Rasheed knew how important the Najmat Sawda competition was for his sister. How could he help her?
He rubbed his chin. “You know what, Aisha? Tonight after the practice, we’ll brainstorm together.”
Aisha sighed. “Are you sure you’ll make it? We need a percussionist for the girls to train with. If you speak to Rose, you might be late. Should I maybe call Thalal to fill in for you?”
“No, I’ll be there.” Rasheed said the words before allowing his brain to decide differently.
He needed a commitment to ensure he kept the time dedicated to Rose Wilson in check. It was the first time he would speak to her privately. Knowing that his sister was waiting for him would give him more motivation to be short in his exchange with Rose.
“Fine, then see you tonight.” His sister hung up.
Rasheed’s eyes flicked back to Rose’s assignment. His glance focused on one phrase in particular.
The greater a longing, the harder the punishment if we deny it.
As if Rose had spoken from his own soul. What could the girl have been thinking about when she wrote those words? Rasheed itched to know.
Would it be too dangerous for him to find out? He probably shouldn’t try. He pressed his lips then nodded. No, he wasn’t going to. He marked Rose’s paper with an A and moved it to the completed pile.
Chapter 3
Rose moved to the edge of her seat, each fiber of her body alert and listening.
Rasheed was analyzing a poem with them, trying to show that, in order to discern its meaning, they shouldn’t be focused on the writer’s original intent but on the feelings the words unleashed in them.
He gesticulated with ample movements, and his eyes sparkled as he walked back and forth in the lecture hall. He looked like an Egyptian god descended to live among the humble humans. All eyes, especially those of the females, were drawn to his tall figure.
Emily shifted closer to Rose and whispered, “I’m quite confident that the sensation his voice is releasing in me is not what the prof intended, but it’s still very fine.” Her last words were muffled by a giggle.
Rose threw a side-glance at her. Emily’s catlike eyes, artfully enhanced with a dark kohl, glistened mischievously.
Rose rolled her eyes. “Emms, I don’t think that’s what his speech was referring to.”
Emily pouted. “Maybe, but I’m really all tingles. Why do we have the hottest teacher? It’s painful to stare at him and then have to settle for those immature jerks from our school, don’t you think?”
Rose understood Emily’s complaints more than she cared to admit. But instead of agreeing, Rose turned her attention back to the podium and said, “Rules are rules. Teachers can’t date students. I’m sure that Malik would be offended if he heard you speak like this.”
The mention of Emily’s boyfriend had the desired effect. Her friend shrugged. “Fine, Malik is an exception. But that’s because he’s half Arabic and grew up here. All the others in our school are daddy’s boys, accustomed to being rich and dumb.”
Before Rose could answer, Rasheed’s voice interrupted them.
“Ms. Wilson and Ms. Travis. Would you mind standing up and sharing with the class the important discussion you’re having?”
Rose felt her knees go too weak to support her weight, so she pressed her palms on the table in front of her as she straightened from her seat.
Emily was already up. She put a hand on her hip. “Excuse us, Professor Rasheed. We were just discussing how unsettling it is that the state of bliss described by this poet cannot be achieved nowadays.”
Rasheed drew his brows together. “Would you care to elaborate further, Miss Travis?”
Emily flashed a cheeky smirk at him. “Certainly, Professor Rasheed. The poet speaks about falling in love. We think it’s almost impossible to find such a deep everlasting connection in our current society. With the guys we have at our disposal and all.” Emily waved her hand around the lecture hall.
The girls began to giggle while the few guys in their class started to complain.
Rasheed raised his index finger. “Silence, please. Miss Travis is entitled to her opinion.”
Emily shook her head. “It’s not just my belief. Rose thinks the same.”
Rasheed’s eyes, which had been fixed on Emily, slowly drifted to Rose.
Rose’s breath caught and her cheeks became hot. Never before had she felt the intensity of his gaze focused solely on her. His charcoal eyes seemed to burn a hole into her chest, exposing her thumping heart for everyone to see.
Rose lowered a hand and pinched her friend’s thigh. Emily stifled a cry, and it made Rose feel somewhat better. Why did Emily have to bring them into such an embarrassing situation?
Emily was part of the theater group, and spotlight was her middle name. But Rose preferred to keep to herself and not voice her own ideas in the classroom.
Rose wondered sometimes how come she and Emily got along so well when they couldn’t be more different. But somehow Rose’s pensive and timid ways resonated with her friend’s loud but cheerful manner. Just like peanut butter and pickles. One would think they’d be gross together but they actually tasted amazing.
Rasheed cocked his head to the side. “Is it true, Miss Wilson? Are you also convinced that true love can’t exist today?” His voice was velvety, and there was a strange, thrilling undertone to it.
Or was it just Rose’s wishful thinking that he was throwing a particular challenge at her?
It had to be. Why would Rasheed treat her differently than Emily? Beside Emily’s flawless porcelain skin, Rose’s creamy complexion must look dull and uninteresting.
Rose swallowed twice, deciding on the best way to answer. “I guess it depends on your definition of true love, Professor Rasheed.”
His mouth opened into a small circle. “Ah, yes? How many definitions are there?”
