by Holly Rayner
The kiss was long, passionate, meaningful. I closed my eyes and felt his lips wrap tight around my bottom one as fireworks ignited in my head. I felt like the entire room was spinning, like I couldn’t get my bearings. The poetry book fell between us, and I felt his arms wrap tightly around me. Clinging to me. Holding my chest against his.
The kiss went on for a long time. I lost track of time, knowing only that we were making out, swallowing one another whole. When we finally drew back, blinking, we laughed slightly—both shocked at our sudden desire.
“Wow,” I whispered, biting my lip.
Rami swept his hand across my cheek, placing a strand of black hair behind my ear. He didn’t speak, though I desperately needed him to. I wanted him to tell me that the kiss meant something. But perhaps, in this case, silence was the poetry between us. We had body language, and that was all we needed.
I walked Rami to the door after that, eyeing the clock on the wall which showed that it was nearing midnight. Somehow, even without an expensive dinner or a designated “social outing,” Rami and I had spent more time together than any other evening. At the door, Rami leaned toward me and kissed me on the cheek, his breath hot. Then, he was suddenly gone.
Knowing that I could have remained on my doorstep pining after him for hours, I forced myself to turn back, to fall into bed. My heart beat quickly, rabbit-like against my ribcage. It was a long time before I fell asleep. When I did, I dreamed only of him.
Chapter 14
Angie
The date of the wedding was fast approaching, now only a week away. Rami had hired a wedding planner to arrange everything, an eagle-eyed Spanish woman named Maria. She was whip-smart and equally mean. When she first saw me, her eyebrows lowered as she assessed everything from my face to the size of my waist. Finally, she leaned back, nodding. “You’ll do just fine,” she said, as if I were some kind of actress, applying for the role of Rami’s wife. Of course, in some ways, I was.
I had my final dress fitting during my lunch break one afternoon. Maria and the seamstress met me at a boutique near to the school, where the seamstress carefully drew the white gown over my breasts, cinching it in place.
I gazed at myself in the mirror, shocked at the transformation. I no longer looked like the scrawny girl from South Dakota. Instead, I was wearing a couture gown stitched with diamonds and pearls. It had a low-cut bodice, with a layer of lace that stretched up toward my neck. It made me look regal, like I belonged in this world of riches and finery.
“It works, doesn’t it?” Maria said to the seamstress, sniffing. Again, she had the air of looking at me like an object rather than a person. “I’ll tell Rami straight away that we’ve finalized the gown. He’s been inquiring.”
The seamstress didn’t even look at me. Instead, she began to undress me, allowing me to step out of the dress. Hurriedly, I wrapped my body up in normal clothes once more and ducked out of the salon, feeling shaken. I was looking forward to the day the wedding was over. But I knew, deep down, that there was no returning to normalcy. Not now.
Since our night of poetry, three nights before, I’d seen Rami several times, but we hadn’t mentioned the kiss, or poetry, or anything we’d discussed. We’d kept a distance from one another, hardly able to look in each other’s eyes. I wondered at the connection between us. I wondered at the electricity that had seemed to come from his lips, onto mine. Had I imagined it?
Free from the seamstress and Maria, I lifted my phone, preparing to call Rami. We hardly ever spoke on the phone, instead sticking to a kind of schedule (when Rami thought we “should” see one another, for purposes of being seen). But as I wandered back toward the school, I waited, apprehensive, hopeful to hear his voice.
When he answered, he showed his surprise.
“Angie! Aren’t you supposed to be at your fitting?”
“It’s just finished,” I told him, eyeing the sidewalk beneath me. “It went well, I think. Although I have to be honest with you and tell you that I look like a giant wedding cake.”
Rami chortled. I loved when I could make him laugh. This was something new I’d realized. That having any kind of power over him gave me a sense of strength, and happiness.
“Ha. Well, I think that’s what you’re supposed to look like, based on all the weddings I’ve been to,” he joked. “You just heading back to school?”
“Another two hours of work, yep,” I told him. “The kids are getting out early tonight. What are you up to?”
Rami paused for a moment. I heard him muttering to someone on the other line—Alim, I assumed. “Actually, I’m heading out for a ride. Did I mention the royal stables?” he said finally.
My heart leapt in my chest. I hadn’t known Rami had any hobbies, and now they were springing up. Poetry, horseback riding… What else was this guy hiding?
“That’s surprising,” I told him.
“Why?” He sounded genuinely curious.
“No reason,” I said, shrugging. After a brief pause, I threw myself into it: “What if I came by? Watched you ride?”
