Page 126 of Curvy Girl Summer

“Aaliyah,” he called after me.

I didn’t look back.

I left the room just as the nurse asked, “Everything okay?”

No. Everything is not okay.

I couldn’t put my finger on what I was feeling as I made my way to my car. But a series of emotions rippled through me, and all of them combined felt incredibly heavy. Like a weight was pressing down on me, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I didn’t know if it was fear, anxiety, tension, relief, desire, or regret. But in my myriad of feelings, guilt and disappointment seemed to level me.

I was disappointed in myself. I didn’t once think about how triggering it would be for people to assume I was his wife. I didn’t consider how he might have felt with my showing up at the hospital. I didn’t correct the doctor when I was presumed to be his wife. But most of all, I felt guilty for how my mind, body, and soul continued to react to him. No matter how hard I tried, I was having difficulty shutting out my intrusive thoughts.

I had a tiny, insignificant crush on Ahmad because he was a genuinely good man. It was harmless because he wasn’t ready to date. He still wore the ring his deceased ex-fiancée gave to him.

And yes, Ahmad and I had fleeting moments and that one almost-kiss. But he was not interested in me in any way. He actively helped me pursue other men. He gave me advice and encouraged me to not give up dating. He never made a slick comment to me or did anything that would make me think he didn’t see me as just a friend.

And that’s why the crush felt safe, insignificant, and a nonissue.

So, the fact that I felt something more disrupted my soul.

Thinking that something happened to him ripped something wide open. Because I had every excuse in the world to deny myfeelings. I ignored my attraction to him. I disregarded the feelings he brought out in me. I wrote off the way we connected and shared with each other. I overlooked the way he cared for me. And I completely omitted the fact that I’d fantasized about him. But as my heart pounded in my chest, the truth was nagging me.

“Nina was fucking right,” I muttered as I pulled out of the parking deck and headed to the emergency room entrance.

Now that I was cognizant of my not-so-innocent crush, I wasn’t sure if it was possible to ignore it. He saw me and liked me for me, so of course I considered him a friend. And the fact that he was not in a dating headspace solidified the friendship as just that—friendship. I respected him too much to make him uncomfortable with my feelings. All I wanted was to go back in denial. Because if I couldn’t, I would have to end the friendship. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t know if I had a choice. It all boiled down to respect.

But the minute I spotted him, all that confusion and conflict melted away.

He was my friend, and he was a good friend. I didn’t want to end the friendship, and he didn’t deserve for me to just drop the friendship like that.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.I repeated the phrase internally until I pulled up to the curb. I pushed the sleeves of the jacket up my forearms.It’s fine. It’s fine. He’s fine. It’s fine.

I slammed on the brakes as my mind acknowledged the little slipup I’d made.

When Ahmad opened the door, he gave me a look. “I texted Asia and then looked up to see you driving like you had a blindfold on. Let me find out you can’t drive.”

“Oh, you can walk,” I countered, rolling my eyes.

He climbed in my car, adjusting the front seat so his legs had room. “You’d force me to walk all the way home?” He put on his seat belt and then frowned. “Well, actually, it might be safer than riding with you.”

“Instead of worrying about my driving, worry about following the doctor’s orders. You’re already messing up.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said not to constrict the bandaged area.” I gestured to theshirt that showed off his impeccable body. “And you put your baby tee back on like it isn’t two sizes too small.”

The laugh he let out was deep, robust, and free. It filled the car with his energy, and I couldn’t help but smile.

I checked my mirrors before pulling out.

“Just keep your eyes on the road,” he commented.

When I glanced over at him, I saw the tension in his knuckles as he gripped the doorframe. Even though there was a smile on his face, I took his words seriously.

“I’m a safe driver,” I assured him softly.

I kept my hands at ten and two. I kept my eyes on the road. And I double-checked my blind spots. I drove better with him than I did on my driving test fourteen years prior. I didn’t realize until we were halfway home that it wasn’t just about me wanting to make sure we got there safely. I also just wanted to make sure he knew he was safe with me.

That thought made my stomach knot.

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