That morning, while Amani stood in the balcony, she saw Bread Boy walking his little brother to the school at the end of her street. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and allowed his gaze to follow him with a focus intense enough, she knew he felt her eyes on him but still refused to look up.
"Amani!" Her Aunt called from inside.
"Yes," she ducked into the apartment, waiting for her eye to readjust to the dim light within the space as opposed to the bright morning sun that illuminated the streets outside.
Her Aunt was standing in the kitchen, frying half of the bowl of rice on the stove. Amani stayed near the living room to avoid the heat. "We're invited to Safia's house for dinner today. I know it's early but can you go down and buy me a few things?"
"What do you need?"
"Two eggplants, a cabbage, and five breads."
Amani's eyes sparkled at the free visit to the bakery. "I'll get dressed," she rushed into her bedroom. Amani pulled a brown abaya over her head and slipped into her sandals. The money was resting on the kitchen counter as she hurried out, adjusting the scarf over her hair to keep it from blowing in the wind. "Eggplants, cabbages, and bread, right?"
She nodded. "And toilet paper if the store is open."
"Yes ma'am!"
Amani raced down the stairs and hurried out the front door, directly into Bread Boy's path on his walk back. He paused. "Excuse me," he placed his hands in his pockets and walked around her.
"No, excuse me," she followed alongside him. "I'm the one that walked into your path. It's so early I didn't think anyone would be out."
He continued walking ahead in silence.
Amani held her hands behind her back, swinging her body happily as she tailed the boy. "Were you going to open the shop? My Aunt needs bread for dinner so I might as well get some fresh."
"I would still have to make the dough."
"I can wait," she smiled.
"It needs to rise."
She shrugged. "I have time."
His footsteps stopped near Farouq's house and Amani twirled around to stand in front of him. The streets were empty, maybe he'd look at her. Bread Boy's attention remained on the stairs. "I'm not working today. You have to wait."
Amani narrowed her eyes at him. "You're avoiding me."
"No."
"So, the bakery isn't opening today?"
"It will. Someone else will work it."
"What if I want bread from you?"
He pulled in a full breath and looked over her head. "Then you should wait until I work," he stepped past her.
Amani moved back. "You can't open up shop for me?"
"No."
She pouted. "Why not?"
"Because I don't work today."
"So, you would if you did work?" She smiled.
"No." It was a response devoid of any humor because he was being completely serious. There was no joke or tease in his tone and Amani scowled. "Excuse me." That time, she let him walk away.
Her pursed lips melted into a wide grin and Amani laughed. He hadn't even humored her; it was a plain "no." She sighed at his behavior and the way he emitted an energy so peaceful and respectful but, when she approached him, always behaved in such an unapproachable way. Was he playing hard to get? Usually, that was her role in a dynamic like this one.
"It's okay," she hummed. Her father wouldn't take her back any time soon so if Bread Boy wanted to play the long game, she would play the long game.
If anything, the length of this conversation between them was a definite win. Even if it seemed like he'd hated every moment of it.
She made the eggplant and cabbage purchases then, on her way to the bakery in hopes that it was open, Amani found a familiar face standing in front of it.
"Look, it's the foreigner," Fayza greeted her, using a wooden spoon to lift the bread off the hot stove and flip it. Bread Boy did it with his bare hands, not that Amani was comparing. "How can I help you today, Amani?"
"Four of these please."
Fayza's eyebrows. "Someone has a big dinner today."
"With the family of the boy I rejected."
"Subhanallah, the worst of luck goes to you then. I'll give you a fresh batch to make you feel better. Here, try," she extended a torn piece of bread to her. "They are the best coming straight off the heat."
Amani took a bite. "Plain bread?"
"Are you not an Arab?" Fayza laughed. "There are two things we cannot live without. Olive oil and bread. Add some zaatar in there and it's a whole meal. Have you ever tried it?" She dusted the table to place another bread down.
She shook her head.
Fayza paused, blinking at her in shock. "I'll invite you for dinner one day and you can try it. I want to see what you think of our simple meals. Here are your five breads, warm and delicious."
"I asked for four."
"Yeas but you took a bite out of one so I had to give it to you. It wouldn't be sanitary otherwise," she poured more dough on the stove and winked at Amani.
She was on her way home when a pretty but excessively loud girl rushed across the street directly in front of her. "Look! There he is," she practically shouted to the group sitting beneath the tree. Amani, carrying her groceries and bread, followed their gaze to see the boy standing near the end of the street with an average-sized box on his shoulder. "He always comes this way to see me."
Oh, that had to be Yasmeen. Reema said she was the only one still pinning after Bread Boy. She internally apologized to the girl, but Amani would be using him as her main form of entertainment until she returned home. He would remain immune to both of them.
