A Diamond in Islam | (Published) ✔

{15} The Sass Is Real

Amira Sarker

I walked into history class and was met with Damon. He was sitting in his seat, tapping his pencil on the desk. He looked bored as hell. I looked around the room and saw that it was only us, a predicament I did not want. Trying to be as discreet as possible, I put my stuff on my desk quietly before walking out to get some water before class started.

As I leaned down to take a sip of the water, I heard a voice right next to my ear.

"Hey there, sweetheart."

I jumped backwards and crashed into a hard chest. Immediately, his arms wrapped around my waist, steadying me. I turned around and saw Damon, his eyes gleaming down at me, making my heart beat faster. How was it that his eyes seemed to get brighter everyday? The touch of his hands on my waist snapped me from my thoughts. Allah would not be pleased with me.

I glared at him, but was still tense. He just shrugged and let go.

"You know if you were less of a jerk, you wouldn't have to deal with such hate from me," I said while crossing my arms.

He rolled his eyes. "I totally feel the love."

"You should, if I had any for you," I retorted.

"Oh please. I have plenty of love from plenty of people including you," he huffed.

I shook my head with a smile. "You're too arrogant for your own good."

"Yeah, but hey it's part of my charming figure," he smirked.

"That's what you think," I coughed quietly.

He gave a throaty chuckle. That one sound was so hot. Curse my female hormones. I really needed to get a grip on my emotions, pulling onto the reigns of my self control. I could not fall in love. His presence allured me in ways that scared me, tempting me closer to a point of no return.

I remembered last night, how Damon's life had taken an unexpected turn, and I felt shame for not asking him sooner.

I bit my lip, wondering if it was a good idea to bring this up. "Damon, how did everything go last night?" I asked.

Immediately, his features darkened, his smile dropping. "I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled.

His lips told me no, but his eyes were a different story. Those forest green eyes were as bright as an evergreen field, yet they pleaded for help, crystalling with fresh tears. He refused to let them drop, and then he broke our gaze, knowing that I could read him like a book.

I knew what my next words would be were wrong, I felt it, yet I felt despair at seeing his struggles. His life was in shambles, his heart broken repeatedly from those he loved. I wanted to help. I wanted to save him from destruction.

"If you ever need to talk," I started as regret pooled in my stomach, "I-I'm here for you."

As I prepared to walk away, leaving him in his silence to collect his thoughts, his meek voice called out for me, barely above a whisper, but the hoarseness informed me of his inner turmoil.

"Amira, wait," he said. "I need to talk to someone right now."

I slowly turned to face him. "About last night?"

He shook his head. "About all the other nights where the same thing has happened. I just... really need a friend."

I nodded, and followed him back to the classroom. Oh Allah, I thought, what have I done? Why did I allow myself to fall victim to this?