Day 8,
It was 3:30 PM. I sat at the same couch I had sat on yesterday while waiting for Zaid.
It was 3:30 PM. I sat at the same couch I had sat on yesterday while waiting for Zaid.
I told Lulu I was going to the lobby for wifi and then to the spa for a mani/pedi, while she was on her laptop watching PLL. I smiled as Zaid approached me, and he beamed; I could see a hint of a dimple from afar, which I tried not to stare at. He wore a pair of jeans and a gray pullover with some sneakers. He looked good, as usual, and his cane actually made him look hotter for some reason. I was so glad there wasn't any other person from school in the lobby. Or teacher.
"Yallah?" he said.
"Yallah," I replied as I adjusted my knit navy dress under my coat.
I followed him to the limo as he opened the door for me and I stepped in.
He told Kevin where to go before turning to me.
"Ha, shlon il Eiffel Tower ilyom?" he teased.
"Iyanin," I joked.
We were finally going to the Eiffel Tower today in the morning. On the way iktishafna inna 7ail za7ma that they cancelled the trip and we went to the Louvre for the second time instead. We almost died but this time I actually went in to see the Mona Lisa which I took a close picture of. Zaid was able to go to the hotel instead of the Louvre because he complained about the broken escalator.
"Shlon your day in?" I asked him.
"Zain wallah, ma9akht'ha room service," he said.
"Your roommate bynhar 3ayal," I joked.
He smiled. "La ma3inde roommate."
I furrowed my brow in confusion.
"3a6oni suite. Knt abi handicapped accessible room le2ana arya7li oo bas ilsuite mawjood. Oo ma'66arait adfa3 farg ilsi3ir," he wiggled his eyebrows and I laughed.
"Wain bnrou7?" I asked.
"Al7een bitshoufeen," he said as he leaned back and smiled at me.
I had butterflies in my stomach from being alone with him and sneaking out. My mother would definitely not approve, maybe disown me, and my friends would probably dump me if they knew what I was doing. I should probably stop being close to Zaid but I actually liked it; I found comfort with him that I didn't find with my best friends. No judgement, no worries.
I wondered if I was the first girl he was with. I didn't really know much about him apart from what he'd told me or what I'd found out. I'd never known he was this rich, this generous, and this bold.
"Yallah?" he said.
"Yallah," I replied as I went out of the limo. I could see a couple of people trying to figure out if we were famous or anything.
We were outside a street filled with shops and cafes, it was a completely new street, and if anything it was better than Champs Elysees. I could even see the river from across the street.
"Shrayich?" he said as he looked at me with a hand in his pocket.
"Fa'6ee3, wainhum ma wadona hni bidal il Louvre?" I said as I followed him down the road. He laughed.
"Bakhaleech tthougeen a7la croissant bl dnya," he said.
"Croissant?" I asked.
"Trust me," he said as he smirked. I nearly melted. I walked with him to the cafe, which had light pastel tones and colors everywhere from the chairs to the walls to the pastries displayed at the entrance; it was so Parisian; and I loved it. I was bummed to see the cafe almost full but we were lucky enough to find two seats inside. I looked around for any Kuwaitis or someone I recognized, but no one I knew was there, thank God.
The waiter greeted us and Zaid ordered two croissants a la something, which he highly recommended. I ordered a hot chocolate while Zaid ordered a mocha.
"Wain tabeen trou7een?" he asked me as he played with the sugar on the table.
I shrugged. "Inta ilexpert," I told him.
He smiled and looked into my eyes, and I blushed as I looked away.
The waiter brought our drinks and I took a sip of the hot chocolate and Zaid waited eagerly for my reaction.
I nearly burned my tongue but it was amazing; it was so rich I couldn't believe it.
"Ubai fa'6ee3. 7ail rich," I told him as I took another sip. He chuckled as he took a sip of his mocha.
"Tshribeen gahwa?" he asked.
"Umm bas mocha sa3at," I told him. He smiled.
"Nafsi," he said. He called the waiter and told him to bring another cup of mocha for me. This boy was unbelievable.
"Zaid!" I began to object.
"Shnu?" he said with a hint of a smile.
"Thank you," I decided not to argue.
The croissants arrived fresh from the oven and its scent wafted around me. I realized Zaid waited for me to taste the croissant, which I spent a while just admiring. It was a rose jam croissant and it was so buttery and warm that I didn't realize I closed my eyes while devouring it.
