Confessions of a Muslim Girl

Chapter 27 -- Can't Keep My Mouth Shut

            I look at him skeptically and then say, “Look Adam…I’m being one hundred percent serious when I say this. But why the heck were you guys looking at each like that?”

            “Like what?” He asks, frustrated.

            I throw my arms up in defeat. “Like you two like each other or something! Adam, I get that you’re being nice because that’s the kind of guy you are, but you’re seriously giving her the wrong impression.”

            “Noha, she likes Zak, remember?” He’s referring to how last year, Shazia tried everything in her power to get Zakariya’s attention.

            I shoot him a mild look. “Adam, you sir, are an idiot. She doesn’t talk to him anymore and when they do, they’re so tense. But with you, dang she likes you a lot.”

            “Weren’t you friends with her back in the day?” My and Shazia’s friendship ended promptly on the night of the worst day of my life, aside from the death of my grandpa.

            “Yeah. It didn’t work out.” Before he can say anything, I go, “No, that’s not why I don’t exactly approve of her. Adam, with absolutely no disrespect to Shazia, she’s not exactly looking for a halal relationship.”

            He sighs, looking slightly awkward from the basis of our conversation. “Noh….”

            I can’t take it anymore. Gramps, you’re so right. I can’t keep my mouth shut. “Do you like Shazia?”

            He stops and doesn’t answer immediately. “She’s nice.”

            “Yeah, but sliced bread is nice. I don’t see myself making googly eyes at it.”

            “She’s pretty too.” His tone is vague.

            “Rubina’s pretty. Farah’s pretty. Maysa is pretty. I don’t have feelings for them.”

            “Maysa is gorgeous.” He mumbles, looking anywhere but my eyes.

            “So why the hell are you acting like you like Shazia and not her?” I nearly shout the question, completely exasperated at how dumb boys can be.

            “Wha…what are you talking about?” He’s perfectly still.

            “Do you like Shazia or Maysa?”

            “They’re nice.” He’s referring to them in the friend sense.

            I talk very slowly. “No, no, no, Adam. We’re going to take this slooowly, ok? I understand that boys aren’t capable of making sense but I want you to try with me.” He glares. My words and hand gestures are exaggeratedly slow. “Do. You. Like. Maysa. As. More. Than. A. Friend.”

            He’s letting go, I can tell. With exaggerated slowness of his own, he admits, “Yes. I. Like. Maysa. But. It’s. Not. Possible.”

            “WHY?!”

            “Because she’s too good for me, and her brother, also known as my best friend for nearly a decade totally blew me off. The only thing I want to have with her is a halal relationship, but I don’t exactly see her father giving me her hand. Besides, we’re too young. Who knows if it will last?”

            I cross my arms across my chest. “I knew it. You always liked her. So if you like her, then why are you running around with Shazia, my boy?”