Sleazebag.
Snake.
Jerk.
Lowlife.
I seethe as i carry the bag with all the strength in me. One step at a time. Never have i ever felt this much infuriated towards a mere stranger.
My blood boils.
How dare he made fun of me like that.
Especially when I'm starving. Who does he think he is?
I grit my teeth,"That sleazy fox better not show his face to me if he wants all his fingers intact".
He played me like a fool.
I can't believe i fell for it.
This day was going so well, but ofcourse something bad was bound to happen one way or another. Nothing goes smoothly in my life. Blame it on my luck.
Despite that, i won't let it slide.
Not for him.
I finally stopped infront of a large red brick building. It has a nice path, filled with flowers along towards the entrance.
He told me to take a right.
This must be it.
I sigh, carrying the suitcase inside with all the energy i have left. As i enter the glass doors i was amazed by the gorgeous and complex design of the interior.
I have to meet the architect. They definitely know what they're doing.
I drag my stuff and plop myself onto one of the benches. Taking a few deep breathes as i relax my tense body.
But somehow, i can't help but get the feeling that I'm being watched. When i look around, i notice a few people are casting glances at me, while whispering to one another.
That's.. strange..
I'm probably too tired that I'm beginning to see things.
I shake the feeling off.
After a few seconds, i swipe my phone out to call my dad and tell him I've arrived, as per his request. But just like how unlucky my fate is, so is my phone when it decides to die out of battery right now, right here, right this second, of all times.
Adding salt to the wound i tell you.
"Astaghfirullah..". I sigh.
Well.. look on the bright side.
You're in France baby.
You're living the dream.
Just like you wanted.
With both my palms on my face, i sat there in a daze.
Silently staring.
Enjoying the beautiful flowers.
A small smile tugging at my lips, as i breath in the fragrance of fresh flowers.
Subhanallah..
It's amazing seeing Allah's creation.
Even if it's something as simple as flowers.
Seeing them flourish from a seed to a fully bloom beauty.
And exploring how there's not just one, but billions of different kinds of species.
Each in different colours.
With different fragrance.
And different uses.
It's simply breathtaking.
"Uhm ehem". A loud cough interrupts my moment with nature.
I turn my head around and saw a middle aged man about a few inches taller than me, in a clean well fitted dark brown suit, with a cane on his hand.
He has piercing eyes that glares at me like I'm the most horrendous being he's ever seen on the face of the earth.
"Are you lost?". His tone sharp.
I swallow thickly and shake my head.
"No".
A frown forms on his face, his moustache twitches.
"Are you blind?".
His questions have me more confused than i am frightened.
"..no", i arch a brow.
He narrows his eyes at me, a disapproving look. Those eyes are specially glued to my hijab. It's like the sight of it bugs him.
Then the man lifts his cane up and directed it towards a sign. "You see that?". He asks.
I nod.
"What does it say?".
I squint my eyes at the sign written in french and read it aloud.
"Boys Dormitory.. ", my words trails off as realization hits.
Fudge.
My jaw clenches.
I quickly snap my head to look at my surroundings. Only to realize it a little too late, that everyone around me are infact..
..boys.
My hands falling into tight fists.
He's so dead.
Heat travels to my face. A mixture of anger and embarrassment flooding through my veins.
That sociopath..
"Care to explain why you're here?". His stern voice snapped me out of my turmoil. The words stuck down my throat.,"I.. um..". My breath hitches, my palms sweat.
Just explain, he'll understand.
I look up, trying to speak. But as soon as i saw his menacing stare i feel paralysed. Didn't utter a word.
What's wrong with you?
Talk Aiyla.
Or he'll think you're an idiot.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?".
But i couldn't.
Not when i could feel that eyes are on me. Watching as i humiliate myself.
Not when i could hear the low snickers and whispers.
I felt like an idiot, as i bit my lips, staring at the ground.
"I..".
"Sorry to keep you". A voice intervenes.
A large figure overshadows me. When i turn around, i was certainly not expecting a six foot two guy, with the most gorgeous olive eyes I've ever encountered. His skin slightly tan, like mine. Sharp jawline. Broad shoulders. Beautiful, curly dark hair.
He casted me a smile, and i felt butterflies in my stomach.
He's hot.
Wow, i sound like Saharah.
"Why didn't you call me?", he asks and i arch a brow in confusion.
Huh?
Before i could speak up the guy turns to the man, hands in his pants. "Sorry Sir, she's my cousin. I told her to wait". His tone dry, but not a single person could detect his blatant lie. "She's new".
I stare at him amazed.
Oh my god.
He's good.
And more importantly..
He's got..
A. Freaking. British. Accent.
The senile man scrutinize, watching him and me back and forth. I felt a sweat breaking up on my forehead. "Yes, I'm new, and this guy- i mean my cousin, told me to wait here for him". I flash him the most innocent smile. But the attention we're drawing in makes me feel rather bashful.
"Right, i hope she didn't cause any trouble?". He leans in, placing an arm around me, taking me by surprise.
My stomach flips as i feel the weight of his shoulders around me.
Two guys in one day..
Aiyla baby you're on a roll.
Dad's gonna flip if he knows.
Shut up.
I swallow thickly.
"No. Not yet ofcourse". The man coughs.
What does 'not yet' mean?
"I believe she won't be a trouble in the future. I give you my word", he pulls me closer and i feel my muscles tense. Every breath of air i take gets heavier.
Deep breathes Aiyla, remember what Yusuf taught you.
I try to pull away my thoughts from thinking about the large arms wrapped around my back, and focus on the detailed carvings of the ceilings.
