Heart on Lock *13*

Once the plane landed, my breath hitched in my chest for a moment as texts started to come in. I sighed in relief —none of them were from Razzaq, or anyone accusing me of being out of the country. Just random group texts and some texts from Jude asking if I’d tried some new Japanese restaurant. I hope the single tick didn’t throw her off.

Sorry, on a phone cleanse. No, how was it?

I replied. 

“You okay?” Yaqoub asked me, and maybe my anxiety was palpable, emanating from my skin. Or maybe he knew me well enough already.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I replied with a smile once the plane came to a full stop. He unloaded my carry-on, and we went back to pretending not to know each other for the remainder of the journey out of the airport, especially with his clingy relative walking with him all the way until he got into a taxi. 

“He offered to take me to my hotel. I said I had a car arranged already,” Yaqoub said with a chuckle. 

“I was starting to get jealous,” I joked, getting a laugh from him. 

Oh well, at least we got into a car together to our hotel. 

Separate rooms, at least, but hopefully next to each other. It didn't look that bad in pictures, I mean, it wasn't the Four Seasons, but it was barable. Nothing I'd choose, though, and not a place my family would ever set foot in. 

“We made it,” he said with a sigh once we got into the taxi. 

“We really did,” I said, smiling at him. I inched my hand closer to him, catching him by surprise, and he took it. Goosebumps rose on my skin, and I smiled to myself, drowning in this little dream of mine, one no one could know about.

A flicker of reality brought me down from cloud nine once the hotel came into view, and I gulped. Maybe it was better on the inside, but my disappointment only continued once I set foot in the lobby. It looked a bit commercial and worn down, with kids running wild because their parents were busy checking in. I could only hope my room was clean. I couldn't go behind Yaqoub's back to upgrade to a suite, 

"You don't like the hotel, do you?" he asked me, reading my mind again. I immediately blushed and laughed, trying to control my facial reaction.

"It's fine, don't worry; the kids are just pissing me off," I said with a quick chuckle, but he didn't seem convinced, and smiled politely instead. He really did know me well enough. 

We checked in together, separate rooms, of course, but literally next door to each other. As intimate as it would get...for now. He pushed my carry-on as well as his to the elevator, where we were finally alone. 

The elevator smelled of food, of course, and my stomach rumbled loudly, causing him to smile. 

"Hungry?" he asked me.

"Starving," I replied 

"Do you want to do room service or eat out?" he asked me. I looked at the time; it was almost midnight UAE time, and I was exhausted. 

"I think room service," I said as the elevator doors opened.

"Me too," he said. My heart nearly fell out of its cage; was he hinting at us both having room service together? 

However, the next words he uttered weren't "meet me in my room to order" but "I think these are our rooms."

While a large part of me was relieved, the smaller, wilder side of me had hoped he'd invite me to have dinner in his room. The two of us, in a hotel room alone? It was too soon, and very naive of me.

"Good night," I told him with a smile. 

"Good night," he replied. 

It was only when I closed the door of my hotel room was I able to think properly. 

I was in a foreign country, alone, with some man my family would never approve of, while being engaged to someone else. 

What had I done?

*** 

Sunlight bled through the gap between the curtains. It took me a bit to align myself and remember where I was. I wasn't home anymore, but in a room of an alleged five-star hotel that felt more like four. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand to see a message from Yaqoub. 

Good morning. Let me know when to meet you in the hallway :) 

He’d texted me once I woke up at eight thirty. He’d woken up ten minutes before I did. 

Good morning:) I’ll meet you in twenty minutes?

I texted before hopping in the bathroom to brush my teeth and get dressed. I’d forced myself to shower last night after the airplane air. I hated it. 

I opted for a sleeveless white Prada shirt and silk white Prada pants as well, secured by my Hermes belt. I looked cute, especially with my hair still in tact in its waves from the salon the day before. 

I did my makeup; which still looked natural, especially with the nude lipstick and light blush, bringing out my features. I thought I looked pretty. Also thanks to the nose job my mother got me as a college graduation gift. I'd thought my nose was fine, but clearly it wasn't small enough for her. 

Leaving the room now 

I texted him. 

I spritzed perfume and grabbed my mini Vanity Chanel bag, the only handbag I packed in my small carryon. Every item was intentionally packed. 

I opened the door to face him, and his smile faltered once his eyes landed on my bare shoulders. 

