Other Side

09 | The Last Word

As the minutes rolled by and an hour became two, Talia and Zaid showed no signs of beating the temptation to linger. They'd started by ordering a few extra bowls for the table, at one point deciding their stomachs were full. Then, the same entrée had caught their attention, and two plates had turned into coffee and dessert.

The small cups of Turkish coffee acted more like alcohol, steering the conversation in a less PG direction. They playfully eyed each other as they brought their lips to the rim of their cups, some hint of a smile playing on both.

"Do you regret your first kiss?" he asked after taking a small sip. Noticing her wide eyes, he added through a smile, "You can pass on this one if I'm overstepping."

She chuckled, not having thought of that moment in years. "Truth be told, no, because it was so rushed and so sloppy and at such a cliché event—prom of all things—that it made every kiss after it seem glorious. Maybe if it had been good, I'd have said yes."

"That's...a unique answer." He looked down at the single piece of baklava left on the shared plate and pushed it towards her. Talia held up both hands, as the mere thought of putting another bite of food inside her mouth, let alone dessert, threatened to send her dinner back up her throat. "Alright, this piece is mine, then."

She watched him eat it carefully and savor every walnut-filled layer. His tongue darted out to catch the small flake stuck to his lower lip, moving even more languidly with the eyes that trailed up her face. She gripped the edge of her seat under the table, willing herself not to be so affected by his subtle moves, but perhaps they were an invitation of sort.

"I have a question," she said, announcing it for the first time. He put down the remaining bite of baklava, as if it wouldn't have fit in his mouth with the one previous. When his eyes met hers again, she somehow had the courage to ask. "Are you...a virgin?"

A small puff of air escaped his nose first, following by a half-snort-half-laugh. He tempered himself with another sip of hot coffee before setting down the cup with a plink.

"Do I appear prudish?"

"No," Talia said, "but the two aren't mutually exclusive."

"Is this you admitting to something?"

She shook her head. "No, once again. But by this point, I'm just gonna assume you are."

"No," he breathed. He repeated it, with more conviction this time. "But even if I was, I still would've told you the truth."

"A man of morals," she joked, earning herself a pointed glare. She let them enjoy the silence for a few moments before speaking up again. "Well...are you going to turn the tables and ask already?"

He smiled and popped in the last lonely piece of baklava. "Your sex life is none of my business, Talia," he said and paused before finishing, "unless, of course, I was a part of it."

She blinked and took in his reply, so calculated yet offhand at the same time. The sight of her blushing cheeks only enlarged the smirk on his lips, visible even in the dim lighting of the restaurant.

She took the last sip of coffee, fanning her hands around the cup to conceal her tomato-red face. "I don't know. I'd hate to get attached and then... And then remember we only have two weeks left of this."

"Less actually," he corrected, hitting where it hurt. "But a lot can happen in eleven days, Talia."

"You've been counting?"

"No. Salma just guilts me with the fleeting nature of your trip every time I'm rude to you."

"God, I always knew Teta was a real one." She also knew there was some sort of scheme brewing on her grandmother's end, as she'd ushered them out the house earlier without specifying a time by which they had to be home. Not that they weren't old enough to get by without a curfew, but Talia was still reasonably suspicious. "Do you think it's time for us to go back home?"