Rami didn’t speak for a moment. As I walked into the intersection, three cars whizzed past me—alerting me that the lights were still green. I stepped back, hearing the honks echo through my brain. I felt embarrassed, knowing Rami heard it, too.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Oh, someone just tried to walk through traffic,” I said, lowering my eyebrows with the lie. “But they’re all right.”
“Idiots around this city, huh?” Rami laughed. “Anyway. Sure, I wouldn’t mind it if you came along. Although I have to warn you, I’m terribly good.”
There it was. Another surge of arrogance. But this time, it made my heart beat quicker, brighter. When I hung up the phone, I had a spring in my step, excited about seeing another facet of his world. I raced through the final hours of work, my eyes blurry, before saying goodbye to the students.
Rami sent me the address for the royal family’s expansive stables, which were located a few miles outside of the city. After donning a light summer dress, I hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address. Then, I leaned my head back and gazed at the sky, falling into a daydream. The clouds were fluffy and wild with the wind, breaking up and joining back together, like cotton candy. I was lost in them.
Suddenly, we were there. The car pulled up outside of the stables, depositing me on the gravel. I leafed through my wallet, feeling jittery—like I was taking a real risk, trying to dive deeper into Rami’s world. Even one week before the wedding, I knew very little about him. Would this give me what I was looking for?
I walked toward the stables, looking through the hallway tunnel that led toward the green fields on the other side. I saw Rami, standing in a crisp brown riding outfit. He was standing beside a golden horse, with a white and blond mane which it whipped through the wind. Rami stroked at the horse’s neck before spotting me on the other side of the barn. He lifted his hand and I waved back, feeling girlish and young.
As I walked toward the fenced-in area, Rami hopped onto the back of the horse, deftly controlling the reins. The horse began to trot around the arena, clopping in a smart fashion, showing that Rami was a seasoned horseback rider. That this was something he’d done for years; an art he’d truly mastered.
Finally, he rounded back, grinning down at me from his horse. The sun was behind him, and it glowed around his shoulders. For some reason, I lost all strength of my tongue. I had no idea what to say.
“Hello,” he said, his voice dominant and strong.
“Hi there,” I returned, laughing slightly. “You’re really good at this.”
“You haven’t even seen anything yet,” he said cockily.
“What do you mean?”
He pointed to the far end of the arena, where a series of obstacles were stationed. They were tall and sharp-looking, the stuff of nightmares for anyone who was unskilled on a horse. I stepped back, drawing my hands to my chin. “All right. Show me.”
With a powe
rful thrust forward, the horse raced toward the obstacles and then flew over them one after another, the horse’s body rippling with muscles beneath Rami.
I clapped from afar, growing more and more attracted to Rami’s prowess. As they moved away from the obstacles, I found myself clapping even louder, leaping up and down on my toes.
Rami circled his horse back toward me, giving me a bright smile. We were the only two people for miles around. And perhaps I was wrong, but I thought both of our hearts were filled with a sense of purpose, a promise. We were ecstatic: me, to be in his presence, and him, to show me what he could do.
“People don’t really know this side of you, do they?” I asked him as he leaped from the side of his horse, wrapping the reins around his hands.
“I don’t speak publicly about it. Like the poetry,” he said. “Maybe it’s just more special if no one knows.”
“I can appreciate that,” I said, my voice a whisper.
Silence fell between us as we gazed into one another’s eyes. I blinked several times, trying to reorient my thoughts. I surely had something interesting to say. Didn’t I? Somewhere, in the back of my brain…
“Hey, do you want to go for a ride?” he finally asked, his gaze hopeful.
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling suddenly put on the spot. “I haven’t ridden a horse since I was a little girl. And it’s not like I really knew what I was doing.”
“It’s okay. Lancelot is really good at taking on new riders,” he said, slipping from the side of the horse. He led the horse closer to the fence before hopping over and joining me on the grass. He looked me up and down—the summer dress, the sandals—and chuckled. “Although we’ll have to get you some proper gear.”
I followed him into the stables, where he opened a wide closet, filled with an array of riding shoes and other accessories. Trying to seem like I wasn’t absolutely losing my mind with excitement, I traced the items with my fingers and picked out the shoes I wanted, the outfit that would suit me.
Stepping into the side room, where the horse supplies and feed were stored, I dressed quickly, conscious of the fact that he would be thinking about me naked. Or at least, he would know how bare I was. Just on the other side of the door, while he waited.