"Bl3afya," Zaid said with a chuckle as he took a bite of his croissant. I blushed and took another bite.
"Allah y3afeek," I said.
We began to talk about school. Apparently we'd been in the same school for three years and only knew each other now. I did see a boy with a cane but I never really cared who he was; until now.
"Mita your birthday?" I asked him.
"April 6th, intay?"
"November 16th," I answered. "Al7een bt9eer 18 9a7?" I asked.
"19, ta2akhart sina bl derasa. Intay tawich 17 9a7?" he asked. I nodded.
"Tabeen croissant thanya?" he asked. I shook my head vehemently.
"Bas, magdar," I said with a laugh. He chuckled as he called for the check.
"Akramk allah," I said as we stood up.
"Bl3afya," he said as he picked up his cane from the chair.
We left the cafe and I followed him down the street next to some shops.
"Matabeen tshoufeen aw takhtheen shay?" he asked. I declined. I already finished my mom's souvenirs which were some frames and various of household decor items she seemed to love.
We walked past Cartier and I accidentally stopped to see a beautiful necklace that was like 70,000 KD. Yeah, that he would definitely not buy for me.
"Tabeen itdisheen?" he asked me. "Jarbee," he said as he wiggled his eyebrows and I laughed.
"Itha sharaita ma3a kl i7tirami bas inta officially yanait," I told him, ignoring my manners, and he roared in laughter.
We walked inside Cartier and began to look at the jewelry. Zaid almost called the salesman to take the necklace off the mannequin but I begged him not to. He was wearing jeans to make things worse even if he looked good.
"Omniyah," he called me, and I walked towards him.
"Shrayich b hathi?" he asked, pointing to a silver Love bracelet with diamonds and small spiked studs. I didn't know whether to answer or not.
"7ilwa," I replied.
"Excuse me," he called the salesman, and I walked away from him in case he was buying for his sister or someone else.
"Omniyah," he called me again. "Jarbee," he said as he opened the bracelet.
I furrowed my brow at him but his eyes begged me to try it on, and I did. It looked beautiful on my wrist. I felt like a princess with it, I might be exaggerating, but that was Cartier did to me.
"We'll take it," Zaid said to the salesman and I looked up at him.
"You want it now or as a gift?" the salesman said. I was still stunned.
"Zaid?" I said at him incredulously.
"Shfeech, 7ag ikhty," he said with a chuckle. My face immediately flushed; I made a fool out of myself again.
"Now, please" Zaid told the salesman. I cocked my brow at Zaid who bit his lip and looked at me from the corner of his eye. I knew it was not for his sister; she probably had like ten of those.
I was stunned. He wasn't serious! He got me a dress and a bracelet?
"Zaid la2 magdar!" I told him as I tried to take the bracelet off my wrist, but the stupid bracelet wouldn't move.
"Omniyah, please. I3tabre a thank you minni, hatha a8al shay agdar asawee," he said.
"Zaid it's too much wallah, already tishakart o mala da3i itishakar!" I said.
"Wallah akher shay, please?" he begged. He really wanted me to have it.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
"Thank you," I told him. He beamed, flashing me that damn dimple again. He went back to the salesman so he can show him how to screw the bracelet shut; which was funny because Zaid was trying so hard not to make any skin to skin contact with me.
"How long have you been together?" the salesman asked us, his French accent was dominant, like in the movies.
I froze, and Zaid smiled.
"Does it really matter?" he said, not skipping a beat. The salesman chuckled and took Zaid's credit card. Zaid's credit card, not his dad's but his own credit card. I walked away so I wouldn't see him paying; partially out of manners and partially out of guilt. He treated me like he was my peasant and I was his queen; and all because I was there for him when no one was.
"Yallah?" he said.
"Yallah," I reply.
It was officially our catchphrase. Probably a knock off "Okay?" from the awful novel The Fault in Our Stars but it worked for us.
We got in the limo and I checked my phone; still no calls from anyone. I was so glad. I kept looking at my wrist and the bracelet felt like an alien on it. It was so pretty I couldn't stop staring.
"Fa qarartay wain btrou7een 7ag iljam3a?" Zaid asked as he looked out the window.
I shook my head. "KU, bas lail7een madri ay major. Inta?"
"USC inshallah," he said with a smile.
"Inqibalt khala9?" I asked. He nodded with a beam.
