MELODY (Book 1) ✓

Chapter 15 pt.2 (Akram)

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There was a long moment of silence.

Even though I was avoiding looking at him out of embarrassment, and slight emotional confusion,  I noticed the book in his hand. It was hard for me to see a book anywhere without reading the title. Especially a book that he held.

He has a real name now, silly. He's Akram!

((The Making Of A Concert Grand.))

" Interesting book?" I pointed out with a motion of my chin. It was about pianos which was really intriguing. Who didn't love piano?

"Ah! Yes! It's for school. I'm in Juilliard. "

"Oh, That's nice!"

"Yeah! Music is my life."

" What's your major?"

"Piano, obviously, " he chuckled. The sound was refreshing. " I'm planning to take jazz next. I work at the jazz club nearby." He motioned with his hand then ran his fingers through his hair. It was short and neat at the sides, a little longer strands in the front. His hair was dark gleaming brown, soft and thick and ruffled by his fingers and the gentle wind.

" You're a Juilliard student and you have to work?" I asked.

Everybody knew that Juilliard was like the most expensive and distinguished art school in the country if not in the world. It's either he'd won a prodigious scholarship for his extraordinary talent or he was talented and rich at the same time. Which was impressive either way.

" Uh! I don't have to work but I want to. I prefer to know that I can support myself," His eyebrows pulled down a little. " plus, it's a good practice."

"Sorry. What's your name again?" I urged him to say it again with his soft spoken tone.

"Akram." He repeated, his smile wide, drawing cute lines at the sides of his face.

The way he pronounced his name was so unique. He had no particular accent when he spoke but he rolled the letter R while he enunciated his name in quite an exotic way.

"Unusual name." I noted.

He chuckled. "It's Arabic. I consider myself three quarters Egyptian. "

"Wow! But you don't look Arabian." I blurted out. My comment sounded ridiculously thoughtless once it came out of my lips.

"And... how do Arabian look like?" He suddenly seemed cautious as he narrowed his eyes, his voice guarded.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend. I just didn't expect... You don't have..." I waved my hand around my chin.

"Oh! Actually, the bushy beard is optional. So is the big gun. or the sword. or the camel. Depends on which channel you prefer watching ." he joked but his smile was tight and unbelievably charming.

My cheeks must have turned crimson red, feeling that I was unintentionally rude. "I really didn't mean that... I don't have many friends here so I'm mostly in the dark, social-wise."

"You're not from here?" His expression softened again.

"No. I mean... yes I was born here but it's just, uh... difficult to get along with people." That half truth would do. He was my customer and my stalking subject but still a stranger any way. I didn't have to tell him everything about me.

"I totally understand." he smiled compassionately. "I'm basically in New York just to study and work. No friends either."

"Have you been living in Egypt before that?" I was curious about ancient Egyptian history since I was in school so the topic was fascinating to me.