“It’s called living your life, honey. How many ways can we say it before you understand it?”
I sighed and got up.
I didn’t know how to feel about all that. About what they were saying. I didn’t know how to feel about Samir and how his presence made my heart leap.
I didn’t know what to think of anything going on in my life at the moment.
Or, to be more accurate, I did. It felt like everything was moving too fast, like I’d gone from dead to alive in a matter of days, and I started enjoying myself after such a long time of burying my emotions into work.
It felt like I was moving on and becoming a different person. A person that hadn’t been through hell in the past three years. And I didn’t know if I liked that.
And yet the thought of seeing Samir again, or spending time with him, with or without Ella, made my heart race and my breath catch.
What the hell is wrong with me?
18.Samir
Iwas still daydreaming about Cole on Friday—two days after our unusual date—and even more so about the kiss.
Of course he’d only kissed me on the cheek, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t left a lasting impression on my mind and my flesh. If I closed my eyes hard enough and focused on that memory, I could feel him kiss me all over again.
I’m so pathetic.
Who else would fawn over a chaste kiss as if it were a forever promise?
And yet I didn’t care. I mean, I did care, because it was things like that—obsessing over small things—that could get me into even more trouble, but I was pretty sure if I was daydreaming about Cole, then I was already too far gone to care about falling for him. It’d be a wonder if I got through all twelve dates unscathed.
Even during prayer, it was hard to put him in the back of my mind and focus, but I tried not to linger on that. After all, notevery prayer was the same, and it wouldn’t be the first time I was distracted.
Yet the more I prayed, the more at peace with myself and my feelings I felt. Which wasn’t all that unusual, but it did reinforce my determination to attend the Mosque more regularly. There was something about praying with everyone else, guided by the imam’s melodic voice and feeling the energy in the room build up to a serene heat that encompassed us all in His embrace. It was no wonder that by the time we were done, I felt better than I’d felt in days.
I hadn’t forgotten about the kiss, or my complicated feelings about it, but I knew I’d figure it all out in time.
I started to make my way toward the front room when a couple of uncles caught up with me and stepped right in my path.
“Samir,” said one of them, Mr. Haroun.
“Uncle,” I replied.
“How are you doing, son? All good?” asked the other uncle. Mr. Abdul.
I nodded.
“Sure. Why?”
Mr. Haroun shrugged.
“It’s nothing. We’re just a little concerned.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Concerned, why? What happened?”
“Some people saw you the other day,” Mr. Abdul said. “Kissing a man.”
I grimaced.
“Okay. And?” I asked.
