Converting the Bad Boy ✔

Chapter 39

Though it was cold, the majority of us boys were starting to perspire, and as I mopped my forehead with the sleeve of my jumper, I smelled something.

"Is that...food?" I sniffed again, my stomach groaning as I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Yet fasting every day for the past month had made me less susceptible to hunger, I had been running about for the past...I didn't even know how long.

"Lunch time!" Amir pumped his fist in the air and we all rushed into the house, following the delicious smell. I had tasted Lebanese food before at the mosque that night I first went to meet Hassan, who I've become pretty good mates with, and yet there was still so many dishes I hadn't tasted.

"Sit, sit," an auntie practically pushed me into a chair, and a plate was handed to me, which I was required to fill.

More and more people joined the table, and I noticed Mariam among the girls who came in. A lot of the girls in her family didn't wear the hijab like she and her sister did, and I wondered why. I thought all the girls had to wear it, but I guessed not.

As soon as Mariam saw me, she smiled, and I smiled back, until the moment was ruined by the same auntie that forced me to sit, now forcing me to taste one of her dishes.

"Here, eat this," she shoved a pastry into my mouth, and I heard a few people laugh at me. I chewed the pastry, widening my eyes when the taste exploded in my mouth, and involuntarily groaned.

"It's good, isn't it?" the auntie grinned at me, before offering to shovel some lasagne onto my plate. She was sitting next to me, and she kept babying me even though I was no baby. But in terms of this whole new culture, I was an infant.

"Oh, man, once Auntie Ola has you in her clutches, it's hard to escape," Nasr sniggered beside me, and I elbowed him accidentally to shut up.

I glanced across at Mariam, who was all the way on the other side of the table surrounded by all her girl cousins, talking and laughing with them. Among them was the "crazy" girl from before, and she caught me staring at her, so I quickly averted my eyes. However, I couldn't help peeking up again to Mariam, hoping she'd look this way, but she was too busy enjoying her meal, so I decided to do the same.

"So we hear you are a convert," an auntie said to me, and I nodded at her.

"How long have you been Muslim?" another auntie questioned, and so I told her how long. Had it already been more than a month and a half?

The rest of the lunch involved family members interrogating me, from what my father did as a job to what university I wanted to attend and then what my cultural background was, which I replied as just 'Aussie' cause that was what I identified as.

"No one is just Aussie, you must come from somewhere," an uncle I had played soccer with said.

"Well, my mum's mainly English, with some Irish and French thrown in," I explained. "And my Dad's got some German and Welsh as well as English."

"Geez, that's so white," Amir said, earning a hard look from one of the aunties.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm not from some cool exotic place."

"Do you speak French if your mum is French?" One of the Mariam's cousins, who was a twin, asked.

"I wish," I snorted. "My French goes as far as 'Les Trois Petits Cochons.'"

The twins and a few other cousins laughed. "Hey, that's more than I know, so well done, buddy," Nasr said humorously.

There was a pleasant atmosphere as we had our lunch, and the aunties kept getting me to eat more, even when I assured them I was really full, but that didn't seem to stop them from scooping more food onto my plate. I swear if I ate any more my stomach would burst, and yet each time I found myself politely giving in and eating a bit, sneakily trying to give some to Nasr, who was shovelling the food down like there was no tomorrow.