Things were just getting good, so naturally, she put her guard up around Harry.
His reddening cheeks, clammy hands, charming smile—the things Harry had in any situation. But the more Samira heeded him, particularly when it was just the two of them, the more he was different.
She'd watch his eyes a lot—how they'd move, where they'd go, and how long they'd linger— after what he'd done the other night; she worried he had feelings for her. Her assumption was often fortified, especially when his eyes would trail to her lips while she'd talk, or when he'd awkwardly stutter when they'd lock gazes on one another.
There'd often be a twinkle in his eyes when he looked at her.
Samira didn't want to be friends with someone who had feelings for her. The only thing she wanted from Harry was a friendship; she didn't know how she'd go on with life if she lost the bond. She'd gotten too used to spending time with him.
"So, wait, he moved your hair for you?"
"Yeah, isn't that weird?"
Samira had Surat on Facetime, desperate for advice. She watched Surat roll her eyes at her. "He likes you, Samira," Surat clarified, just in case Samira didn't already know.
"He can't." Samira sighed, leaning her head back on the couch. "He's my friend."
"Samira, look." Surat paused. "A friend would tell you, hey, your hair is stuck on your lips. But . . . a boyfriend would pick it off for you. Do you see the difference here?"
"This is so complicated," Samira groaned.
"What did you expect?"
"To be his friend!"
"If he's giving up his time to see you, he definitely likes you. How do you not see that?"
"There's no reason for him to like me," Samira justified.
"Would you really look at yourself in the mirror and tell me no one likes you?" Surat rolled her eyes yet again. "What other things has he done?"
"He said he liked my voice."
"Oh," Surat giggled. "Do you think he imagines how you sound in bed?"
"God, Surat!" Samira scolded. This was normal, however, for Surat to tease Samira in every way possible. "This isn't helping!"
Surat laughed. "Keep going."
Samira sighed, shaking her head. "He said he likes being around me. And I like being around him. He's not as uptight as he used to be."
"Okay."
"And uh . . . he said I had a nice smile."
Surat raised her eyebrows tauntingly. "He wants his dick in it."
"Bye." Samira immediately pressed the hangup button, cutting Surat off and closing her laptop.
She checked her watch; in an hour, she had a lab with Noureen. Then she thought to herself that maybe she could get better guidance from her friend.
Her hair was a puffy mess after combing through her curls. Adding oil helped tame her locks just a little, but not enough. So, she applied makeup to put the attention on her face and not her hair, winging her eyeliner and applying her favorite lipstick.
She took the bus, avoiding the rain; it would worsen her locks. When she arrived at the lab, Noureen sat at the desk, wearing what could be pajamas and a mustard-colored hijab. It matched Samira's yellow jacket.
"Asalamu-Alaikum, Noureen," Samira greeted, sighing as she plopped into the rolling chair next to her.
"Wa-Alaikum-Asalam," Noureen mumbled, keeping her eyes glued to her laptop on the desk.
Samira didn't say a word, laying her head on the desk in hopes of getting some attention from Noureen through her silence.
It worked. Noureen finally shifted her eyes from the laptop to Samira, holding a small smile. Her eyes grew wide when she looked at Samira's face.
"Are you alright?" Noureen asked. "You don't look so happy."
"Because I'm not."
Noureen tittered. "Why is that?"
"I think Harry has a crush on me," Samira complained.
"Wait, you don't have a crush on him?" Noureen retorted.
Samira bit her cheek for a second before responding. "No . . . ?"
"I think you do," Noureen teased, bringing her eyes back to her laptop.
"Why are you saying that?" Samira challenged, furrowing her eyebrows.
"Because, Samira, if you really didn't like him, then you wouldn't talk to me about it."
Samira's mind sent no word to her tongue; Noureen's response left her speechless.
Noureen looked at her as she sat dumbly for a few seconds. "Am I wrong?" She asked.
"You are," Samira countered, trying to forget the idea that she might actually have a crush on Harry. "Can we talk about the actual problem?"
Noureen turned her chair to Samira. "You're spending your evening with him after the lab, aren't you? I'm guessing you're going to ask him if he likes you?"
"I'm considering it. If he likes me, it could change everything."
"Based on the things I heard about him, it sounds like he does." Noureen put her hand in Samira's hair, holding her affectionately. "You're easy to like, Samira. I don't see why he wouldn't."
"You're not telling me what I want to hear," Samira whined.
"You're in denial, then."
"Whatever."
"If you like him too, I can't judge you for how you act on it." Noureen sighed, shaking her head. "Like you, I'm struggling with my faith, too."
Surprised, Samira asked, "Really?"
A smile crept onto her lips. "After seeing how consistent you are with prayer, I've really been trying to keep up myself."
"Oh." Samira smiled sheepishly. "That's great."
"Because of you." Noureen pinched her cheek.
"Stop hyping me up." Samira sat up, shoving her shoulder, holding a shy smile. "Let's get this lab over with. Last thing before I go home next week."
"Alright," Noureen agreed.
They'd finished later than expected; Samira rushed to pack her things up. Noureen described her as 'eager' to meet Harry, which yet again, Samira denied. With her heavy backpack sitting on her shoulders, she walked to Leaf as the sun began to set.
Someone stood out the door of Leaf. Samira had to squint her eyes because the darkening sky made it difficult for her to see. All she could see was a tall figure wearing different colors.
"Hey!" She heard the person's husky voice, and it sounded like Harry. Harry?
