Chapter Nine

ZAIN/MALIK POV

After class is over, she walks next to me as I lead her toward the parking lot. I can tell by the grip she has on her backpack and the way she keeps looking behind her that she's about to back out. When she pauses, turning toward me on the pavement, I don't even give her the chance to speak.

"It's lunchtime, Najwa. You need to eat. I'm taking you for pizza. Quit trying to make it more than it is, okay?"

Her eyes widen in shock that I knew exactly what she was thinking. She presses her lips together and nods.

"It's lunch," she says with a shrug, casually trying to convince herself that this is perfectly okay. "I eat lunch. You eat lunch. What's the big deal if we eat lunch at the same time? At the same restaurant?"

"Exactly," I say.

There are smiles on both of our faces, but the fear in our eyes speaks volumes.

We're crossing a line, and we both know it.

When we reach my car, I naturally start toward her door to open it for her, but change my mind and go straight to the driver's side instead. The less I treat her like my date, the less it'll feel like a date. I don't want to make her more nervous about our "casual lunch" than she already is. The truth is, I'm nervous enough for the both of us. I don't know what the hell I think I'm doing, but whenever I'm around her, all I can think about is how much more I want to be around her.

We both shut our doors and I crank the car, then pull out of the parking lot. Pulling away from the college with her alone in my car feels almost like playing a game of Russian roulette. My pulse is racing and my mouth runs dry, knowing my being with her is potential career suicide. Not to mention what would happen if Mike found out.

I wipe him from my mind and look over at her, deciding that if this may very well be my last day on Earth, I'm going to focus on her and enjoy the hell out of it.

"I have a confession," she says, looking at me, embarrassed. "What is it?"

She clicks her seatbelt into place and folds her hands in her lap. "I don't have any money."

I want to laugh at her confession, but in all honesty, it makes me sad for her. "My treat," I say, because it would have been, regardless. "But if I hadn't taken you to lunch today, how would you have eaten?"

She shrugs. "I usually don't eat lunch. Lunch costs money, and money is something I don't have in abundance right now. I'm saving up for something more important."

She glances out the window, a clear sign that she doesn't have intentions of elaborating on what it is she's saving up for. I don't push it. But I do push for an answer as to why she doesn't have money to eat on.

"Why don't you just ask Mike for money? He's got it. I bet if he knew you weren't eating lunch, he'd make sure you had some."

She shakes her head. "I don't want his dirty money," she spits out. "I'd rather starve."

I don't respond. I don't want to remind her of the fact that she's under the impression that I'm working for Mike, so I'll be paying for our lunch with that same dirty money. Instead, I change the conversation to a lighter subject.

"Tell me about your brother," I say as I steer the car in the direction of the freeway.

"My brother?" she asks, questioning me. "Which one?"

"The one with Asperger's? I don't know a lot about it. I had a neighbor kid back in Sacramento who had it. I didn't know it was something you could overcome, but you said your brother had it...like as in past tense."

Her eyes drop to her lap and she laces her fingers together. "It's not something you can overcome," she says quietly.

But she referred to it in the past tense. Or...I guess she referred to him in the past tense. I'm an insensitive dumbass. Why the hell did I bring it up?

"I'm sorry." I reach over and give her hand a quick squeeze. "I'm really sorry," I repeat.

She pulls her hand back to her lap and clears her throat. "It's fine," she says, forcing a smile. "It was a long time ago. Asperger's wasn't the only thing he dealt with, unfortunately."

And on that note, we reach the restaurant. I pull into a parking spot and turn off the car. Neither of us moves. I think she's waiting on me to get out of the car, but I feel like I just ruined her good mood.

"I officially sucked the fun out of that drive," I say. "Got any remedies?"

She laughs lightheartedly and grins. "We could take the writing game to another level," she says. "Try to lighten the mood a little bit. Instead of writing random things without thinking, we could just spend lunch saying random things without thinking."

I nod and gesture toward the restaurant in front of us. "After you," I say. "Walrus tusks cloud my vision like chocolate pudding."

She laughs and opens her door. "One-legged tiger sharks are better for you than vegetables."

***

MIKE POV

"Jon!"

I'm gripping my phone so tight, I wouldn't be surprised if it crumpled in my hand. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, calming myself, attempting to give her the benefit of the doubt before I completely flip out.

"Jon!"

I finally hear his footsteps bounding up the stairs. My door swings open and he walks into the room. "What the hell is it? I was taking a shit."

I look down at the GPS report on my phone. "What's at 1262 Ricker Road?"

He looks up at the ceiling, drumming his fingers against the doorframe. "Ricker Road," he repeats to himself. "Mostly just restaurants, I think." He looks down at his phone and types in the address. "Why? We got a delivery?"

I shake my head. "Nope. Najwa's on Ricker Road."

Jon cocks his head. "Did your car break down? She need a ride somewhere?"

I roll my eyes. "She doesn't need a fucking ride, dumbass. She's on Ricker Road when she should be on campus. I want to know what the fuck she's doing there and who the fuck she's with."

Realization finally dawns on his face. "Oh, shit. You want to go check it out?" He scrolls through his phone some more. "Looks like Italian. Something called Mi Amore."

I toss my phone across the mattress and stand up, pacing the room. "No," I say. "It's half an hour away. Forty-five minutes with traffic. She'll be gone before we even get there." I take a deep breath and grip the bridge of my nose between my fingertips, willing myself to remain calm.

If she's fucking around, I'll find out. And if I find out, she's fucking dead. The bastard she's fucking around with won't be as lucky.

"I'll figure it out," I say to Jon. "Tonight."