“Hey, you okay?” I asked him, hoping I wouldn’t see another side of him. He clearly disapproved, but didn't say anything. Maybe he would. 

“Hi, yeah. How are you? Did you sleep well?” he asked, closing his hotel door behind him. I still couldn’t believe I was in a country alone with a guy, and no one even knew. Was he as nervous as I was? 

“I did. The bed is really cozy,” I said with a chuckle, but blushed soon after it. 

“It is,” he said. He looked cool in a pair of navy shorts and a white polo shirt––no logo, though. "How was room service? I got the burger," he asked.

"No way, I did, too!" I said. "It was actually so good." 

"It was," he agreed with the smile while we stepped into the elevator. "Do you still want to go to that restaurant I sent you?” 

“Your choice. I’m here for the race,” I said, and he laughed.

“Name me one driver this race,” he said, teasing me. 

“Okay, okay…I’m here, but it’s mostly to see you,” I said, watching the floor numbers on the elevator descend. 

“Me too. I couldn’t care less about the race,” he said, smiling softly at me and goosebumps appeared on my skin again. 

I held my breath during the elevator ride, until we stopped two floors below us for some foreigners, which still felt like forever. I was now sure that I couldn’t be alone with him, and maybe he felt the same way, too.

He opened the door of the cab for me, feeling spoiled already. I was adamant that I paid for my own hotel room, but other than that he paid for everything else, and I hope it empowered him somehow. 

"You seem nervous," he said with a chuckle. I smiled softly.

"It's not like I ever traveled alone with..., you know," I said, feeling my face flush.

"Me neither," he replied. "You'll be okay, I promise," he replied. 

"You're not judging me, are you?" I asked him, and he laughed, flashing me his pearly white smile. 

"Of course not. I'm happy you're here," he replied, and my face flushed again. 

"Me too," I replied. 

*** 

It was humid and sunny at the cafe, and we still sat outside, admiring the view of the vast desert landscape, at least what I could see from behind my sunglasses. I didn't know if I recognized anyone, but as far as my eyes could see there wasn't anyone familiar. I relaxed a little. 

“I’ll be thinking about the club sandwich for a while,” I said, and he chuckled. 

“It’s so good, I admit. Good choice,” he told me. He was unusually quiet that day, and I wondered if my choice of clothing was to blame. It was just a sleeveless shirt, why would he be so upset over it? Or maybe he had a different idea of the trip in his head and I was being too boring. I kind of wished I'd invited him over for a room service dinner. 

“Are you okay, by the way? You seem a bit off,” I told him, taking a sip of my latte. He smiled softly, looking devilishly handsome with his shades on. 

“I’m fine, I was just thinking of…you know, us,” he said, placing his elbows on the table, and my stomach twisted. Was this a breakup? 

“What do you mean?” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. 

“We’re already in another country alone together. I’m clearly serious about you,” he began like he was wording these sentences in his head last night before bed. I gulped, clueless as to what to say. 

“I am, too,” I said. Was I really? 

“I want to make things official when we’re back,” he said. “I’ll have my mother contact your mother and everything,” he said. 

Oh no, oh no no no. 

I forced a smile. “You mean it?”

“Of course I do,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Crap, she just traveled back to France,” I said, hoping it would buy me some time. 

“It’s okay, we’ll wait until she’s back,” he said like nothing would stop us. At least I had time on my side. 

“I’m excited,” I said, as if I didn’t have another engagement waiting for me. 

“So am I,” he replied with a soft smile. “How about we head to the arena? The race is about to start,” he said. 

“Sure,” I replied.  

He paid the bill, and we walked to the arena, which we regretted after our walk hit five minutes. It was too humid and I was worried my hair would flip on me. My shoulders were burning, but maybe it was also my punishment for Yaqoub's clear disapproval. 

I side-eyed the VIP area, wishing I’d upgraded us but I knew it would've been insulting to him. He couldn’t afford it. Talal would. Was I making a mistake? What if down the line things did get tough because of how different Yaqoub and I were financially?

As if my mother would approve of him, anyway. 

I heard him call my name but it seemed far away, like my ears were tricking me. 

“You okay?” he said, looking confused. 

I furrowed my brow. “Yeah. Just…felt a bit weird.”

“Zaina?” another voice said, but this time it didn’t come from him. 

We both turned, wide eyed and my legs turned weak. 

Right in front of us, was no other than Razzaq.