One hamster.
"I certainly hope not".
Two hamsters.
"I wouldn't want another troublemaker roaming around the school".
Three hamsters.
"Unless they're begging for an expulsion".
I tensed.
E-expulsion?!
My heart pounds erratically.
Am i getting expelled? I didn't even make it on the first day-
"She would be the least of your worries then". The guy answers, not feeling the least bit threatened by his words. But here i am, feeling like a I'm standing at the edge of a cliff. A few steps away from falling to my demise.
The unsatisfied look on his face is evident. But the guy who stood by my side, wouldn't budge, not even bat an eye.
He has that strong aura, that screams dominance and power.
Even i felt intimidated.
After a few heated seconds, the moustache man finally taps on his cane and turns around. A rough and spiteful tone to his voice as he cast us a last glance before walking away,"We'll see about that".
I sigh in relief.
Feeling a weight lifted off my shoulders.
Literally.
The guy moves back, shoving his hands inside his pockets."Show's over".
"Va te faire foutre (Fuck off)". He utters dryly, without so much as a glance. I had no idea what he just said, but i think it was something along the lines of go away because people around us quickly avert their gaze and move on with their day.
He's cool.
Really cool.
A little intimidating but still cool.
I can't help but analyse him.
He dresses very well. I eye at the pair of Jordan's he's wearing up to the khaki coloured cargo pants until they reach to the upper end of his black sweater.
If you tell me that this guy is in the teen vogue fashion magazine i would believe you without a doubt.
My seventeen year old self would've fallen head over heels with him because his great choices in clothing and unforgettably handsome face is definitely my type.
But it's not like i can afford to have a type.
Or fall head over heels.
I get rid of the ridiculous thoughts and give him a small genuine smile.
"Thanks, appreciate it".
He simply nods,"Don't worry about it".
I felt something as our gaze find each other. A small tingle in the back of my mind.
"You registered yet?", his eyes fell to my suitcase. I shake my head,"No, actually I'm looking for the administration office".
His brows furrows,"You've been carrying that from the entrance?".
I nod.
"Don't you know there are bell boys for that?", He questions me. My eyes flicker momentarily as i try and process what he said.
There are bell boys for that.
"You're telling me.. ", i pinch the bridge of my nose. "Someone could've helped me carry this sack of rice half an hour ago?". There is clear frustration in my voice.
"Yes".
"Astaghfirullah", i drop down on my knees.
His eyes glints in amusement.
Then he takes a good look at me. His olive eyes gazing at my facial structures carefully, gently. I fidget, feeling myself flush under his gaze.
Fine, I'm adorable as a hamster.
But yallah habibi you mind looking away before i poke you in the eyes?
I lift my head up but my gaze strays away from him. And i softly mumble but loud enough for him to hear. "Could you.. help me.. s'il vous plaît". My cheeks redden slightly, embarrassed to the fact that I'm asking for help.
A smirk snakes up his plump, dainty pink lips. "Get up".
I got up on my feet with a heavy breath. His hand reaches for my suitcase, and as he pulls it up his eyes somewhat widen in surprise."What the- Did you stuff dead bodies inside this bag?".
I wish.
A chuckle left my mouth as i adjust the duffle bag around my arm. He turns around and walks ahead, holding the suitcase in one hand. "Wait up-", i try to keep up with his big strides.
After a few more minutes, we reached at a lobby. My gaze lingers around in awe at the beautiful gold carved ceilings, crystal chandelier and white marble floors. The place is shouting luxury.
The guy places my suitcase down. "Here we are".
"Wow", my mouth hangs open in amazement.
His eyes wander around, uninterested and unimpressed,"It's nothing fabulous, ofcourse we've seen better am i right?".
I didn't know how to respond to that. Because honestly, the closest thing I've ever had to luxury is when Saharah's father sent one of his assistants to come and pick us up from school, in his Rolls Royce.
By the way, if i haven't already told you.
She's rich.
But she's good at keeping a low profile and being modest, eventhough her dad is one of the most successful billionaires in the country.
I didn't even know that piece of information until that day when i was busy gushing, and giggling, while we emptied out the mini fridge in her Rolls Royce.
"Sure", i brush it off with a scoff.
My face turns to him and i cast a small smile. "T-thanks for helping out.. and for earlier too". I said sincerely, i genuinely appreciate that he's willing to take a few minutes of his day and lend me a hand.
The guy even got me out of trouble, i owe him a solid.
"It's fine, you'll get used to Mr Pierre. Just have a smart mouth and you're good to go". He runs his hands up his hair. "Noted", i chuckle.
"So.. stay outta trouble and i guess I'll see you around..", his eyes waiting for me to finish his words.
"Aiyla".
"Aiyla Yasir". I grin.
He stills.
A flash of something in his eyes as the name slips my mouth. His shoulders and hands tensed. But it was quick, and stuck only for a mere second.
He nods.
"It's.. nice to meet you, Aiyla". The tone of his voice dry but has a small edge to it. With another charming smile, i beam."You too..", i wait for him.
"Harris..", the name so smooth it rolls of his tongue like a symphony.
We turn in opposite directions. He walks forward and so do i. That is until my steps comes to a halt as i hear a low guttural curse slipping out.
"Merde..". (Fuck)
I flip my head. "What's that?".
He's gone.
_________________________________________
Fyi Harris is from England. But he's temporarily staying in France.
I missed out that detail before so yall are probably confused. It's probably cuz his accent is loud an clear in my head before. But then i remembered that yall aren't in my head. Haha.