Coming Home (English Version)

24. Burpees

Layla

"Come on, Layla! You need to pick up that pace!" Fouad barks at me.

I hate him, I hate him with a passion. I don't know what I was thinking when I hired him. I swear my heart will jump out of my chest at any moment, the sweat trickles down my neck and my legs could not move any faster. How do the other girls do it? Even Reem does better than me and it sucks to be the obvious weak link on the team. Maybe I should quit, give the girls the chance to bring someone else onboard, someone that doesn't throw up in the middle of every training session. Hey... I haven't thrown up. Yet. Please God, let this be the first day I don't throw up, I hate that even more than I hate Fouad.

He comes and stands by my treadmill, staring intensely at the stopwatch on his hand. "Stop!" He yells. "Drop down and give me ten burpees!"

No! Not the burpees. Who could have invented such a horrible exercise like the burpees? I can't even do one whole push up correctly. Maitha and Amy could probably do a hundred of them with me sitting on their backs, they're like crossfit pros and have been training together for years. Nada is a lot more slim but she's fast like a gazelle and as flexible as rubber. And then, there's Reem and I, nothing stands out of our physical capabilities. This reminds me of P. E. class at school; I would go out of my way to not do anything the teachers told us to and coincidentally I would get headaches all the time during that class. Meanwhile, the rest of the girls seemed to have the time of their lives running around and playing volleyball. I never got it. I still don't.

"On your backs! Twenty bicycle crunches!" Our trainer commands.

Why am I doing this? Oh, that's right. Hamdan. I should simply marry him and put an end to this nonsense. I mean, he already asked. Well, it wasn't even a question but it still cut my breath short. Could I ever say yes to him? It's just that there's nothing really wrong with him, is everything else that bothers me; the opinion of the family, the shock, the big wedding, being the wife of the future Emir, the children we would be expected to have. I feel like throwing up and the workout has little to do with it.

By the end of our session, I'm laying down on the floor, completely drenched in sweat and unable to breathe. Fouad squats down next to me to ask how I am feeling.

"I can see the light." I joke while staring at the ceiling. "I can see my parents, they're waving at me, telling me to go join them."

He chuckles and throws a towel to my face. "Shut up."

Somehow, I manage to sit up and grab my water bottle.

"Listen," Fouad tells me. "I wanted to ask you something."

I nod while sipping on my water.

"Do you happen to have any special access to the NAS Complex?"

I cough with my mouth shut, trying to not spit out the water. "What?"

"Yeah, because of Sheikh Hamdan. I figured you might be able to get us in there, I mean, have you seen the place?" He wonders. "Cristiano Ronaldo could train there!"

"You want me to ask Hamdan to let us train at NAS?" I ask to clarify.

"Yeah," He nods. "Only if you want to."

Why does everything lead back to Hamdan? Everywhere I go someone mentions him and it makes me miss him even more. And is not that I don't want to ask him, I know he won't say no to me, but I also know for a fact that he will casually stop by during one of our training sessions, he's so easy to read sometimes, and I would rather die before he witnesses my attempts at working out. He will love it, he will have a blast and I will feel embarrassed.