Sweat stuck a few strands of Noor's dark hair to her forehead as she hurtled down the hallways at top speed. Not that this was very fast, of course. Noor was no track star. She huffed and puffed, book bag swinging from her shoulder, very deeply regretting her decision to take a "short nap" before the most important meeting of the year. The nap had not been short. Noor's naps were never short (she rarely got more than a few hours of sleep at night due to her overbooked university schedule) and now she was late. Panting, she stopped in front of the half-open door to the library. She caught sight of herself in a window, and the reflection made her already cramping stomach twist with slight anxiety and solid annoyance. When she stepped into the doorway and her eyes found Zafira, she nearly broke her teeth because of the ferocity with which she ground them.
Noor had hated Zafira since the aggravating prick of a girl had showed up one day at Loxton University and hadn't left. But never had she hated Zafira more than at this moment. The girl in question was sitting at an otherwise empty table in the crowded library. To anybody else in the world, this wouldn't have drawn more than a second glance. Noor's angry eyes, however, were fixed on Zafira as though she was hoping for laser beams to shoot out of them and zap the girl dead.
Because Zafira was sitting with her notebook open before her, long hair tossed over one shoulder, in Noor's seat. The blinding sunlight that filtered through the stained glass windows all around the library never touched that particular seat. It was ideally located for all situations, and it was hers. But there Zafira sat, smack dab in Noor's territory.
Noor would be lying if she said that she hadn't harbored an irrational hatred for Zafira before this moment. In fact, she had loathed Zafira since the very moment that the other girl had walked through the door of her speaking class and had outshined Noor. Zafira was insufferably smart and oddly detached. She was Noor with longer hair and a paler complexion and a name that literally meant success. Unbearably attractive and wall-punchingly perfect.
They should've been the best of friends. They took the same classes, liked the same activities, and went to the same cafe every morning. But Zafira favored the sciences over the arts, preferred classical music to pop, and drank tea instead of milky coffee with two spoons of sugar. They were as similar as they were opposite. Perhaps they were meant to be enemies.
Zafira, for her part, hated Noor just as much as Noor hated her. So when she caught Noor's furious gaze across the room, her pink lips curled in a triumphant smile. Noor stormed through the library to Zafira and sat down in the seat next to her, expression set with grim determination. Oh she would make Zafira pay for this thievery. She would chatter antisocial Zafira's ear off if necessary. She would do whatever it took for Zafira to never come back to this library and sit in her seat during the most important meeting of the year.
Noor pulled her notebook out of her book bag with a stormy expression. She reached into the canvasy depths only to find that she had forgotten a pen. Noor closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath. How many more ways could this day go wrong? She was turning to a boy at the other table to ask if she could borrow one when a hand grasped Noor's arm. It was elegant and lovely, with calloused fingertips that were a cruel reminder of Zafira's prowess on the violin - Noor's instrument.
"You can borrow one of mine," Zafira said. She had a low voice, rough around the edges. It was unlike Noor's, which was melodic and high, made for singing soprano in the university choir. Zafira's was the kind of voice that read aloud fairy tales in hushed tones to small children when the moon was high in the sky. Noor internally smacked herself then, because, really, it was quite ridiculous to be thinking of one's enemy's voice in such a way.
"Fine," Noor snapped, taking the pen that Zafira offered her.
"No need to be rude," Zafira replied as the room quieted down and the president of the club rose from his seat at the front of the library.
"I'm so very sorry," Noor said, sarcastic. "Allow me to supplicate before you with offerings to show you just how grateful I am."
"A 'thank you' would have sufficed," Zafira sniffed. Noor simply stuck out her tongue.
This meeting of the speech and debate club was to decide once and for all who would be competing together against the other schools' teams in the upcoming competitions. Noor had teamed up with several of her friends for the tryouts. Zafira, Noor knew (for no purpose at all other than sizing up her competition, of course), had teamed up with a boy named Vincent. He was gorgeous and courteous and kind, and Noor wished the both of them a very happy future marriage after which they would undoubtedly make a number of infuriating, wonderful children who would outshine Noor's own.
The president of the club babbled on until someone shouted at him to announce the teams already. "Fine," the president said in a high, nasally tone that made Zafira snort beside Noor. As he listed off names, Noor realized, with mounting horror, that hers had not yet been called. Had she not made it onto the team? Her only consolation was that Zafira's name hadn't yet been called either. Then, at last, he said it. "Noor and," he paused, as though preparing himself for the scream that Noor would let out, "Zafira." And Noor did scream. She screamed at the top of her lungs for at least five seconds before she completely, pathetically ran out of air. Zafira seemed equally annoyed, though she was less dramatic about it. Her hands were clenched into fists, and the expression her fine features had taken on was a mask of anger. That could've just been her resting bitch face, though, Noor supposed.
"Please tell me this is a joke," Noor called out.
The president chuckled. "Nope. Sorry. You two were the best in your year." Noor let out a loud groan. A muscle in Zafira's jaw ticked. "You have three months until competitions start. Best get cracking."
Through the haze of her annoyance and disappointment, a glorious idea slowly took shape in Noor's mind. She rarely saw Zafira when they were both alone. This would be the perfect chance for the ultimate payback for Zafira's all-around perfection. When roommate sign-ups were put up, Noor signed them up together with a grin on her face.
"We're roommates now, Zafira, dear," Noor crooned as Zafira walked into the cafe the next morning.
Zafira's expression was sour. "I saw."
"No terms of endearment for me?" Noor asked, batting her lashes in mock flirtation.
"It's either 'asshole' or 'bitch,'" Zafira replied, heading for the door. "Take your pick."
"I prefer 'Your Majesty' or 'Your Highness,'" Noor called after her as the door swung shut. She saw Zafira shake her head in the distance through the glass window. Noor grinned.
---
ngl i need a brown girl to have a homoerotic rivalry with
the other chapters will be half the length of this one, since this is more like a prologue- it's for setting up the story :))
p.s. thank you beyond words to DauntlessShadowIce1 for being awesome and posting a ton of pride prompts that inspired these characters- the one shots i wrote for noor and zafira aren't in this book, but the setting and characters are (mostly) the same
CZYTASZ
Noor & Zafira
Romans[gxg] Noor hates Zafira, and Zafira hates Noor; They're content to keep it that way. But there's a fine line between hate and love, and when a speech-and-debate competition thrusts them into a world of late-night donut runs and studying to Noor's ba...
