me feel, and it’s like nothing else. “But you make me feel different. You make me feel seen and appreciated, and that’s something I haven’t felt in many years. It’s no excuse, I know that. I just needed you to know. I haven’t stopped thinking about Portland or that night in my office since they happened.”

The raw honesty is overwhelming and moving. It’s clear as day this is hard for him. He’s battling himself, trying to deny his feelings, and apparently losing, if him being here with me is any indication. My throat is tight as I try to put words to how I’m feeling. Nothing seems good enough. I want to make him feel better, but I also desperately, selfishly, want him to give in to his feelings. I want him to indulge in me.

“I haven’t stopped thinking of those nights either,” is all I manage to get out. Despite the windows being down, the air is stifling. And the pull between us is powerful. I’m not sure who moves first, but somehow, we both meet in the middle, his forehead resting on mine.

We’re both breathing heavily, and it physically pains me to try to refrain from devouring him. When his eyes lock on mine, mere centimeters from me, it’s like he can see into my soul. He looks at me like we’ve known each other for lifetimes, like he can see my every secret, every thought. It’s as intimidating and terrifying as it is electrifying.

Dragging in a deep breath, he slams his eyes closed, pressing his lips on mine. All the oxygen leaves my lungs as I process his touch. His tongue glides across my lips, and my brain finally kicks into gear. I part my lips as he slips inside, tasting every crevice of my mouth. My body melts as he drags a hand through the hair on the back of my head, tugging and kissing me deeper.

He’s owning me. Taking me under his spell. I would do any and everything he ever wanted so long as he keeps kissing me like this. He nips at my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, and all I can think of is how fucking incredible those lips and that tongue would feel wrapped around my cock—which is achingly hard in my pants.

He pulls away from me in a hurry, almost like if he doesn’t stop himself now, he wouldn’t be able to. His eyes are wild, filled with lust, and his lips are swollen. I think he might panic; apologize profusely, like he does every time we do something we aren’t supposed to do. The constant internal struggle he seems to face must be exhausting. I want to say something, help him somehow, but I don’t know how.

It’s not the same for me. I’m not married, so I don’t feel the same level of anguish he does about this. For me, it feels right, feels good, so I roll with it. It’s completely different for him, though, and I don’t know how to relate to that or take some of that away. All I can do is give him space, let him call the shots. Which I have been doing. Except for the night of his award, I haven’t reached out to him first. I let him come to me, and for the first time, he did.

After what feels like an hour of tense silence, I finally ask him, “Are you okay?”

He glances over at me, like he zoned out and forgot I was here. “Yeah. We should probably go, though. It’s getting late.”

Getting late?It’s been late. “Alright,” is all I say. He’s deep in his thoughts and at three in the morning in some unknown field isn’t the time to try to dissect that.

We drive back to the frat house in uninterrupted silence, aside from the music playing softly. When we pull up outside, he doesn’t put the car in park, but he at least looks less frazzled by the time he glances at me. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“You’re welcome.”

He shocks me when he leans over, pressing a gentle, quick kiss on my lips. It’s over as soon as it started, but it still wasn’t what I expected. I get out of the car, waving at him before heading inside. Once I’m in the privacy of my own room, I rest my back against my closed door, bringing my fingers up to my lips.

This night was fuckingweird.

Chapter Ten

Cash DeMarco

I’m getting whiplash from Stone. He’s hot and then he’s cold. I can’t keep up. Not that I didn’t figure he’d freak out after what happened last week in his car, but Jesus. He’s been nothing but nice and professional all week, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice his lingering stares and the number of times he’s acted like he wanted to say something to me when we were alone in the classroom but didn’t.

My classes on Fridays are slim. I only have two classes, both in the morning, so I’m done by noon. It was this way one of the semesters last year too, and I really enjoy it. Makes me feel like I have a longer weekend. I’m on my way to meet my buddy, Branson, for lunch at a burger place near campus.

It’s bustling with college kids when I walk through the door. He told me he was in the back of the restaurant already with a table, so I head that way. He scored us a corner booth, and his lips turn up into a smirk when he sees me.

“What’s up, man?”

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