Her and the Basketball Champion

chapter 4

I started playing piano when I was seven.

From then on, it's been my life. I completely love it, even though there have been really bad times that I've come so close to quitting, but inside, I knew I could never and would never be able to stop.

I'm now on grade eight, and am working through it so I can take the exam and finally complete all of the grades, hopefully moving onto a diploma.

That's why I picked GCSE music and A-Level music.

At first, I didn't want to pick it for GCSE's, but my mum and dad were, I guess you could say pushy? Or more like confident and headstrong in the fact that I would pick it, so it could enhance my career of being a Musician.

Honestly, I'm so glad they made me do it because it has been my favourite subject for four years now, and I would never regret it.

I remember performing in primary school at one assembly, and I messed up so many times, but still managed to walk out feeling like I had achieved something. And I guess I had, because look where all of those mistakes and hard work has gotten me now. Although I still do make mistakes, but who doesn't?

I'm currently sitting in the Cafe alone on a Thursday afternoon, after being ditched by Lily, because she said she had a dentists appointment or something. I still decided to visit and get my infamous tea instead of going home. I liked this routine, it was calming.

So, I sit next to the window on a two seater table, with A Tale Of Two Cities in my hand as I stare at the page, annoyed at myself because I can't seem to focus on the words.

I'v probably read the same paragraph five times now, trying to grasp anything thats going on in the book. Sydney Carton is a blur in my head at the moment and I can't seem to understand why.

This never usually happens. I normally become so engrossed in a book I love that I cant even put it down. I literally have to carry it around with me everywhere, but it was just not working today.

I sigh and look up to gaze out of the window, and my eyes widen in recognition.

Jonas.

I don't think he's seen me yet because he seems so focused on his phone, but before I know it, he's looking up too and his eyes lock onto mine.

I can't seem to look away, and I'm not one to be very good at holding eye contact either.

He stops his stroll and stares for a bit longer before throwing a soft smile my way and walking off.

What just happened.

Okay well I know for one thing, that smile could make me melt, and I think I nearly did. But he probably just did it to not seem rude because I was a friend of Lilies.

Yeah thats probably it.

No need to overthink Lizzie.

Sighing, I start to get up and put my book away and jacket on so I could leave to go home. I still needed to pray my Asr.

I left the cafe, and began my walk home. The sun was out today, but the breeze was still there, making my hijab fly around in my face, blocking my eyesight.

I huffed, aggressively pulling it down and in the process pulling out one of my hijab pins. Well, there's no need for weird men to pull your hijab off when you have yourself to do the honours.

I grabbed into the top of my head and ran the rest of the way home, passing by surprised onlookers who probably thought I was going to shout Allahu Akbar and throw my bag in their direction because of how idiotic I look.

I finally arrive at home and scramble to grab the key from my bag, which luckily has nothing suspicious in, so I can unlock the door.

Stepping inside, I finally take the remaining hand off of my head and let the flowy material fall off onto the floor.

Swiping it up, I shout a quick salaam to anyone who can hear me, earning myself a response from Harris, my brother.

I glance in the living room on my way upstairs and see to no surprise, him sitting on the sofa watching his shitty youtube videos. I roll my eyes at his 'boyish' behaviour and run the rest of the way upstairs before dumping my bag on the bed.

It's so nice to be home. Especially with that sexy beast of a bed lying right in front of me.

"You're tempting me." I say to it with a grin, and start to take off my jacket and socks, rolling my sleeves up so I can make Wudhu to pray.

One think I hate is delaying my prayer. I just feel so bad.

I just can't wait to get into bed.

So I walk to the bathroom, glad it's not occupied and wash myself before returning to my favourite four walls to start praying.

Peace.

When I was around eight or nine years old, my mum went on deployment to Turkey for charity work and brought us back these big prayer scarves. The ones that cover basically your whole body which was the best thing ever. I still use it to this day.

Raising my hands up, I begin to pray and just revel in the feel of standing in front of my lord, thanking him for just being alive.

I finish and stay sitting on the prayer mat. I could fall asleep here if my bed wasn't a foot away from me, thats how calm I feel right now.

I remember going through a phase of rushing all of my prayers, just because I wanted to get them done and out of the way, but now I realise the importance of the intention behind it, and how taking your time actually brings you closer to God, and makes you want to pray for days on end.

Trust me, I'm not one to exaggerate, but that is how it feels to be content with your religion. As far as I know at least.

I slowly start to get up and jump facedown onto my bed, kicking off my bags and clothes from the morning and snuggling into my blanket.

Weirdly, the last thing I think of are those pale blue eyes.

mhm, I wonder who has pale blue eyes...