LOOK AT ME (Muslim Story)

He looked at me (30)

Ahmed wouldn't stop looking at me in the car.

"What?" I asked, laughing a bit, "Why do you keep staring at me?"

It's going to take a while to get used to this shit, Ahmed staring at me. There was a point where he wouldn't dare look at me but now? Now he just can't resist me and I'm feeling super heavy. He's making my self esteem higher than it was before.

"I can't help it." He looked back at the road, biting his lips "I'm excited."

I wondered where he was taking us. It wasn't the first time he threw me in his car to guess our destination. We weren't on the highway so I'm guessing we weren't far. Ahmed turned into the parking lot of this huge building with a good that was shaped like a tea pot and a small thin metal curved up into a moon.

Well it's pretty as fuck.

"What is this place?" I asked curiously. Ahmed only smiled back at me, his eyes staring at our destination.

When I looked out the window, there were plenty of people wearing head scarves holding the hands of their kids and walking through the front doors of the building.

Their were some men in these long white dresses. Men in dresses? Odd.

But I knew where we were, "Is this a Muslim church?" I asked enthusiastically, "You know, where muslims father every Sundays— I mean Fridays?"

He chuckled at my childish acting, "Yeah. Except it's called a mosque."

I wondered why Ahmed brought me to this mosque. Does he want me to be interested? I remember a while ago, Ahmed didn't want me to follow Islam because he was scared of what I would find. But now he's encouraging it.

When we stepped out the car, I looked at the people around us, "I could never fit in." I pointed to my messy black hair that hung over my shoulders and stuck outside of my hoodie, "My hair is sticking out. I need a head scarf."

Ahmed saw the insecurity in my face and only smiled wider, "You don't need that. Yes you'll look different, but it'll show people you're interested. That's all."

"Show people I'm interested?"

He nodded, "They'll he happy when they see you, trust me."

When we reached the front doors of the place, he made some reasonable space between us. Ahmed parted our hands, making sure we don't touch when we entered from his entrance. I knew that he was going to be religious now, that he was going to pretend like we weren't friends.

He brought us up the stairs and into a hall that was large, had beige carpets and chandeliers hanging around the place. The place smelled like guys, like dudes and faint cologne.

"Where are we?" I whispered to Ahmed.

Without looking at me, he whispered back "Prayer hall. Looking for the Imaam."

"Imaam?"

"The leader."

I realized that everyone here were men and I was the only girl in the area. When I looked around for people with headscarves, I found none.

Many people were looking at me especially kids. These little boys would point at me, at my hair and whisper something to their dads.

What? You got something to say kid?

I realized r was probably because I wasn't wearing a headscarf and I should probably leave the kid alone. Maybe they aren't used to people without hijabs walking in here. Who really knows?