Continued from part 4
When Ahmad saw me, he looked like he had seen a ghost.
“Kifak?” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.
I could tell he was out of words.
“It’s okay. We’ll talk after you put something on”, I said.
“Umm. No, come inside”, he said, pointing to his bedroom.
I thanked his mom for the tea and followed him inside.
I enter the room. It’s small and neat. A Black Sabbath poster on the wall. An old guitar laying on the floor.
I’m looking around the room, picturing the way he sleeps, imagining the way he stands in front of the mirror as he puts on his hair gel, visualizing the way he used to study on his desk. I wanted to know him. I wanted to stroke his curly hair as he fell to sleep. I wanted to wake up next to him and cuddle in the morning.
As I’m looking at the bed, I hear the door getting shut. I turn around to find Ahmad leaning against the door.
“What are you doing here?”, he asks.
“Look at you. You’re shivering. Get dressed”, I reply, looking around for a shirt he could put on.
“Why did you come here?”.
“I wanted to see you. I wanted to know why you aren’t answering my calls”.
“Maybe I don’t want to answer”.
“Then end it. End us. Don’t run away. Don’t be a coward”.
“I’m not a coward. I just…”.
“Then what is it? I thought our date went well. I thought you had a good time with me”.
“I didn’t. Listen… I don’t like you, okay?”.
“Bullshit. I saw the way you were looking at me”.
“It doesn’t mean shit! Now please, just…”.
“And what’s up with your mom? You told me she didn’t know you were gay”.
“Then why did she refer to you as sick?”
He doesn’t say anything back. His eyes were mixed with anger and tears.
He locks the door behind him, and slowly starts to approach me. I stay still, standing next to the bed.
My heart’s on overdrive. He keeps on walking towards me until we’re both standing opposite each other and there’s no place for him to walk but right through me.
We’re face to face. Eye to eye. Breath to breath. I had never been more confused in my life. I didn’t know whether he was going to hit me, kiss me, or both.
He raises his arm, and puts his shivering palm gently on my neck. His breaths are now faster and louder than before. With the palm of his right hand on my neck, he brings his head closer to mine, and kisses the other side of my neck.
I let out a heavy moan, a sigh of relief. He doesn’t hate me. He likes me. He likes me very much.
I move my head to try to kiss him but he turns his face away and pushes me onto his bed. He takes off his towel, and forces himself on top of me.
He starts kissing my neck again.
It felt so good.
He tears my shirt wide open and starts kissing my tummy. He trails his tongue from my stomach all the way up to my chest, breathing all over me. I wanted him inside of me.
As much as it felt good, something still didn’t feel right. I try to grab his head with my two hands, and said: “Look at me”.
He doesn’t respond. He keeps on kissing my chest, touching my crotch…
I say it louder: “Ahmad! Look at me!”
He stops kissing my torso, looks at me, and starts crying.
I swear it was the first time that boy had ever cried in his life.
“Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay habibi”, I comfort him.
He layed on top of me for a minute or two. Naked. Wet. Crying on my chest.
Then as his crying lessens, he says: “Walid. I didn’t want to get attached to you, because I know we can’t be together”.
“And why is that?”, I ask him. “What on earth would make you think that?”
“I’m just not the boy for you. It’s better if you found someone else”, he says.
“Don’t say that. You’re all I want in a guy. You’re perfect.”
“No… I’m not”, he moves away from me and sits on the side of the bed. “Just leave, Walid”.
I slowly get out of bed, and ask him: “Ahmad, are you sure you want me to walk out that door and never see you again?”
“I’m positive”, he answers.
Disappointed, I start buttoning up my shirt, turn away, and head to the door.
“Walid”, he continues. “Please understand me. I am positive.”
Read Part 6 HERE
ps: “Let Me In” is a fictional story