Unexpected love

CHAPTER 3

"I have nothing to wear," I groan, rummaging through my closet. Gemma is at my house we decided to get ready together, hoping it would calm my nerves.

"You'll look good in anything," she says, eyeing the chaos of clothes scattered around me. "What about those jeans with that top? I know you're not a fan of showing your legs."

I roll my eyes, but she's right. I thought the dress I picked would be cute it's the perfect length, just enough to be flattering but it still shows more leg than I'm comfortable with. So, I settle on my favorite baggy jeans and an off-the-shoulder, neutral-toned top.

Meanwhile, Gemma is already dressed to perfection. She has this effortless style that makes her look like she stepped right off a Pinterest board. From her perfectly accessorized jewelry to her pristine sneakers, she exudes confidence and beauty. Her tight, curly hair frames her face, and she has this natural, curvy figure that fits her outfits perfectly. At 5 feet, she's shorter than me, but she has a presence that always stands out.

"How are you and Omar?" I ask as I finish picking my outfit.

"We're good," she replies, a little too quickly, her gaze shifting. "He's just busy, so we don't talk much."

I sense there's more she isn't saying, but I don't push it. Gemma's the kind of person who only opens up when she's ready. Before I can respond, I hear a chime from my phone it's Fahad, letting me know he's ten minutes away. The man is always so punctual.

"Do you know where we're going?" I ask Gemma, trying to mask my excitement.

"Yes! I found a halal Texas BBQ spot online and sent it to Omar last night. But I think Fahad has something planned afterward too," she says, her expression unreadable as she shrugs.

I finish applying the last touches of my makeup, giving my curls a final spritz, when Gemma calls out, "They're here!" My heart races as I hear a knock at the door. My mom, brother, and sister all left for the day, so I know it's them.

Opening the door, I'm greeted by Fahad, who stands there with a warm smile and a small gift in his hand. He hands it to me, and I carefully unwrap it, revealing the delicate bakhoor burner. Its intricate, golden design and Arabic script catch the light, and I can't help but smile.

"You didn't have to do this," I say softly, touched by the thoughtful gesture.

"I wanted to," he replies, his eyes warm and kind.

"But this is yours," I say, surprised, looking down at the bakhoor burner. Along with it, he's included a small selection of fragrant scents, each wrapped carefully.

He smiles. "I know. But you like it, and I can always get another one when I go home," he says, his voice warm and reassuring. I nod, tucking it away with a grateful smile.

We head out to the car where Omar and Gemma are already waiting, and soon we're on our way. The Texas BBQ spot is bustling with life, and as soon as we step out of the car, the smoky aroma of grilled meat fills the air. The restaurant is massive, styled like an old ranch with rustic wooden beams and long communal tables. It feels authentically Texan, from the line dancers warming up to the live band playing country music near the back.

Fahad takes it all in, glancing around with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of awe and curiosity. I can tell he's trying to absorb every detail, and I smile to myself, enjoying the way he seems both intrigued and slightly overwhelmed.

"This place is huge," he says, his accent lending a unique lilt to his words. "I've only been here a few months Texas is...different."

"It's an experience," I laugh, feeling a bit like a tour guide.