Rose’s heart leaped. No, she wasn’t mistaken. The way Rasheed had addressed her was different than he had done with Emily. His voice was softer but also more provoking. He looked at her without blinking, as if there was nobody else in the classroom but Rose.
She drummed her hand softly on the table. She needed to choose her answer carefully. Her words should represent the person she was inside, even if her looks were lacking. “As many as we are, we all interpret love differently.”
A hint of a smile played on Rasheed’s lower lip. “Interesting. And what is your definition of true love, Miss Wilson?”
Rose grabbed at her chest, her eyes widening. Her definition? Wasn’t this discussion all about poetry and general statements?
Did Rasheed want to know what Rose believed about love?
Her neck started to throb and she had to stop herself from blurting out the definition that came to her mind instinctively.
The way I could feel about you if you continued staring at me like this.
No, saying this out loud would be the biggest mistake she could ever make. She pressed her lips together, trying to formulate into generic words the very specific feeling coursing through her veins.
“I guess true love makes you dream of becoming a better person, and then actually gives you a chance of accomplishing it as you strive to make the person you love happy.”
Emily turned and gave her a weird look.
Her fellow students also gaped, and for a moment, there was silence in the room.
Rasheed stared at Rose for a second then he clapped his hands. “Very well, Miss Wilson. Thank you for sharing it with us.” Then he pointed at Emily and her. “You two can sit down now.”
Rose and Emily slouched back onto their seats.
Rasheed walked to the middle of the podium, rubbing his palms together. “The comments of your fellow students, Miss Travis and Miss Wilson, are actually a fabulous preparation for the news I was saving until the end of our class.”
Emily grabbed Rose’s shoulder. “What news is he talking about?”
“No idea, but let’s listen,” she wh
ispered back, trying to move her lips as little as possible. Rasheed’s dazzling gaze wasn’t on them anymore, but Rose had no intention of being caught gossiping again in class.
Rasheed opened his arms, and his shoulders flexed backwards making him look taller than he was. “The theme of this year’s LeGrand scholarship has finally been announced.”
Rose’s throat swelled. How could she forget that today was the day? She inched forward on her chair, while her neck muscles tightened.
Rasheed scanned their faces. “Now that I got you all curious, I might just reveal it. This year’s topic is Raw Love.”
Raw Love?
Rose wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Last year the competing students had to compare the works of Hemingway and Paul Austin. What did this year’s assignment even mean?
Some of the other students exchanged questioning looks and murmured, so Rasheed hurried to clarify. “All participants are challenged to submit a novella of at least twenty thousand words about this central theme. It’s a creative writing exercise and can be steered toward any genre, as long as it deals with the central element of love. You’ll need to communicate to me your wish to take part in the competition by the end of the week.” He clapped his hands. “Thank you, that’s all for today.”
He stepped over to the table on the left side of the projector and sat down.
The students stood up and began to pack their things. Rasheed’s was the last class of the day, so most people took their time gathering their belongings.
Rose stayed in her seat and let Rasheed’s last words sink in. The LeGrand scholarship. She’d toyed with the idea of applying ever since she’d started her last year of undergraduate studies in literature.
Now, however, it wasn’t going to happen. Why couldn’t they pick a topic like last year’s? Rose would have nailed that, surely.
But Raw Love? She had nothing to contribute on that front. All her experiences about love were pure conjectures or based on books and movies. No, writing about the most powerful emotion of humankind was out of her reach.
Emily poked her between her ribs. “Rose, are you coming or what? I need to get to the restroom fast. Drinking this detox tea is superb for my skin, but makes me want to pee constantly.”
Rose peered up at her friend. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you at the bus stop.”
Emily frowned. “I’m sorry. Malik is picking me up today. Is it okay?”
Rose nodded. “Sure, don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”
Emily winked. “You betcha. See you, love.” She sashayed toward the exit, her red locks shining like a fiery halo around her head.
Rose glanced back at her book and with a sigh, she closed it. She staggered to her feet and reached for her earphones. With Emily gone, she felt exposed in the lecture hall.
Rose arranged her books in the bag, letting her discontent melt away in the magical rhythms of her favorite songs.
She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Who could it be? Probably one of her fellow students asking for her notes on the lecture. It seemed to be the only reason they approached her outside of class. She whirled around, lifting her booklet in her hand.
However, as she took in the luminescent, dark eyes staring at her, her bones turned to jelly. What was Rasheed doing up here in her row?
She stood there gaping at him, unable to move or talk.
Rasheed reached up and pulled out one of the earphones. He stuck it into his own ear, and his eyebrows shot up. “Are you listening to Arabic music?”
Rose nodded. “Yes, I like this music a lot. Not really the modern pop songs you usually hear on the radio, but these folk songs make my heart beat faster for some reason.”
Rasheed’s eyes widened.
Oh, Almighty. The delicate web of grey lines in his black irises became more evident. Rose bit her inner lip to stifle a groan.
She should have done better to avoid standing this close to him. Her body wasn’t reacting well to his proximity.
“Do you know, Rose, that I play this exact kind of music for my sister’s students?” he asked.
