BooksBarbecue
Back Kismet
Chapters (50)
  1. Prologue
  2. Chapter One
  3. Chapter Two
  4. Chapter Three
  5. Chapter Four
  6. Chapter Five
  7. Chapter Six
  8. Chapter Seven
  9. Chapter Eight
  10. Chapter Nine
  11. Chapter Ten
  12. Chapter Eleven
  13. Chapter Twelve
  14. Chapter Thirteen
  15. Chapter Fourteen
  16. Chapter Fifteen
  17. Part Two
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Chapter Twenty-One
  24. Chapter Twenty-Two
  25. Chapter Twenty-Three
  26. Chapter Twenty-Four
  27. Chapter Twenty-Five
  28. Chapter Twenty-Six
  29. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  30. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  31. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  32. Chapter Thirty
  33. Chapter Thirty-One
  34. Chapter Thirty-Two
  35. Chapter Thirty-Three
  36. Chapter Thirty-Four
  37. Chapter Thirty-Five
  38. Chapter Thirty-Six
  39. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  40. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  41. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  42. Chapter Forty
  43. Chapter Forty-One
  44. Chapter Forty-Two
  45. Part Three
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Epilogue

He looks obnoxiously fucking hot today. His maroon suit hugs his every muscle and curve like he was fucking born to wear it. The Oxfords on his feet are shiny and black, and his hair is styled perfectly—not a goddamn strand out of place.

The moment he notices me, I can feel it. My body goes hot, then cold, and I’m hyper aware of his attention before I even turn my gaze toward him. Our eyes meet from across the room and time stands still. It’s fucking ridiculous. He holds my gaze a few more moments before returning his attention to Rachel, who is now busy announcing him winning the Winsor Award, which is apparently an annual award given to the schools with the highest success rates the previous year.

It sounds like an impressive award to win, but I’m too fucking pissed to care. He says a thank you speech, but I tune it all out. I’m too busy seething, while simultaneously trying to not let Stella know I’m fucking pissed, because the last thing I need is to explain to her why our dean’s presence infuriates me to no end.

As soon as his speech is done and he leaves the stage, I lean down to Stella’s ear. “Hey, I’m not feeling well. I’m gonna head back up to my room.”

“Again? Are you okay? This seems to happen a lot.”

Of course, she would call me on my bullshit. “Uh, yeah. IBS.” I shrug and turn away from her as her eyes widen. I make a beeline for the front doors, ordering an Uber immediately, wanting to get the fuck out of here.

I need to be fucking alone.

******

After getting back to my hotel, I quickly decide being there was the last place I want to be—well, second to being at the convention center—so I grab my laptop case and promptly order another Uber, going to a diner downtown.

Finding an open spot at the counter, I order myself an iced coffee and some fries before pulling out my laptop and powering it up. My AirPods are in the pocket of my laptop case, so I pull those out too, popping one into my ear, and turning on my Spotify playlist I created for this book. I seem to do my best writing when I’m either overwhelmed or upset, or both, and right now is no exception.