part of the road at this hour so the street was empty, and the streetlamps

illuminated our faces.
“Fa’iza, what are you doing?” There was a worried look on his face as
he leaned towards me.
“I just – I just I need to know.” I pulled my hand away before he could
touch me. I was angry, mostly at myself – for being so jealous, for the
inexplicable need to know details about his past. But above all, I was angry
at an intimacy I assumed he’d shared with her.
He sighed loudly as he leaned back in his leather seat. After what felt
like a long minute, he answered: “She was my girlfriend so yes, we were
having sex.”
I didn’t know what I was expecting the answer to be, but I definitely
didn’t expect to feel like I’d been punched in the guts. All this was his past,
yet his admission made me even more insecure.
“I just feel like – like –” I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn’t have
the words. He was still looking at me with a questioning look in his eye. “I
feel like I don’t know what we’re doing.”
“What do you mean?” He spoke softly, dragging out every syllable,
looking at me very closely.
“I feel like you’re – um, how do I put this?” I put my finger to my lip, “I
feel like you‘re used to certain things in a relationship – things I can’t quite
give you.”
“Give me?” He scoffed.
I nodded slowly.
“Sex isn’t something you give.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t, Fa’iza.”

“Why are you even with me?” I whispered, like I was scared of the
words that escaped my mouth. “You – you could have anyone you want.
But you chose me. Why?”
He held my gaze, probably wondering where all this was coming from.
“I read a message in your inbox, an email she’d sent. But then I found
her on Instagram and saw a picture of you two in the Bahamas or Barbados,
or wherever that was. I don’t know why I did all that. I know it’s not right,
and I’m sorry. I just wanted to know more than I already did.” A single tear
fell down my cheek. Damn it! I looked down at my hands, so he wouldn’t
see me cry.
His index finger immediately went to my cheek, wiping away the tears.
I pulled my face away. “Look at me,” he said softly. I shook my head, then
turned to look out of my window, and into the darkness.
I heard him open his door and within seconds, he was outside mine. He
opened it gently and crouched in front of me. His hands found mine on my
laps and his thumb grazed the inside of my palm.
“Why you? Let’s see. You’re smart. You’re kind. You’re unintentionally
funny. You’re honest. You make me want to be a better person,” his fingers
squeezed mine gently. “For weeks, I couldn’t get you out of my head. It felt
like fate when I saw you again at that restaurant. I can’t explain how I felt
in that moment – how it felt then, how it feels now. I look for things I can
move around on my schedule just to spend time with you. This feeling –
what I feel for you – it’s different from anything I’ve felt in the past,” he
paused, then sighed. “I would be lying if I said sex hadn’t crossed my mind
these past few months. I’m so fucking attracted to you – so much that I’m
willing to be celibate, if that’s what it takes to be with you. No, the irony
isn’t lost on me.” I looked at him and he smiled. “Damn,” he said after a

moment of silence. “You got all that information on Instagram? The CIA
has got nothing on you!” Despite myself, I started laughing , and he joined
me. “This is what I like to see – your laughter, not your tears,” he said, then
kissed my hands after we’d stopped laughing.
When he got back into the car, he turned off the hazard lights and we
got back on the road. Speeding on the highway on our way back to the
residence – my hand in his – we couldn’t stop laughing and stealing glances
at each other.

I