A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 18

Nabeel's POV

"Soooo we're playing Truth or Dare. Care to join us?" Asma's friend drawled. She let out a small giggle and bounced over to the middle of the circle that had begun to form. Asma shifted away from me and towards the rest of her girl friends, but Regina George (I decided to nickname her that, as she was clearly the leader of the clique) cleared a space for me to sit next to Asma. I walked past it, but her death glare scared me to the point where I reluctantly agreed.

"Criss cross, apple sauce," Regina said, clearly high on the Hookah or Vape, although I wouldn't put it past these people to sneak in alcohol.

"So, my first truth or dare goes tooooo... Narbil," she said, with the most atrocious pronunciation of my  name. "Pick."

"Urm, dare?" I said hesitantly. Looking at the type of girls that were here, I didn't want to be questioned about my first time which I hadn't had, or how old I was when I had my first kiss, because I hadn't had it. I firmly believed that all displays of affection, both in public or private, should be reserved for after marriage.

"Ooh, this is about to get sauuuccyyy," she giggled. That high pitched laugh made me want to strangle her and twist her vocal cords. "Narbil, kiss Asma."

Oh no!
No!
No!

She did NOT just say that! I couldn't do that. Asma looked at me and shook her head. "I'll pass," I said.

"Oh no you can't. If you do, then we force you to do it followed by a swig of the codeine. You don't wanna go home high to mama do you?"

I pressed my lips firmly together. I would not want to do that. Or this. Asma looked at me again. She nodded slowly, hesitantly. I knew from that that the same punishment would be doled out for her. We were going to do this, whether we liked it or not.

I strolled over to her, making sure to add a little bounce to my step and swag to my demeanor. I remembered that this was the impression that would get me through high school. "Of course, girl. I wouldn't pass up an opportunity like this," I said confidently.

Before I planted a kiss on her lips, I moved my mouth towards her ear and whispered an apology softly. I knew she understood. But amidst the casual breeze that the moment carried, I knew that this moment had robbed me of my honesty and her of her dignity. We had, ultimately, lost a lot of what we cherished.

Soft. Tender. Life-changing.

That's how I describe my first kiss. The last word also describes my first house party.

After that, Asma and I were always on the look out for each other at these parties. Soon we exchanged numbers and used to chat late into the night. Then, she told me to meet up with her one day at the mall. Of course, she wore an abaya and hijab and I wore a kurta. No one suspected anything. We looked like your typical, young, married couple.

Our relationship became stronger and more beautiful. Asma was a loyal girlfriend and our 'love' for each other gave us loads of street credit. Being an Indian in a society where the hierarchy system was in full force, street credit was most important.

That was until I was caught kissing another girl at a party. Asma and I broke up. The girl I had kissed never texted me back, and I became just another one of those boys who played girls, dumped them and made their Instagram feed look like a stream of happiness, when inside I was dying.

One day something changed in me and I decided to do a Madrassah course and start doing Hifz, but my past still haunted me like a shadow that I could not get rid of, even in the dark.