No, Rose didn’t know it. How would she? It was news for her that Rasheed even remembered her name.
“No, Professor Rasheed, I didn’t.” Why was her voice trembling and husky? She might as well just stamp it on her chest that she was head over heels about her teacher.
He smiled. “Just Rasheed, please. When we are just casually chatting outside of class, there’s no need for you to call me professor. After all, I’m not much older than you are.”
Rose’s stomach hardened. Did she hear him correctly? Casually chatting? Since when was Rasheed acknowledging her presence outside of the classroom at all?
She switched the music off and pulled her left earphone out of her ear. Ah, that was better. Without the immersive melody, maybe her brain would stop trying to turn this situation into something it wasn’t.
Rasheed handed back the other earphone.
When his fingers brushed hers, a violent thrill skittered across her skin. She withdrew her hand and stuffed the earphones in her backpack.
“Did you want something from me Prof…um… Rasheed? May I help you with anything?”
Rasheed didn’t answer. His lips parted but he pressed them together again. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I feel a little weird talking to you like this. I mean… you know… stopping you after class and all. Am I delaying you? Don’t you have to hurry to meet your brother and sister?”
Rose’s brows arched.
He felt weird? He did sound embarrassed. His usual confidence and charisma was gone. Did Rose’s presence make him flustered? No, that surely wasn’t possible. Rose was just his student. Nothing more.
But then how the heck did Rasheed know about Stacey and Elliot? They weren’t taking classes in this department.
She shook her head. “On Mondays I take the bus home.”
Rasheed’s face relaxed. “Good. Do you live in the Quar-Elm district?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
Rasheed flashed a warm smile. “Most students of this university do. It’s the area for the expats, isn’t it?” His eyes crinkled as his cheeks moved upwards, lending him the expression of a watchful wolf.
Or maybe a panther? Some kind of predator, for sure.
Rose’s blood was throbbing in her neck. Could he perceive the pulsations? His glance did dip below her jawline and his pupils dilated slightly, but then he lifted his eyes immediately.
Rose nodded. “Yes, that’s the one. Where do you live?”
The question was out before she could stop herself. How could she allow herself to forget where she was or who she was talking to? Even if Rasheed could ask her such questions, she wasn’t entitled to request the same information from him.
Rasheed didn’t seem to mind her curiosity. “Over at the Lahatra complex. That’s where my sister opened her school, so we moved nearby.”
“Does your sister teach music?”
Seriously, she needed to stop. Now she was inquiring about his family.
Rasheed shook his head. “No, she teaches belly dance. I’ve been playing the dumbek since I was a kid. So when I have the time I come over and provide live music to her students to practice to.”
“The dumbaak?”
Rasheed chuckled. “Dumbek. Yes. It’s basically a goblet-shaped drum. Remember the beats in the song you just listened to? Those come from the dumbek.” He reached out and brushed Rose’s ear with his thumb.
Heat pooled in her where he touched her earlobe and it vibrated through her nape. It curled down her spine making her insides clench.
She took a quick step back, clearing her throat. “Ah, I see. “ She dropped her glance and traced the pattern of the floor’s mosaic.
Rasheed sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you with my touch.”
She peeked up at him. He watched her with a worried expression.
“Um, no, you didn’t. I’m
just ticklish that’s all.” Her lie didn’t sound believable even to her own ears.
Rasheed’s lips curled up. “Next time I’ll pay attention to that.”
Rose’s heart’s began to race. Next time? Did he mean there would be a future occasion for them to speak like this? Alone?
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Rasheed’s breath hitched as he watched a pink color invade Rose’s cheeks. She looked adorable. Still, a pang of guilt snaked through his heart that he’d made her feel uncomfortable.
He should really keep a better command of his hands. They had seemed to acquire a life of their own as he stood close to Rose. It was as if her skin exercised a magnetic pull on his, and he had to fight the urge to caress her cheeks.
How could his emotions for this girl be so intense, even though it was the first time he actually spoke to her one-on-one?
That was the funny thing with written words. If you read enough from someone’s writing, you get the feeling that you know the other person. But do you really? Could Rose be a far different person in life than the one she let transpire on paper?
The way she spoke about true love in class came back to him, and his stomach stirred. No, there was a strong chance that Rose was as deep and lovable as he assumed. He glanced at the girl again and noticed to his abashment that she was looking at him.
Right, it was his turn to say something. To justify why he’d bothered her in the first place.
He inhaled. “Anyways, I stopped you today because I wanted to ask what you thought about the topic of the LeGrand…”
Rose’s head jerked back. “What I thought of it? Nothing. I mean, it’s a nice theme to write about.”
Rasheed’s palms became moist. “Does it mean you’ll apply for it?”
Rose lowered her glance and shrugged. “No, I won’t.”
Relief flooded through Rasheed. If Rose decided against it, she would stay for the next year in the school. He’d be able to see her every day and admire her kind spirit and wonderful soul through her writing.
After his first reaction, he managed to get a grip of himself. He shouldn’t leave this question unexplored. He was Rose’s teacher and he knew she had the kind of talent that would make her an ideal candidate for the scholarship.
A Lesson in Love: A sweet forbidden love story Page 2