About Kismet

8

Kismet lifted her head up to look in the direction of the voice that interrupted her before she had even had the chance to begin reading the novel she had bought.

The guy at fault was standing in the aisle, unsurely. He tried gauging her reaction, but her face was expressionless.

Kismet furrowed her eyebrows briefly, "Sorry. Pardon me?"

He smiled shortly, "Would you mind if I placed my bag by your feet?"

She nodded, "Oh yeah, of course," she agreed, motioning for him to go ahead.

Placing the duffle by her feet, she watched as he stepped back into the aisle, briefly talking to an elderly lady.

The guy helped the lady place her bag in the hand-carry compartment. It was the reason he had asked his seatmate to place his bag by her feet. The older woman wouldn't have room for her belongings otherwise.

As he settled into the seat next to Kismet, he stole a glance at her.

"I'm Nate," he introduced himself.

She had picked up her book once more, and he grimaced at the look she gave him when he interrupted her a second time.

She placed her book in her lap, nodding in acknowledgement. "Nice to meet you, Nate. I'm Kismet."

Nate's face clearly expressed his relief at her reply, thankful she had not minded his interruption as much.

His eyebrows rose in response. "That's a unique name. So I guess it was fate that we met," he noted jokingly, making reference to her name.

Although he cringed internally at the way he had gone about it.

Kismet shook her head, her lips quirking upwards only slightly. It wasn't the first time she had heard a line like that.

Nate smiled easily. "So, what're you headed to Ontario for?"

Kismet sighed internally, understanding then that she would have to endure the chatty man for the duration of the flight.

"I live there, actually," she replied.

Nate let out a noise of understanding. He waited a moment for her to question him in return, but when she didn't he continued without prompt.

"I'm staying with my brother while he recovers from an injury," he said.

Kismet's eyes softened in concern, "An injury? Is he okay?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I mean, he's recovering. It was a nasty accident and, honestly, just bad luck on his part."

Nate watched in fascination as Kismet's head tilted to the side, growing more interested in the conversation.

"What kind of accident?" she asked, before placing a hand over her mouth. She grimaced, "I don't mean to be nosy," she apologized.

Nate only smiled, waving it off. "It's alright. I suppose I didn't give you context," he cleared his throat. "Have you heard of Mathew Bradshaw?"

Kismet's eyes widened, "No," she exclaimed, not in denial however, more in disbelief.

In the days following the playoff game, Mathew Bradshaw was identified as the severely injured hockey player.

Nate winced at her reaction, not knowing exactly what to expect.

"Number 17's your brother?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded, hoping his smile wasn't as close to a grimace as he thought it was. He was used to being the lesser-known, younger brother.

Kismet digested the revelation as the plane ascended, the aircraft now reaching higher altitudes. She could visualize the similarities now; between the green eyes and the angular, dimpled jaw. They were dominant genetic traits.