Confessions of a Muslim Girl

Chapter 14 - Mysterious Mr. Cute Private School Guy

I'm at the brink of a breakdown, which is SO not good because I'm usually such a stress-free person (allhumdulillah). Next upload probably won't be until Saturday morning on November 12. Read on. Wait! Ok, so i just want to say THANK YOU to SSrockon for the beautiful cover. I love it so much - she did a really great job mashallah! (:

"God, I am such a girl. I need to get a grip." -- Maysa Malik, Confessions of a Muslim Girl

Chapter 14

Mysterious Mr. Cute Private School Guy

☼ Maysa Malik ☼

            I tap the end of my pencil on the table to the rhythm of my racing heart. Thick silence wraps around me as I sit alone at a table in the library. I look down at my watch. He’s three minutes late. I look up when I see a flurry of motion out of the corner of my eye. Farah is trying to get my attention without making a sound.

            She looks ridiculous as she flails her arms around. When she sees me looking at her, she points to her phone. I take my own out of my pocket and sure enough, there is an indication that I have a new text message.

Text the mysterious Arman Rehmani and see where he is, stupid! >:o

            I roll my eyes and don’t even bother sending a text in response. Instead I look up at Farah and grumble underneath my breath. “I’ll give him five more minutes!” I whisper. She rolls her eyes and reluctantly nods, turning her attention back to the fashion design books she has been looking at.

            I glance at my watch for what seems like the twentieth time since I got here ten minutes ago. Eight minutes, he’s eight minutes late. I feel suspicion set into me as I wonder whether or not Arman will show up at all.

            The library is for the most part empty. Tall bookshelves surround me on both sides, filled with pages and pages bound together that allow discovery and knowledge to be at the fingertips of the curious.

            Farah comes and sits next to me with five books in her hands. They are mostly about fashion design. I smile. Farah has always loved to make her own clothes, and she finds joy in modifying popular styles into Islamically-acceptable clothing.

            “Find anything good?” I ask.

            Farah answers, “You know that one pure white tank dress that I was telling you about? It was mid-thigh, pure white, and the straps were about an inch thick. I was thinking, instead of wearing just a plain-old, solid color tee-shirt underneath it, why not make a print bolero jacket?” She looks excited about it.

            I look at her, not quite understanding what she means. “Ok, ‘print bolero’? What’s that?”

            Farah sighs good-naturedly. “It’s a jacket that only covers till my ribs. I could make a floral-print one and I can make it three-quarters sleeved. What do you think? And I could put oversized golden buttons on it. If only I made it a pale pink…”

            I laugh. “It sounds really cute, Far. Are you making this for some special event?”

            Farah shakes her head. “I just need a project to keep me busy.”