Love from A to Z(51)

“No, this is . . . different.”

Kavi leaned back, raising her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think he likes me back.”

“Of course he would! You’re awesome!”

“No, I mean, as in he seriously likes me back.” I thought about how he’d left the apartment today.

He’d said, “For the first time in a long time, I’m feeling absolutely good.”

Annabelle had nodded, rolling the IV machine to the door. “The treatment will do that for you. Some people feel it right away. You just need to continue your appointments with your neurologist in London.”

When Annabelle turned around to put her shoes on, and Auntie Nandy went to her bedroom to get car keys to drive him back home, he said, “I’m feeling good for other reasons too.”

Without exchanging glances, I knew what he was talking about.

I’d looked calm on the surface, but fireworks had exploded inside.

“Oh wow, you’re really feeling it. Your face is like rippling. I’ve never seen it like this,” Kavi said, leaning forward to examine me so close, her face took up the entire screen. Then, as she sat down, she zoomed out again. “But wait. You said you don’t believe in dating. How does this work?”

“It doesn’t, actually. Work, I mean.” I lay back in bed and lifted the phone high above me so Kavi could see the pitiful state I was in. “This has been me for most of today. Lying here, tossing and turning.”

“Inflamed by passion? Tormented by desire? Horny?”

“Ew, but yeah, kind of.” I didn’t admit to her how much that was true. “See, that’s why Islam tells us horny ones to lower our gaze around people, not look at them like you’re eating them with your eyes.”

“Zayneb, did you eat him with your eyes?” Kavi giggled. “Because you look like you’ve got a stomachache from overeating.”

“Astaghfirullah. That’s been me all day, saying astaghfirullah.” I groaned. “And the worst thing is that he’s Muslim, too.”

Kavi sat up in the chair, her big eyes activated with interest. “But that’s amazing, isn’t it? He’ll get you. How Muslim you are, because, girl, you and Ayaan are super Muslim.”

“No, it’s terrible that he’s Muslim. Because if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t have made sense in my head, and I would be over it. Because then maybe he would have asked me out, and I could have been like, Nope, that’s not me, I don’t go out with dudes alone. Bam, done with.” I groaned again. “Kavi, help me.”

“I don’t get it. What about you and Yasin? When you guys were talking to each other?”

“That was nothing. And his parents knew my parents, so it would have been legit, if things had developed.”

“Make it legit, then. If he likes you as much as you like him.” Kavi shrugged. “There’s always a solution, remember?”

I pulled myself up to lean on the headboard and put my glasses back on. Is that even possible?

It’s weird.

But could it be possible?

“Kavi, I’m scared about how much I crave him.” I blinked at her sadly. “Like, it’s intense.”

“Tell me why, then. Other than the physical reasons, because, yeah, I see that.” She tilted her head, her face serious now. “But don’t tell me that’s the only reason?”

“No, no way. Like, yeah, there’s this part of me that’s excited about him liking me back. Excited that, hey, this guy I thought was cute on first sight likes me, too! That’s there, yeah, and that’s purely physical,” I admitted. “But then . . . if I’d been around him and he had turned out to be a douchebag, even with those looks, I would have slammed the door shut super fast.”

“So you like him because he’s cute, likes you back, and is not a douchebag? Zay, not good enough reasons to twist yourself like this.”

I didn’t tell her that I wanted to be there for him. That he had something going on that was huge and that I didn’t want him to go through it by himself, or, I mean, with the DIS crew, who didn’t know about it—except for Connor.

But MS was his truth to tell.

I lay down again. “I like him because he’s gentle and kind and considerate and has this sense of confidence without being in your face about it, and he’s super thoughtful; his little sister adores him; so do his friends at the international school he went to. But then he’s kind of alone. I can see that. It oozes out of him.” I sat up, something dawning on me. “Like, when we were talking about Hogwarts houses the first day I hung out with his friends, all of them said he was in a house by himself, because he didn’t even fit in half houses, or quarter houses. Like how I’m part Gryffindor and part Slytherin, and you’re three-quarters Ravenclaw and one-quarter Hufflepuff? He’s houseless.”

Kavi frowned. “You like him because you feel sorry for him? Sorry, I don’t want to dump on you, but I’m not feeling this. Falling for someone is not a social justice cause.”

She didn’t get it. And I couldn’t explain it over FaceTime. I crossed my legs and pulled my hair back into a bun, securing it with a scrunchie, ready to switch topics, ready to shut down my Adam-ache. “Okay, listen, Kavi—let’s change subjects. Give me a bulletin.”