Page 46 of Because of Me

My brow creases. Another wedding? I have vague memories, but if she needs me, I’ll be there.

“None of it is too much Amira. I get that this is all new territory for you and I know that’s making everything feel really hard. But I am here, and Iwantto be a part of this. I always have.”

Amira nods a little, pressing her chin into her hands and looking up at me through her thick lashes. They clump together with the tears she’s been holding back. When she doesn’t speak, I wonder if maybe I’m starting to say the right things after all.

“Do you trust that the way I feel has nothing to do with your family?”

“Yes.” The word falls from her mouth before she has time to think about it.

“Good.” I roll my body to face hers, curling my knees under her legs and wrapping my arm around the ball she’s turned herself into. “Good,” I say again as I kiss her forehead.

She seems to relax under my touch, and for a moment we just lay, breathing together.

“Noah?” The breath from her voice tickles the soft skin of my neck.

“Yeah, Cupcake?”

“I’m sorry.”

“There should be a rule against women apologising for their feelings.” I drop my head so our foreheads are pressed together.

“I’m still sorry. I’m sure you wanted this to be an easy transition from friends to fake relationship to something more.”

“Me wanting something doesn’t mean I’m entitled to it. I’ve been mustering up the courage to do something about my feelings for years, Cupcake. Now they’re out in the open, I can wait a little longer.” I mean it, too. As much as I want Amira, I want her to be ready.

“I don’t want to make you wait. I just need you to know I’m probably going to freak out sometimes. It doesn’t mean I don’t want you. Or us.”

She wets her lips with her tongue. Before they can dry, I tilt my head to kiss her. “As long as you know that each time you freak out, I’ll be here, ready to hold your hand while you find yourself again.”

We lay in comfortable silence for a while. At one point, her phone begins to vibrate on her bedside table, but we ignore it. Speaking loudly without speaking at all, knowing that for right now, we just need to be together. Amira’s eyes drift close, and slowly she begins to unfurl herself. She stretches her legs down, tangling her feet between mine, and her hand skates underneath my arm to rest on my hip.

Beyond the door to her bedroom, we hear Ella arrive home. She potters around in the living room and the sound of all the tubs of Amira’s baked goods toppling echoes through the apartment. But still, we don’t move.

I’m almost certain Amira is asleep when she shifts under my arm.

“I want to ask you something,” she says in a whispered breath.

“Yeah?”

Moving away from me, she rolls her neck. “Will you come to my cousin’s wedding? As my real-life boyfriend?”

I nod. Of course I will. I’ll do whatever she asks.

“I would love to, Cupcake.”

AMIRA

“Are you sure this dress is okay?” I ask for the hundredth time. I wish I was exaggerating, but ever since I picked this slightly daring outfit I’ve been questioning my choices.

The long lilac sleeves sit just off my shoulder, and the front dips into a conservative, but apparent vee. I’m hardly flashing my cleavage, but it’s the most skin I’ve shown around my father since those rebellious months of my late teens. Paired with a skirt that barely grazes the tops of my knees, I’m worried a heart attack is coming. Either due to my father’s shock when he sees me, or my anxious energy giving way to full-blown panic. Both are inevitable, it’s just a matter of which ends up worse.

Noah steps behind me, and his eyes find mine in the mirror. He reaches one hand over my arm to trace the neckline of my dress with his fingertips. “It’s more than okay, Cupcake, but if you’re not comfortable we have time for you to get changed.”

“No, we don’t!” Ella screeches through the open door to our room, skidding to a halt by grabbing the frame. “The ceremony starts attwo!”

“I thought it started at two-thirty?” Although, neither of us has seen an invite. We’re relying on the passed down information from our mothers.

“Ma definitely said two—”

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