Other Side

08 | It's a Yes or No Question

She squared her shoulders, fighting an eye roll. "I don't think I need to be fluent in anything to know you're pressed over me finding an old college assignment." She snatched the first page from his hand and flipped it over. "What is this, an English 101 book analysis? We have those in the US too, if you were wondering."

"English 102," he corrected, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. He yanked the paper back and tossed the pile behind him, the sheer lack of air resistance sending them flying to different corners of the room. "I retract my statement. Maybe just a shitty field agent."

Rolling her eyes, she slid to the right, trying to evade his overwhelming presence, but another free hand meant another to lock her in. God, as much as she hated every cocky word that left his mouth, no guy had ever fired up every one of her nerves just by being this close. When his hot breath tickled her neck, she swore her knees almost gave way.

"Let's play a game today, Talia," he murmured, two fingers grasping a single lock of her hair. It glided through his fingertips, then landed on her shoulder again, seeming to tempt him to do it again. But he held himself back—over ego or custom, she didn't know.

She smirked, tilting her chest out the slightest bit. It grazed his own, but he didn't give in again, despite initiating their paradoxical proximity. "Which game? A new one, or the one we've been playing since I made it to this side of the country?"

He licked his lips and backed off, one hand and then the next. "I didn't win this one, so it's not over yet. But I propose changing the rules just for tonight."

He shrugged off his gray athletic jacket, entrancing her in the most mundane of actions. Maybe because his stupid charm made Talia envisage him doing the same thing in a different scenario, one that didn't seem wrong because they barely knew each other, barely liked each other—and barely had any time left together.

"I imagine you have countless questions you want me to answer, and I the same. So, until today ends, we can only ask each other yes and no questions. No limits."

"And what if one of us lies?" she challenged.

"Well, that's between you and your morals, isn't it?"

"Valid," she mumbled, now knowing he had some sort of good character. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants and walked to the center of his room. "What if you forget the rules and lose?"

There it was again: that self-satisfied smile. "Oh, I never lose, Talia. Everyone else simply gets lucky." He walked to the door and gripped the handle, turning around one last time. "Before all this ends, maybe you will, too."

***

Abiding by his maddening nature, Zaid wouldn't let her enjoy this game.

He started by not letting her escape it.

They sat at a table for two at an upscale Lebanese restaurant just outside of Boston. They'd both agreed before coming here that few places could beat Teta Salma's home cooking, but Talia knew their conversation wouldn't be fit for home—and certainly not the ears of her prying grandparents.

The dim light shaded some of his face but kept his light smile in view as he perused the menu. Neither of them had to read all five pages to know what they wanted. As different as their upbringing had been, food still had some way of making up for the rest of a culture that they couldn't replicate thousands of miles away.

"Have you decided yet?" she asked, starting off on the right track.

"Yes," he said and folded his hands over the menu. "Have you?"