Page 91 of Kismet

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Hi, Molly.” He offers her a smile, his one dimple popping through.

“Hi, Cash. You aren’t interrupting anything,” Molly replies, turning in her seat to face him. “We’re just eating lunch. Want some? We have plenty.”

My eyes flit to him, pulse kicking up while I wait for him to respond.

“Oh, no. I can’t, but thank you.” He turns his attention to me. “I was coming by to see if Ben’s mom had called you yet?”

Ben is a kid in Cash’s class who isn’t doing well in any of his classes this semester. His mom emailed Cash last night, ripping him a new one for a failing grade he—justifiably—gave to Ben. He forwarded me the email this morning, and I was supposed to set up a meeting with Ben and his mom to come speak with Cash and me.

“Not yet. I emailed her this morning, and she told me she’d call to set up the meeting once she’s off work. I’m glad you stopped by, though… is there a time that works better for you to hold the meeting?”

His hands are shoved into his pants pockets. “Uh, a Friday would be nice, since I only have one class that day, but if that doesn’t work for her, then Wednesdays, my last class gets out at one. Otherwise, I’m in classes until three Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.”

My lips curl into a smile before I take a drink of my water. “Okay, perfect. I’ll let you know once I do hear from her, and we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds good,” he replies, nodding his head. “Have a good rest of your lunch. It was nice to see you, Molly.”

“You too, Cash!”

When he shuts the door behind him, she spins in her chair, smiling like an idiot at me.

“What, Molly?” I run my hand over my face, sighing, knowing what’s coming.

“Nothing,” she exclaims, holding her hands in the air. “Nothing at all. There’s just… tension. Palpable tension between the two of you.”

I can’t stifle the groan even if I wanted to. She’s a damn bloodhound when it comes to anything Cash related. “No, there isn’t. That was a very normal andprofessionalconversation between a professor and the dean.”

“Sure, it was. There’s still tension. Have you guys spoken? Like about anything non-student related?”

“No. Not in months. The last time we spoke outside of school was when we were at that fundraiser a few months ago.” I don’t dare tell her about my New Year’s Resolution, or the coffee I brought him unknowingly this morning. She’d latch on and never let it go.

Her features fall as she picks up her fork again. “That’s too bad. I really like him.”

That makes two of us, Mol.

We finish the rest of our lunch before she goes, taking the leftovers with her. We finalize her plans to come over tonight, and when she leaves, I dive back into work for the rest of the afternoon. My thoughts are only partially obstructed by Cash.

Okay, maybe more than partially.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Cash DeMarco

I feel like I’m being punked.

It’s been four days since I’ve started receiving mysterious iced coffees in the mornings after my swim. It started Monday, and it’s happened every single day since. I finish my morning laps, and when I get out of the pool, an iced coffee is waiting for me next to my things. It would be creepy if it wasn’t so delicious.

Alright, it’s still pretty creepy. Especially because I have no clue who’s doing it. My suspicions lead me to believe it may be Stella, which I hope I’m wrong. Regardless, I’m determined to figure it out today.

I got to the pool earlier this morning, so I’m finishing my swim fifteen minutes early. Part of me thought I should hide and wait it out, spy on whoever comes in, but then I remembered I’m not Inspector fucking Gadget, and this isn’t a movie. So instead, I’m waiting on the bleachers to see if anyone comes.

My heart is beating in my chest and I can’t sit still. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous, but if my body could chill the fuck out, that’d be great.

I’m scrolling through TikTok, when my attention is brought to the glass double doors. My stomach flies to my throat and the wind is knocked out of me when I watch who walks through them. Dark hair styled without a strand out of place, a perfectly tailored navy suit covering broad shoulders and thick thighs, and deep, hazelnut eyes that widen when they land on me.

“You,” is all I manage to spit out as I stand from the metal bleachers. Out of every single person I thought could be my secret coffee bringer, Stone wasnotone of them. I’m not sure why, because it seems so fucking obvious now.

“Why aren’t you swimming?” He’s standing about five feet in front of me, and his shoulders are squared, his eyes looking a bit uneasy.

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