Mae

Chapter 4: Mae Kazimi

Chapter 4: Mae Kazimi

There is nothing better than going to university drunk. Nothing beats the delirious feeling as your driver leaves you at the front door and forces you to find your classes all by yourself.

Yay!

If I'm going to be forced to get a business degree by my mafia parents, then I'm going to do it high out of my mind. The goal is not to learn, it's to get the degree in my hands. That stupid piece of paper. That paper I'd have to work for four years.

I mean, it would be too suspicious if I got it in one.

I increase the volume of the music on my phone, my favourited playlist 'bollywood dance party' blaring through Spotify. I'm muttering the words under my breath, butchering the beat as I rush through the unfamiliar halls, squinting at the directions on the walls trying to make sense of what they say.

But nothing makes sense.

I look down at the map in my hands, my short black hair uncombed and eye bags under my eyes. The sweats I wear are what I found laying closest to me in my room and the shirt is the same one from yesterday.

Do I care? No.

There's a tap on my shoulder and I whirl around. It's a guy, tall, dark haired...brown...glasses...

I squint. I swear I've seen him somewhere.

He's speaking and I'm pretending to listen. He stops and I think he asked me a question. I swear under my breath as he pulls out my earphones from my ear and puts them near his.

He starts laughing.

"What?" I snatch my earphones from his hands and stop the music. "What's so funny?"

"That you're drunk and listening to bollywood dance music on your way to..."

"A business class," I smile broadly. I shove my timetable and map into his face. "I'm almost there actually."

He looks down at my paper, adjusting his button down blue shirt before he raises his eyebrows, "Uhhh...you're in the wrong building."

Ah shit.

"Oh?" I take back the map and my timetable back from him, looking through to find any hint of whether he was right. "Yeah, I know. I was...I'm here to–"

"Come on, I'll drop you off," he rolls his eyes, scratching his stubble before turning around. He begins leading me towards the way I'd just come from.

I follow him, walking quickly to catch up with him, fingers tightening on the strap of my bag, "Don't you have class?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, I just finished."

"Are you not going to ask me my name?" I force myself to walk faster as he opens the door for me and follows me outside.

He gives me a sly look, "I'm not stupid you know. I know who you are."

"Does everyone? Is that why they stared at me struggling and didn't offer to help?"

"Yeah, kinda," he shrugs. We walk down the street and towards the building across. "I'm Fayyaz."

I shoot him another side glance, "I know you from somewhere, I think."

"Our families know each other," he offers, opening the door once more and letting me through first. "I'm in my last year of politics. You know, in the building where you were roaming around half drunk and out of your mind."

I scowl as he stops in front of a room. He waits, pushing his glasses higher onto his nose and looks at me.

He's kinda...