Then after a few feet more, she fully opened her eyes—it was indeed Harry. He looked different: he wore an actual outfit: the first few buttons were open, his sleeves were rolled up, and his shirt was tucked into his pants. His hair looked curled and soft, she could see his cross necklace and tattoos sitting at the very top of his chest, and the pleasant scent that came off him could be detected from feet away. Harry was almost . . . attractive.
Well, this wasn't convenient for Samira. At all.
Samira blinked a few times, laughing awkwardly. "I couldn't even recognize you!" She exclaimed, thinking about complimenting how he looked, but she decided against it.
Harry smiled, moving one of the strands that sat over his forehead. "I know, I know. I'm wearing clothes that aren't my uniform. I'm an alien," he joked, putting his hands in the pockets of his slacks, holding a sheepish smile. His posture was not the same.
Is he flexing right now? Samira thought to herself.
"You look great," she praised in the kindest, friendliest, most platonic way possible.
"Thank you," he replied, his face reddening.
Please, he's blushing. Why didn't I notice how much he did before this?
"I'm not going to say 'you're welcome'," Samira replied.
Harry grinned, pointing his finger at her. "You just did, though."
Samira rolled her eyes, slapping his hand. "Shut up."
The contact of their skin made her lose her breath. She looked away from him, clearing her throat.
"Are you okay? You're acting weird," Harry asked, leaning closer to her, his gaze filled with solicitude.
"Me?" Samira blew a raspberry. "No."
"Okay." Harry asked nothing more. "I want to show you the roof. I thought we could sit there."
Samira lifted her head, looking to the top of the restaurant. "There's a roof?"
"Yeah," Harry answered, his voice slightly high. "There's nothing up there, though."
"Then why are we going there?"
"You'll see."
Harry took her hand—ya Rabb—his hand in hers. It was warm, welcoming, soft. Her heart hammered in her throat, allowing Harry to lead the way, holding hands like it was the most normal thing they'd ever done.
Something hit her chest when she felt his hand let go of hers. What the fuck is going on? She thought.
The roof seemed empty, but it wasn't. In the center was what looked like a brick hearth with chairs surrounding it; in one corner was a garden with flowers, mostly sunflowers.
"Cute," Samira said as she walked next to Harry. "Does anyone come up here?"
"Not yet."
"Just you?"
"Mostly."
Samira was endeared. "Is that your garden?" She pointed at the corner with stone pots and plastic boxes with flowers.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. It's getting cold now, though. I need to find a place for them inside."
Samira shook her head, charmed. "Why am I not surprised that you garden?"
"Honestly, I'm surprised too," Harry laughed. "I just wanted to put something up here."
"The roof is empty." Samira looked around as the wind blew through her hair. "It belongs to the restaurant, right?"
They stood at the end of the roof, near the garden as they watched the sunset. "It does. We just don't have enough revenue to make it useful."
"Looks like you've made it useful."
Harry sighed. "I'm trying to add more seating by next spring. I thought it could be used for parties or something. Everyone thinks I'm crazy, but I want to make it happen."
"You will," Samira encouraged, looking at him. "You put a garden up here just because you wanted to," she laughed.
"I guess you're right." Harry turned to her, holding a small smile. "You're right about everything."
"I'm not right about everything." Samira snorted.
"You are, though."
"Really?"
"Really."
Samira decided she'd dig it out of him rather than directly asking if he had feelings for her. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to him, walking closer to him.
"What else do you think of me?" She asked.
Harry softly blinked. "You're nice."
Samira took a step closer. "What else?"
His eyes raked her body, up and down. Is he checking me out?
"The things you say," he replied nonchalantly.
"Like?" Samira urged.
Harry caressed his arms as he looked to the ground. "I can't just pick and choose." He shrugged.
Oh. "Alright, don't tell me." Samira turned around, walking away from him.
"Fine." Harry gripped her arm before she could make it feet away from him. He pulled her closer; Samira let him.
"I thought about it a lot, it's stupid." Harry held a shy simper, locking their eyes. "But this thing your father told you, where if someone smiles, you see their heart . . . and lately, I—" he paused.
"What?"A cold breeze rushed onto her arm once she took his hand away from her.
Harry sighed. "All I think about is your smile."
Samira blinked, feeling his gaze look way past her irises. Everything he said held weight to him, and she could feel it meant something to her, too. It truly did, she couldn't deny it. She couldn't even remember telling him that but she was sure she did at some point because she felt the same way—she could see his heart in his smile and couldn't get it out of her mind.
"Do you have feelings for me, Harry?" She asked.
Harry's countenance changed like a waning moon. The liveliness in his eyes died down as the sun faded from the sky. His smile was gone; his focus was stormed. She could see it clearly: he felt rejected.
"Listen, I'm just asking because I see it every time I'm with you. I can't be friends with you if you have feelings for me," Samira added, hoping to drive her point into his head.
Harry was struggling to find an answer; she knew when he looked away from her after they held eye-contact for what felt like hours. He didn't look too happy.
"Because if you do . . ." Samira let out a laugh that was almost sinister, but she couldn't help herself; she sought comfort in an unwanted situation.
Harry let out a sharp sigh, biting the inside of his cheek.
"I don't," he answered, almost faltering as he looked away.
Samira shook her head, detecting the dishonesty laced in the syllables of those two words. "Be direct for once, goddammit."
Harry said nothing, treating it as though she hadn't said anything at all.
She stepped forward, feeling a little heat in her cheeks.
"Look at me and say it."
Samira didn't know what response she wanted from him because she didn't know what difference it would make. Either way, she was going to walk away.
"Come to me when you're ready to tell the truth," Samira declared, walking off as the sunlight faded.