Beyond Desire

21- Tell me another theory.

I sat beside Khalid on the plane, tapping my fingers against my lap impatiently as I stared out at the breathtaking sky. Any other day, I would've taken a picture for memory's sake, but right now, the only thing on my mind was getting home to my father.

"Lily?"

I turned to him quicker than I should have.

"Do you want anything?" He nodded toward the cart beside him as the server rolled past with snacks.

I shook my head almost immediately, a wave of nausea rising at the thought of chewing anything.

I turned back to the window, mostly to keep him from seeing my face. But Khalid, as usual, didn't get the memo. He tapped my shoulder lightly, and when I looked back, he was holding out a bottle of water, already uncapped. He had picked it out anyway.

I took the bottle quietly and drank, the cool water easing the dryness in my throat. One sip turned into another, and before I knew it, the bottle was empty. I looked down at it, a little embarrassed that I'd finished the whole thing after insisting I didn't want anything.

Without saying a word, he stretched out his hand. I gave him the bottle, our fingers brushing briefly before he capped it and tossed it neatly into the bin beside his leg.
It
He leaned back slightly, eyes still on me. "Tell me..." he said after a moment, picking my phone off my lap, "...another one of your theories."

Something about the way he said it, quiet, amused, like he already knew I'd give in, made my stomach twist in that annoying, fluttery way.

I tried to fight a smile but failed.

I gave in despite knowing he was only trying to distract me. He'd noticed, of course, how I kept refreshing my phone every few minutes, hoping the news had miraculously changed. Every time reality hit me again, my lashes would sting with unshed tears.

"I thought you were one of those overly serious, anti-internet men who think real conversations only happen offline," I teased, "while drinking black coffee and judging everyone else for having fun."

His lips twitched. "And that's changed?"

"No," I said, smirking. "I still think you're a joy killer. Just... not as efficient as before."

He chuckled quietly. "For the record, I'm not anti-internet."

"Do you have Instagram?" I challenged.

"I do," he said, reaching for his phone. "Asma installed it for me, but I never got the hang of it. I still prefer text messages."

"Who's Asma?" I asked curiously. I knew he had stepsiblings, but he'd never mentioned them.

"My sister," he replied curtly. "Here, isn't this Instagram?"

I smiled faintly, pretending not to notice his deflection. "Yeah." I scrolled through his page. it was almost empty. Just a name, a profile photo, and a few hundred followers. "You've got a ton of message requests," I said, amused.

"How many?"

"A couple hundred."

"What for?" His frown was genuine.

"People trying to be friends or something," I shrugged.

"Who goes around making friends off some app?" he asked, half to himself.

"People who are actually living in the real world," I countered. "You've been under a rock, apparently."

He smiled sideways. "Fighting grizzly bears?"

"Exactly." I laughed softly and tapped his phone. "Hang on."

I opened his camera and snapped a quick photo of him, arched brow, crooked smirk. Then I posted it on his story and handed the phone back. "There you go. Account officially active."