Bread Boy lowered the box to his side, his eyebrows knit in disdain as he spoke to two boys by the gate of their home. Amani slowed as she walked past him, taking notice of something other than a blank look in his eyes for the first time. He was angry but tried his best to hide it. She was near enough to hear when he handed the box to one of the boys and thanked them for telling him.
Then he turned around too quickly and with an expression of determined intent that made her cut down the first street to her right.
"Is that what he said?" Amani smiled, placing her hands between her parted legs and leaning forward to peer down at the blonde boy laying in the bed beside her.
He nodded. "But I put him in his place. Nobody can talk about my baby like that." She pursed her lips when he slid his hand over her thighs and sent butterflies fluttering into her chest. He caught the nervousness and smirked. "What? You like when I call you my baby?" He repeated, narrowing his eyes at her.
She rolled her eyes. "Maybe a little."
"I thought you hated affection."
"Not from you," she slid her fingers over his bicep, appreciating the way the muscle remained toned and strong beneath her touch. "You can call me whatever you want."
He raised an eyebrow. "Can I call you... honey?"
She cringed but nodded.
"Sexy?" Amani frowned at the word but remained too captivated by the way his hand began massaging her thighs. "What? You are sexy. Look at you." His hands climbed to her waist and slid around to her back like it didn't matter where his touch was as long as it was on her. Amani, for once, wasn't worried.
"You can call me anything you want to too, Amani. Hottie, sexy, daddy," he smirked.
She slapped his chest. "Stop."
"Your parents aren't here, you know."
Amani's expression clouded. "I didn't notice."
He snorted. "That means we can do whatever we want and nobody will hear us. Nobody will stop us," he sat up, lifting himself onto his knees until he became much larger than her.
"I mean, we're not being that loud," she leaned away, pretending to fix her sock. "They wouldn't have heard us anyway."
"Yeah but I can make you get loud."
She pressed her hand into his chest and laughed. "No."
"Come on, Amani. We've been waiting for this, haven't we?" He held her wrist and gently slid it away from his chest and onto his legs. "This is why you called me over, isn't it?"
Amani shook her head. "I thought we could just hang out and, I don't know, watch Netflix. We've been talking about the new spin-off show that came out."
"Yeah, we can. Put it on."
"Stop!" She pulled herself off the bed and away from her.
He sighed. "Dude, what?"
"I'm not going to- we're not going to do anything. I've always told you that I don't do that stuff so why are you being like this?" She shoved her feet into the sandals at the base of the bed.
"We're dating, Amani. That's what you do when you date."
She shook her head. "You said we didn't have to."
He threw his legs onto the floor but remained on the bed, parting his legs and resting his elbows on his knees when he stared up at her. "Well, now I want to. Why is are you being so dramatic about it? We've been together for eight months-."
"What is this?"
Amani's heart fell through her feet and into the darkest pits of the world at the sound of her father's voice. When she mustered the courage to turn, his face with red with rage at the sight of the boy sitting on her bed. "What are you doing in my home? Who is this boy, Amina?" He asked her.
"I thought you said your parents were gone."
She closed her eyes in horror.
"Gone- we were not here but you were? Amani, you brought this strange boy to your room because we were gone?"
"I'm her boyfriend, dude."
And then Amani died. Her soul left her body and raced as far away from her home as her speeding legs would allow her. But the universe forced her back into her body at rage that came next from her father, screaming at the boy until he raced out of her front door and then redirecting to her. He threw his shoe at her as she desperately tried to explain to him the purity of their interaction in its most exaggerated form, but her father didn't listen.
"He's lying, baba!"
"You are the liar!" He opened her closet and tore her clothes off their racks. "I should never have come to this country. My daughter is hiding boys in her room and sneaking them when I leave my home. All this because I trust you! What else have you done when we were gone?" He shouted, pushing her away when Amani tried to pick her belongings off the floor.
"Nothing, baba! I didn't do anything. This was the first time-."
In the corner, her mother stood in silence. Amani wanted to ask for her help but she knew that nobody could help her now.
Her dad grabbed her arms and sat her on the bed, his grip so hard on her arms she felt like her bones might break. "I trusted you, Amani, bas you are not a good daughter! I have to send you back."
"Back?" Her chest tightened.
"I'm buying you a ticket. You are going to fix your behavior there and learn again everything that I failed to teach you!" He shoved her clothes into the suitcase.
Amani's eyes widened in panic. "What? Mama-."
"Rami, you can't send her back. It's not safe," her mother tried. "She is still young. You won't do it again, right Amani?"
Tears were quickly welling up in the frantic girl's eyes. She tried to pull the clothes from the suitcase but her father tore them out of her grip and forced them back in. "I won't do it again, Baba, please."
But the look in her father's eyes was empty. He'd already made his decision and wouldn't listen to anybody now. "It is not safe here! It is better there for someone like her. Yalla, help her pack," her father turned to her mother. "I am going to call the airport. She is leaving this place on the first flight."
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Muhsin is such a babe actually, you guys don't UNDERSTAND.