"Oh mabrook!" I told him. "Shnu your major?"
"Allah ybarik feech. Business," he said.
I drummed my fingers on my seat while Zaid still looked outside. Something was stirring up inside me and I just had to say it.
"Zaid?" I said as I looked out the window and played with my bracelet.
"Na3am?" he replied, turning to look at me.
I exhaled. "Zaid please gouli hatha akher shay takhtha lee," I felt like an ungrateful bitch when I said that but I wanted him to know I didn't hang out with him because of his money.
"Akher shay, 7ag al7een," he added, with a chuckle.
"Zaid!" I objected, almost laughing at his answer.
"I like making you happy," he said as he leaned back, and I smiled behind my blush.
"Bas Zaid you barely know me," I told him, almost serious.
"Ma a3tiqid," he said. I cocked my brow at him in surprise.
What did he mean?
Zaid sat up straight, leaning in so I'd hear him better, or maybe so he could hear my heart thumping hard against my ribcage.
His face turned serious as he spoke.
"Il9ara7a gabil la a3arfich kint mar b fatra wayid mt'6ayig feeha. A7is nafsi thigl 3ala mu bas rab3i bas ham ahali. Checkups, 3elaj bara, 2akhart derasti oo derasat ukhwani, rab3i malaw o uhma y7awloun ydawroun shay esawouna oo agdar asawee ma3ahum ba3ad, '3air inni a3a6ilhum o afashilhum sa3at. Ma7ad 7asaita kan mit7amilni 9ij, kilhum yit3iboun o ymiloun ba3dain ewakhroun khair shar," he said, and I noticed that he avoided my eyes.
"Fa ga3adt kil laila ad3i ini alga a7ad-" he paused and, looked at me before speaking again.
"-Omniyah, intay ma kintay t3arfeeni bas sa3adteeni o ta7amalteeni akthar min ili y3arfouni oo a3arifhum," he said. I realized what he was saying, and I was breathless.
"Fa ilhadaya bas 3ashan abayinlich ina I'm grateful...minnich oo min kil ili sawaitee," he said with a hearfelt smile.
I could't talk. My throat was dry.
The limo suddenly stopped and I realized we'd arrived at the drop-off of the hotel, which was our cue to separate.
"Mashkour wayid 3ala kilshay," I could only say to him as I scrambled to get out of the car. I didn't know what else to say; I was so caught off guard by what he'd said.
He smiled, "Wain tabeen etrou7een bacher?" he asked.
"Kaifik," I replied with a smile.
"Afaker b shay dam akher full day bacher," he reasoned. Part of me died when he said that, and I didn't want to imagine how things would be once we were back in Kuwait.
"Okay 3ayal," I said before leaving him to go to the elevator separately. He waved to me, and I waved back.
I was living a dream. I couldn't believe what he'd said about me; that I was an answer to his prayers. It felt like a dream.
I entered the room and Sarah and Lulu were sitting on the bed and talking, and hushed when I showed up.
***
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"Wain bnrou7?" I asked.
"Al7een bitshoufeen," he said as he leaned back and smiled at me.
I had butterflies in my stomach from being alone with him and sneaking out. My mother would definitely not approve, maybe disown me, and my friends would probably dump me if they knew what I was doing. I should probably stop being close to Zaid but I actually liked it; I found comfort with him that I didn't find with my best friends. No judgement, no worries.
I wondered if I was the first girl he was with. I didn't really know much about him apart from what he'd told me or what I'd found out. I'd never known he was this rich, this generous, and this bold.
"Yallah?" he said.
"Yallah," I replied as I went out of the limo. I could see a couple of people trying to figure out if we were famous or anything.
We were outside a street filled with shops and cafes, it was a completely new street, and if anything it was better than Champs Elysees. I could even see the river from across the street.
"Shrayich?" he said as he looked at me with a hand in his pocket.
"Fa'6ee3, wainhum ma wadona hni bidal il Louvre?" I said as I followed him down the road. He laughed.
"Bakhaleech tthougeen a7la croissant bl dnya," he said.
"Croissant?" I asked.
"Trust me," he said as he smirked. I nearly melted. I walked with him to the cafe, which had light pastel tones and colors everywhere from the chairs to the walls to the pastries displayed at the entrance; it was so Parisian; and I loved it. I was bummed to see the cafe almost full but we were lucky enough to find two seats inside. I looked around for any Kuwaitis or someone I recognized, but no one I knew was there, thank God.
