I’m thankful the ladies’ room is empty. The fact that it’s a Friday afternoon is a bonus. I perform ablution, wiping over and under my shoes instead of the usual washing of my bare feet. I won’t be sticking my feet into any sink outside my home.
The hallways are strange without the crowd of students filling them. It’s like seeing a ladybug without its spots. I head back to the chemistry lab, glad to find no one is inside. I take out my phone and open the prayer app. The Qibla, which we pray toward, is in the front corner of the room, which means my back will face the door. It makes me uneasy, vulnerable to be exposed like this, but I need to pray.
When I’m done, I turn around and gasp.
I’m not alone.
It’s the same guy from yesterday.
Adrian.
The one who touched me.
I finally take a good look at him, his blurred shape sharpening.
Slicked-back hair. Strong build. Wide shoulders. He’s handsome. Would have definitely made me look twice if we passed each other on the streets.
He’s leaning against the door, watching me with a smirk.
“Hey,” he says.
I scramble to my feet, grabbing my bag and hugging it to my chest.
“What were you doing?” he asks. It’s then I notice the phone in his hand.
And I know. I know he took a picture. Maybe a video. I know he’s been standing there for a while.
“Praying,” I say in the steadiest voice I can muster. It nearly doesn’t exist in the horrible silence of this room.
My stomach tugs and lets go like the tide of the ocean, and every molecule in me is screaming to get out. I try not to make any sudden movements, walking casually to the door.
If I can just get out of this room, it’ll be okay.
“Right.” His eyebrows are raised. “I wanted to check on you because I think I spooked you yesterday.”
I nod. My vision is starting to grow cloudy. No blood. There’s no blood.
He’s right in front of me, blocking the door, and there’s no way for me to get out without pushing him. Something I don’t think would work with our size difference. Something I don’t want to try.
“I don’t see what Nicole was saying about you,” he continues, and I’m scared he’s going to touch me again. “You’re actually really pretty. If you’re into brown girls.”
“Thanks,” I whisper weakly. I just want to leave. “Did… did you take my picture?”
He grins, all pearly white teeth. “Maybe.”
My stomach hurts. I’ve started sweating all over. “Why?”
“I didn’t say yes.”
Okay, this is going nowhere. “Could you please move? I’m late meeting someone.”
He doesn’t budge.
The realization that I’m trapped is suffocating. I don’t let my mind wander to what might happen here. What happened before.
“Leave,” he says simply, nodding his head to the side. “There’s plenty of room.”
I don’t move. If I squeeze past him, we’ll be close, and it’ll be an excuse for him to touch me again.
