Professor, Professor || BWAM

the forty-forth

— ADEOLA —

His keys practically fell out of his hands as he frantically shuffled through them to find the right one.

I'm surprised they're not all color-coded and labeled.

"Sorry, my hands are a little slippery."

And shaky.

 "Come, let me get you into some dry clothes."

He guides me to his room by my hand as if I hadn't been to his place several times before.

As I watch him shuffle through his closet, I look around his room and notice immediately that his bed is unmade and his running shoes are carelessly strewn across the floor. Very uncharacteristic of Kazem.

He pulls out an oversized tee and sweatpants, neatly folded in a stack and hands it to me.

I immediately noticed that his place was a mess. Not really a mess for the average person, but for Kazem it was atrocious.

A box of half-eaten takeout and a bottle of water with no cap sat on the counter.

Kazem's eyes trailed to where my gaze had fallen and he started to redden, "You'll have to excuse my room, I wasn't expecting company." he mumbles.

–ZAAIN–

My chest clenched with anxiety and shame. As she changed in the bathroom, I immediately lunged to the mess I had carelessly left out and tossed it into the trash.

Suddenly, I feel Adeola's warm hand against my back, "Have you been feeling okay?"

I'm mortified but at the same time feel a sort of relief at the question. It implies that she knows that this isn't my typical state, that something must be amiss. She knows me so well, in a way that no one else does. She sees through me to my core instead of just on the surface like most people and even when I tried to push her away, she would always boomerang back. I love that about her.

"Zaain?" she coos softly.

Zaain, Zaain. Oh! The way she breathes my name! Every time I hear it from her it makes me feel as if there were a garden of flowers blooming inside of my chest. How I've missed my name on her lips...

"I'm fine." I reply without turning to face her. I can't face her just yet.

"I don't think that's true. We can talk about it, it's okay." Her hand glides down my back then ascends again. She's caressing me, comforting me, "You know, you can trust me, right?"

"Adeola, it's not a trust issue," for once in my life, "I just...I'm ashamed. I've never declared my affection so brashly. And a part of me feels like this shouldn't be, like it's wrong."

"Wrong?"

I turn to steal a glance at her irresistible eyes but then almost immediately turn back, "Everytime I lay my eyes on you I feel that I must ask Allah for forgiveness."

She's silent for a beat and retreats her hand, "You speak of me as if I'm some sort of temptress. When all I've ever done was try to be closer to you, to understand you so that you know that not everyone wants to take advantage of you..." her tone lowered, "I know what it feels like to be taken advantage of."

I finally turn to her and there are puddles brimming in her eyes.

She continues, "I admit that at first I may have had some more deviant intentions because of what others whispered in my ear about you. But, after getting to know you and seeing you with my eyes, ears and heart... I feel like such a fool for having listened to the rumors."