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Chapter 11

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We spoke! Oh my God! We spoke!

I stumbled up the street towards my apartment, praying my legs wouldn’t give out on me. My head was spinning, my heart was racing, my lip was sweating and there was a hot, prickly feeling making its way up the back of my neck. I felt like I was going to faint. I sat down on the curb outside my building and put my head between my knees, willing myself to calm down as my mind went over the details of what had just happened.

Relax, Mack … relax! Get a grip on yourself!

But I couldn’t relax. I was a mess. A quivering, sweating, hopelessly romantic mess. The Arab boy and I finally spoke. Actually, we did more than speak: we touched. Well, he touched me. Oh my God, just thinking about it was making my stomach do flip-flops!

It all started out so normal. I walked into his store, picked out my usual pack of gum, and took it up to the counter to pay. I could feel those brown eyes of his studying me as I fished around in my purse for some money.

Wouldn’t you know it, I couldn’t find any! Between my new daily habits of coffee and gum I was practically penniless. Note to self: ask Dad for raise in allowance. I stood there like an idiot, burrowing furiously in my pockets for change while my face turned red with mortification.

After a few more seconds, I found some shekels at the bottom of my back pocket and sprinkled them on the counter in front of him. I waited for him to take them and put them in his cash register — but he didn’t. I pushed the coins closer towards him and cleared my throat.

We did this routine every daywhat was he doing?

I racked my brain to think of something clever to say when suddenly he glanced around to see if anyone was watching, then leaned over the counter towards me.

“I see you in here a lot. You buy a lot of gum.”

My heart skipped in my chest. His voice was deep and smooth and, although he spoke with an accent, his English was perfect. Just like I’d imagined it would be.

“Um, well — it’s sugar-free, so my dentist doesn’t mind,” I stammered stupidly.

Great, Mack! Why don’t you tell him about your last fluoride treatment while you’re at it?

He didn’t say anything; he just stared at me. Damn it! He must think I’m an idiot.

“Um, my name’s Mackenzie,” I said to ease the silence.

“Mack-en-zie,” he repeated. The way he said it sounded more like “Muck and Zee,” but I didn’t dare correct him. It was kind of cute.

“Nice to meet you, Muck-and-zee,” he said, flashing a smile of beautiful white teeth. “I’m Nasir. Nasir Hadad.”

“Hi,” I said shyly, willing my face not to blush a second time.

“Do you live in the neighbourhood?”

“Yeah, in the apartment around the corner. How did you know?”

Now it was his turn to look embarrassed.

“I — I just see you in here so much,” he stammered.

“Yeah, well, we just moved here from Canada.”

His eyes lit up. “Ah! Canada — I have a cousin going to school near there!”

“Oh really?” I laughed. Did everyone in this country have a cousin in Canada?

“He goes to university in a big city where the winters are very cold,” Nasir continued. “He’s been there two years now.”

“Is it York University in Toronto? Because my dad’s a professor there. Maybe he knows him.”

I was eager to find something in common with him. I’d always heard that couples who were destined to be together could find strings of coincidences linking their lives to each other.

Nasir smiled and shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it.”

Damn it! So much for destiny!

“Ziyad’s school is in Massa … uh, Massa …”

“Mississauga?”

“No, Massa … Massa-twoshits.”

I giggled. “You mean Massa chusetts?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. His school is called MIT — it’s a very difficult school. Ziyad is very smart. You said your father’s a professor? He must be a very smart man, too.”

“Yes, very smart,” I agreed, unsure what to say next. I didn’t want to talk about Dad. And I didn’t want to embarrass Nasir by telling him that Massachusetts was like, a ten-hour drive from where I lived. I cleared my throat again and hoped I would come up with something funny that would make him laugh and realize how witty and friendly I was. But my mind drew a blank. So instead I flipped my hair off my shoulder and tried to pose prettily like I’d seen Hailey and Steffi do so many times. It felt kind of awkward, but I hoped it looked good. It always seemed to work for other girls.

Nasir leaned forward a little more until we stood so close, I could hear his breathing over the hum of the ceiling fan. He smelled nice — like fresh laundry and toothpaste. For a split second I thought for sure he was going to kiss me. I hesitated while my brain toyed with the possibility.

Is this too early for kissing? Should I let him or should I push him away? What would Hailey Winthrop do in this situation?

I knew the answer even before I finished forming the thought. She’d kiss him.

I closed my eyes, opened my lips, and waited. But then he spoke instead.

“Is your skin real?” he whispered. “Can I touch it?

My eyes flew open. Was he joking? I was used to people teasing me about my skin, not asking to touch it. I smiled and waited another second for him to laugh — but he didn’t. He was serious.

“Um, okay.” I nodded slightly and held out my arm. But instead, he reached for my cheek. I gasped softly as his fingertips connected with my skin. I know it sounds totally cheesy, but the best word I can use to describe how it felt is electric.

His hand lingered there. I could feel his fingers trembling as they rested on my face. I wanted to tell him that it was all right. That he didn’t have to be nervous. That he could keep them there for as long as he wanted. But I’d lost my voice. And I’d lost my senses, too.

Suddenly, the door opened and a customer walked into the store. Nasir tore his hand away, scooped up the shekels on the counter, and practically hurled them into the cash register. He looked so guilty, like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

“You’d better go!” he whispered, pushing the package of gum towards me.

I felt guilty, too, even though I wasn’t exactly sure why. I nodded, turned on my heels, and fled out the door, up the street, and to the steps of my apartment. My cheek was still tingling on the spot where he’d touched me. I couldn’t get his face out of my head.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!

Slowly, I lifted my head up from my knees and took a long, deep breath. I thought about the return ticket I still had tucked away in my room upstairs. The three-month mark of our move to Israel was just two days away.

And then I thought about those incredible brown eyes. And the feel of his fingers on my face.

Okay … so maybe I’ll hang around this country a little bit longer.

Deborah Kerbel's YA Fiction 3-Book Bundle

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