Other Side

24 | Art of Attraction

"We're never gonna sleep, are we?"

After parting ways and freshening up, Talia and Zaid reassembled in the kitchen, each armed with an empty glass. After fighting over who should use the water pitcher first and then bonking heads on the way down to wipe away a puddle left on the floor, they stood face to face, bloodshot gaze to bloodshot gaze.

"I was half asleep until I saw you," he joked, fingertips pressed into the center of his forehead. "You're like the opposite of a soporific—whatever that would be called."

"Hey, don't ask me; I haven't taken science since AP Chemistry." Wincing at the pain in her temple, she threw in, "Got a five on that exam, at least."

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about. I attended an IB school, sadly."

"Oh, bless your soul. Was all that work even worth it?"

"Absolutely not. After three years of nonstop physics and math, I can't even remember the topic of my extended essay."

"You know, I'm supposed to submit the proposal for my senior honors thesis by the end of this semester, but I haven't even begun to think of an idea." They threw themselves down to rest in the living room—she on the long couch and he on her grandfather's favorite armchair—and each released a burdened sigh. "Maybe I can come up with a new theorem to mathematically explain the perfect long-distance relationship."

The comment came out with a goofy grin, but she noticed the way his shoulders tensed, corners of his lips dropping ever so slightly. Regret washed over her, even if she'd meant what she'd said in jest.

Or had she...?

"Well, I'll be here if you ever need to bounce some ideas off me," he said, picking up the TV remote before grimacing. "Is Friends really the best option we have?"

"What's wrong with Friends?"

"Nothing," he said, "if you have no taste."

Eyebrows raised, she reluctantly shrugged. "Won't lie, you need about one or two drinks to even crack a smile at the forced one-liners." She glanced at the TV, where the friends had assembled in Monica's apartment. "At least Joey is nice to look at."

"Him? What the hell do you see in that clown?"

"Uh, wit, charm, total lack of common sense?"

A small puff of air escaped his nose before the channel flipped to CNN, where the chyron displayed breaking news that was anything but breaking. She held in her laughter at the sour look on Zaid's face, until he eventually broke and released a chuckle himself.

"You any more tired now?" he asked.

A curly strand of black hair fell over his forehead, just licking his eye, but he didn't bother wiping it away. She wished he knew that just like what her post-shower wild curls did to his wandering eye, she found nothing more attractive than his disheveled natural hair, begging her to run her fingers through each loose ringlet.

"No," she said, curling up on her side. "I can think of one way I could be, though."

"How?"

"If you read me a couple more of your weird poems. I am about seven qafs away from a comatose sleep."

He let out a bellowing laugh, some warmth returning to those hazel-brown eyes. "As much as I enjoy letting you partake in some of my interests, I can't help but feel like these moments together are so one-sided. There has to be a talent on your end to share—preferably with the same pleasantly somniferous effects of ancient Arabic poetry."