The waiter greeted us and Zaid ordered two croissants a la something, which he highly recommended. I ordered a hot chocolate while Zaid ordered a mocha.
"Wain tabeen trou7een?" he asked me as he played with the sugar on the table.
I shrugged. "Inta ilexpert," I told him.
He smiled and looked into my eyes, and I blushed as I looked away.
The waiter brought our drinks and I took a sip of the hot chocolate and Zaid waited eagerly for my reaction.
I nearly burned my tongue but it was amazing; it was so rich I couldn't believe it.
"Ubai fa'6ee3. 7ail rich," I told him as I took another sip. He chuckled as he took a sip of his mocha.
"Tshribeen gahwa?" he asked.
"Umm bas mocha sa3at," I told him. He smiled.
"Nafsi," he said. He called the waiter and told him to bring another cup of mocha for me. This boy was unbelievable.
"Zaid!" I began to object.
"Shnu?" he said with a hint of a smile.
"Thank you," I decided not to argue.
The croissants arrived fresh from the oven and its scent wafted around me. I realized Zaid waited for me to taste the croissant, which I spent a while just admiring. It was a rose jam croissant and it was so buttery and warm that I didn't realize I closed my eyes while devouring it.
"Bl3afya," Zaid said with a chuckle as he took a bite of his croissant. I blushed and took another bite.
"Allah y3afeek," I said.
We began to talk about school. Apparently we'd been in the same school for three years and only knew each other now. I did see a boy with a cane but I never really cared who he was; until now.
"Mita your birthday?" I asked him.
"April 6th, intay?"
"November 16th," I answered. "Al7een bt9eer 18 9a7?" I asked.
"19, ta2akhart sina bl derasa. Intay tawich 17 9a7?" he asked. I nodded.
"Tabeen croissant thanya?" he asked. I shook my head vehemently.
"Bas, magdar," I said with a laugh. He chuckled as he called for the check.
"Akramk allah," I said as we stood up.
"Bl3afya," he said as he picked up his cane from the chair.
We left the cafe and I followed him down the street next to some shops.
"Matabeen tshoufeen aw takhtheen shay?" he asked. I declined. I already finished my mom's souvenirs which were some frames and various of household decor items she seemed to love.
We walked past Cartier and I accidentally stopped to see a beautiful necklace that was like 70,000 KD. Yeah, that he would definitely not buy for me.
"Tabeen itdisheen?" he asked me. "Jarbee," he said as he wiggled his eyebrows and I laughed.
"Itha sharaita ma3a kl i7tirami bas inta officially yanait," I told him, ignoring my manners, and he roared in laughter.
We walked inside Cartier and began to look at the jewelry. Zaid almost called the salesman to take the necklace off the mannequin but I begged him not to. He was wearing jeans to make things worse even if he looked good.
"Omniyah," he called me, and I walked towards him.
"Shrayich b hathi?" he asked, pointing to a silver Love bracelet with diamonds and small spiked studs. I didn't know whether to answer or not.
"7ilwa," I replied.
"Excuse me," he called the salesman, and I walked away from him in case he was buying for his sister or someone else.
"Omniyah," he called me again. "Jarbee," he said as he opened the bracelet.
I furrowed my brow at him but his eyes begged me to try it on, and I did. It looked beautiful on my wrist. I felt like a princess with it, I might be exaggerating, but that was Cartier did to me.
"We'll take it," Zaid said to the salesman and I looked up at him.
"You want it now or as a gift?" the salesman said. I was still stunned.
"Zaid?" I said at him incredulously.
"Shfeech, 7ag ikhty," he said with a chuckle. My face immediately flushed; I made a fool out of myself again.
"Now, please" Zaid told the salesman. I cocked my brow at Zaid who bit his lip and looked at me from the corner of his eye. I knew it was not for his sister; she probably had like ten of those.
I was stunned. He wasn't serious! He got me a dress and a bracelet?
"Zaid la2 magdar!" I told him as I tried to take the bracelet off my wrist, but the stupid bracelet wouldn't move.
"Omniyah, please. I3tabre a thank you minni, hatha a8al shay agdar asawee," he said.
"Zaid it's too much wallah, already tishakart o mala da3i itishakar!" I said.
