Page 24 of The Love Match

His honey-brown eyes land on me as he hops on top of the counter, apron now discarded. Like the first time we met, he wears a shirt a size too big underneath it, splashed with so many hues that I can’t help staring. The sort of vibrant that they warn about on the nature documentaries Nanu likes to watch, although his languid smile is welcoming. No one has any business looking that attractive in such a gaudy Hawaiian-print shirt.

My tongue feels too thick to maneuver into a response, but Ximena comes to my rescue. “Oh, we were just talking about college. I think I’d like to study abroad someday.”

Dani blinks. “You would?”

“You should do it,” Nayim replies. “Nothing beats gazing up at the Eiffel Tower from the Champ de Mars, lit up with the rest of the city.”

My jaw drops. “You’ve been to Paris?”

He nods. “Didn’t realize it got so cold there, though. Sleeping on benches is much easier in Bangladesh or India than it is in Europe during wintertime.”

I gape at him, unsure what detail to pick up first. He’s been to so many places? He’s beenhomeless? I must not be alone in my curiosity, because the four of us crowd around him, a dozen questions simmering inside us.

Surprisingly, it’s Ximena who has the most to say, asking him when he went, who he went with, what he did there, how he could afford to go, while a worried Dalia wonders whether he encountered any Islamophobia in France like she’s read about.

Nayim’s eyes grow owlish at all the attention as he waves his hands in front of us. “Er, no, I went alone. I—I guess it was lovely, and might be a nice place to return with someone”—he pauses, pupils darting briefly toward me and then away—“but I had other things on my mind, trying to save up for a ticket to the States.”

Before I can figure out if I imagined his glance, or inquire why he wanted to come here so badly, Ximena emits a wistful sigh. “I want to see more of the world. Last summer, my folks took me to Hispaniola to visit my grandparents. I have family on both sides of the island, and it opened my eyes to how big the world can be.”

Dani grins. “I guess if you enjoyed yourself, my Mena withdrawal last year wasn’t in vain.”

Ximena gazes back at her, expression in somber contrast to Dani’s cheer. “There are so many beautiful places out there,Dan. I wonder sometimes if I’m wasting my life getting into debt and spending four years studying art at RISD when I could broaden my horizons more by traveling.”

“Whoa, babe.” Dani’s smile falters. “I didn’t know you felt that way.” When Ximena shrugs, her downcast face lost amid a sea of curls, Dani elbows her teasingly and jokes, “I’m invited if you run off, right? Or are you ditching me ’cause I said I’d elope with Zahra?”

Nayim’s eyes flick to me.

Flushing, I reply, “She’s kidding. These two have been dating since middle school. No one else is a match for how disgustingly cute they are.”

There’s a breath as we await his reaction. If he’s a douche about the girls, Mr. Tahir will—and should—give him the boot, but he nods.

Dani, meanwhile, objects to my words. “Hey! I’m serious. I’d love to travel. I’ve only been to Pakistan twice my entire life and want to see stuff outside Jersey too.”

Ximena brightens, but a wrinkle forms between Dalia’s brows. “What? You whined constantly when we went to see Dada and Dadi. You claimed the mosquitoes were homophobic for biting you more than me.”

“That was years ago,” Dani insists, hands on her hips. “I’m a different person now.”

Her sister sighs. “Well, that’s a problem for the future. This summer, we’ve got to arrange our schedules and dorm rooms for fall.”

“Yeah, yeah, Ammu,” Dani mutters, but perks up when Ximena pecks her cheek.

Nayim turns to me. “What about you, Zahra? What are your summer plans?”

“Oh, well, I…” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, smiling at the floor more for their sakes than my own. “Nothing much. Traveling, college… All of that sounds magical, but like Dalia said, it’s a problem for the future. I can’t really afford much of anything right now.”

Regardless of my best efforts, the inkling of melancholy in my voice saps the jovial mood from Chai Ho, and we awkwardly return to what we set out to do in the first place: shut down shop for the night. It goes a lot faster with Nayim’s help—and his height, since he can dust in high places without needing to stand on anything. Soon the door is locked behind us.

Ximena gives her girlfriend one last kiss before dashing to her car, art supplies clutched to her chest. Dani jerks a thumb at the lime-green Mini Cooper that Mr. Tahir recently bought her and Dalia so they could travel between their dorm and home. “Need a ride, Zar?”

“Nope, I’m good. I’ve kept you long enough.”

Dalia sets her hands on her hips, but before she can go full Mom Friend on me about all the potential dangers lurking in our neighborhood—flashers, drug dealers, gangbangers—Nayim says, “I can walk Zahra home.”

I latch onto his offer, bobbing my head. “Yep. So you twogo on before your parents send out a search party, okay? I’ve got Nayim and my handy-dandy pepper spray.”

Dalia’s phone going off in her Vera Bradley tote—no doubt her mother checking up on them—seals the deal. With hurried goodbyes, they vanish into the Mini Cooper, not bothering to bicker over who gets to drive this time.

I wait until their car disappears around a curb, then start marching in the direction of my house. When Nayim’s sandals crunch across an errant lollipop wrapper behind me, I stop so abruptly that he almost bumps into my back.

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