My Type of Socializing | ✓

Chapter 5

Assad's cooking was good. So good that Adam's plan of eating over once was discarded after the fifth time he found himself sitting on the sofa of the taller man's apartment at least four times a week from that point onwards.

It was the middle of a Saturday afternoon, and Adam was at Assad's place again, waiting for the man to finish putting a dish together.

Adam had come to associate Assad's apartment with the smell of spices and the low hum of music. Assad often cooked and spoke to him from the kitchenette that shared a space with the living room that had a sofa and a few armchairs, as well as a bookcase, record stand, and a game setup sitting next to a standing television. Compared to Assad's apartment, Adam's crib was a desert.

"Hey, do you mind garlic in rice?" Assad asked, making Adam look up from the sketchpad in his hands. The first time he had come over, sitting around and just looking at Assad had made him uncomfortable, so now he brought over things to keep him busy.

Adam shrugged. "I don't think I really know what ingredient is supposed to taste like what, as long as it tastes alright," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Assad nodded, turning before opening the fridge. "What about what you'd like to drink?"

"Anything, I don't mind," Adam said, even sparing Assad a smile. He didn't have a deadline until later next month, so Adam was a bit more cheerful than usual.

The apartment became quiet again, and Adam went on to revise his sketches as Assad continued to move about the kitchenette. Sometimes his eyes will drift over to the pictures hanging on the wall. There were a few of Assad with his friends, and somewhere he was with equally dark-skinned people—some of the women were wearing hijabs.

"Is your family Muslim?" The words left Adam's mouth before he could stop himself. He turned, calming down when he noticed that Assad didn't seem phased in the slightest.

"Yeah, they are," Assad muttered, taking the pot off the stove before heading to run his hands under the running water. "Sufi Muslims," he clarified.

"Oh," Adam let out before looking back at the picture. He didn't know what a "Sufi Muslim" was but he told himself that he had already asked too many questions today.

"Here we go..." Adam looked over to the kitchenette at Assad's words to find the younger man setting down two plates of food on the small kitchen island. He took a seat, before looking over at Adam and tapping the one beside him. "Come on."

Adam dropped his sketchpad before wandering over to the island and joining Assad. At first, they both ate in silence, poking at bits of lamb and vegetables laying next to the pile of rice and sauce on their plates, but soon Assad began to hum and sigh, and Adam got annoyed enough to give the grinning late teen a lot.

"Oh, you're actually looking at me, I thought you were only here for the food," he teased, making Adam blink before looking away. His face grew warm, and his mouth felt numb. He didn't know what to say in response to that, so he just stuffed his mouth with rice.

"Ah, now you've looked away," Assad whined, reaching out to touch Adam's hand a bit before letting it go almost as fast. He must have sensed Adam's tenseness. "You're always so quiet. I thought it was because we didn't know each other, but it's been... what? Five months now?" the younger man said, counting his fingers.

Adam looked away. "We still don't know each other," he said in a matter of fact tone, and the younger man sighed, nodding his head.

"That's true."

They ate together, and that was about it. Assad had never been to Adam's place, and Adam shut down conversations before they could even start.

"Hey," Assad said, making Adam raise a brow at the now grinning man. "Let's get to know each other—play a question game," he said, making Adam frown before looking away.