"Wallah akher shay, please?" he begged. He really wanted me to have it.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
"Thank you," I told him. He beamed, flashing me that damn dimple again. He went back to the salesman so he can show him how to screw the bracelet shut; which was funny because Zaid was trying so hard not to make any skin to skin contact with me.
"How long have you been together?" the salesman asked us, his French accent was dominant, like in the movies.
I froze, and Zaid smiled.
"Does it really matter?" he said, not skipping a beat. The salesman chuckled and took Zaid's credit card. Zaid's credit card, not his dad's but his own credit card. I walked away so I wouldn't see him paying; partially out of manners and partially out of guilt. He treated me like he was my peasant and I was his queen; and all because I was there for him when no one was.
"Yallah?" he said.
"Yallah," I reply.
It was officially our catchphrase. Probably a knock off "Okay?" from the awful novel The Fault in Our Stars but it worked for us.
We got in the limo and I checked my phone; still no calls from anyone. I was so glad. I kept looking at my wrist and the bracelet felt like an alien on it. It was so pretty I couldn't stop staring.
"Fa qarartay wain btrou7een 7ag iljam3a?" Zaid asked as he looked out the window.
I shook my head. "KU, bas lail7een madri ay major. Inta?"
"USC inshallah," he said with a smile.
"Inqibalt khala9?" I asked. He nodded with a beam.
"Oh mabrook!" I told him. "Shnu your major?"
"Allah ybarik feech. Business," he said.
I drummed my fingers on my seat while Zaid still looked outside. Something was stirring up inside me and I just had to say it.
"Zaid?" I said as I looked out the window and played with my bracelet.
"Na3am?" he replied, turning to look at me.
I exhaled. "Zaid please gouli hatha akher shay takhtha lee," I felt like an ungrateful bitch when I said that but I wanted him to know I didn't hang out with him because of his money.
"Akher shay, 7ag al7een," he added, with a chuckle.
"Zaid!" I objected, almost laughing at his answer.
"I like making you happy," he said as he leaned back, and I smiled behind my blush.
"Bas Zaid you barely know me," I told him, almost serious.
"Ma a3tiqid," he said. I cocked my brow at him in surprise.
What did he mean?
Zaid sat up straight, leaning in so I'd hear him better, or maybe so he could hear my heart thumping hard against my ribcage.
His face turned serious as he spoke.
"Il9ara7a gabil la a3arfich kint mar b fatra wayid mt'6ayig feeha. A7is nafsi thigl 3ala mu bas rab3i bas ham ahali. Checkups, 3elaj bara, 2akhart derasti oo derasat ukhwani, rab3i malaw o uhma y7awloun ydawroun shay esawouna oo agdar asawee ma3ahum ba3ad, '3air inni a3a6ilhum o afashilhum sa3at. Ma7ad 7asaita kan mit7amilni 9ij, kilhum yit3iboun o ymiloun ba3dain ewakhroun khair shar," he said, and I noticed that he avoided my eyes.
"Fa ga3adt kil laila ad3i ini alga a7ad-" he paused and, looked at me before speaking again.
"-Omniyah, intay ma kintay t3arfeeni bas sa3adteeni o ta7amalteeni akthar min ili y3arfouni oo a3arifhum," he said. I realized what he was saying, and I was breathless.
"Fa ilhadaya bas 3ashan abayinlich ina I'm grateful...minnich oo min kil ili sawaitee," he said with a hearfelt smile.
I could't talk. My throat was dry.
The limo suddenly stopped and I realized we'd arrived at the drop-off of the hotel, which was our cue to separate.
"Mashkour wayid 3ala kilshay," I could only say to him as I scrambled to get out of the car. I didn't know what else to say; I was so caught off guard by what he'd said.
He smiled, "Wain tabeen etrou7een bacher?" he asked.
"Kaifik," I replied with a smile.
"Afaker b shay dam akher full day bacher," he reasoned. Part of me died when he said that, and I didn't want to imagine how things would be once we were back in Kuwait.
"Okay 3ayal," I said before leaving him to go to the elevator separately. He waved to me, and I waved back.
I was living a dream. I couldn't believe what he'd said about me; that I was an answer to his prayers. It felt like a dream.
I entered the room and Sarah and Lulu were sitting on the bed and talking, and hushed when I showed up.
***
Thank you guys for the feedback; I really love hearing from you! xx
Happy reading!
twitter: @cashmerepoison
I'm really worried she gets caught!! Is this a real story?
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