Finally, I emerged, dressed in a brown riding suit that very nearly matched the one Rami wore. He looked at me approvingly, then put his arm around my shoulders, guiding me back toward the paddock. Lancelot was regal in the soft afternoon light, his saddle featuring intricate engravings. I brought my finger across the engravings, marveling at the fine stitching.
“I don’t even think my wedding dress is as fancy as this,” I told Rami.
“You might be right about that,” he chuckled. He placed his hands around my waist and lifted me into the saddle, where I dropped one leg on either side. All the way up there, I was miles away from the ground, watching as the yellowing grass waved side to side in the breeze.
“Strange to see so much grass,” I said, my voice soft. “After years of so much sand.”
“It’s certainly difficult to keep it green,” Rami said, sounding distracted. “Although it must remind you of home?”
“It does,” I whispered. “Open fields, plains.”
“Sounds gorgeous.”
“Maybe you’ll see it someday,” I said, sounding far away, even to myself.
“All right,” Rami said, calling me back to earth. “Do you want to give this a go?”
I gave him a sneaky smile, feeling a wave of energy fill my arms, my legs. My heart.
“Yes.”
Rami began to jog alongside me while I held the reins. He instructed me on how to tweak my stance on the horse, and how this would make Lancelot go faster, or canter, or stop.
“Many people think you need to kick the horse in the side to get him to do anything, but it’s simply not true,” he told me, a grin forming. It was clear this was another one of his secret passions. Something he loved to speak about, just as much as poetry. And maybe something he didn’t necessarily bring out in front of everyone.
“It seems so cruel to kick them,” I said, feeling my tone shift. “Is that really how some people train them?”
“Not here,” he said. “My father trained me this way, and his father trained him this way before that. Horses are some of the kindest, most compassionate animals in the world, and we treat them as they deserve to be treated. Lancelot’s been my main horse since I was eighteen. In ten years, we’ve been through a lot together.”
I tilted my head, my curiosity brimming. “And how many of your girlfriends have been out here to see you ride?”
“Girlfriends?” Rami said, scoffing. “Nobody’s ever been interested in coming out here, if I tell them about it at all.”
“You keep it from everyone,” I mused. “Interesting.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I murmured, leaning forward into Lancelot’s neck and allowing him to canter beneath me, jostling me back and forth. “I don’t know.”
I continued to ride for the next ten minutes, as Rami jogged along beside me, telling me about the horses he’d ridden as a child, about his competitions. About when he’d first landed one of the more difficult obstacles. “That was a day my father actually told me he was proud of me,” Rami said, chuckling. “It’s a rare thing.”
“Is it?” I asked him, curious to hear more about his relationship with his parents. But I sensed he wanted to drop the topic, as he waved his hand from side to side.
After a moment, Rami lifted his hands upward, gripping mine. He helped me slip down from Lancelot’s back. There was still that tension between us, sizzling from a few nights before. My lips ached to kiss him, but I drew back, wanting him to make the first move—hesitating as I stepped from the horse’s back. But as I swept toward Rami’s arms, I tripped, falling into the stirrup below.
I fell into Rami, lurching deep into his arms. He staggered back with the impact, laughing slightly. But as I stumbled, I brought my head back and made intense eye contact with him.
Rami lifted his thumb to my cheek, rubbing at the soft skin there. And before I knew it, our lips were connected. I felt his breath hot against mine, needing me. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, drawing him closer and closer. Our tongues began to wrap around one another, lightly at first, then becoming needier, more insistent.
Finally, I broke the kiss, needing a moment to breathe. I was surprised to blink into the orange sunset, watching as the sun ducked low in the darkening sky. Lancelot was prancing to the side of the fenced arena, leaving us to our kissing.
I drew my hand through Rami’s hair, feeling at the thick, soft strands. After a moment of intensity, we both began to chuckle, lost in one another’s eyes.
“I fell,” I whispered, kissing his nose.
“Was it an accident? Or just a way to get into my arms,” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“I’m not sure anymore,” I told him. “It doesn’t matter now, though, does it? This is where I want to be.”
After a long moment, he drew closer to me, then kissed me again—powerfully, taking charge with his tongue, his lips. This time, we couldn’t stop.
I brought my hands along his upper shoulders, squeezing at his muscles, his upper chest, knowing he was growing more and more sensual, more desiring of my body. I hadn’t been with a man, in that sense, in years.
He lifted me up, still kissing me, a movement that drove me crazy with need. I wanted to be seen by him. I wanted him to know me.
Finally, Rami began to walk us toward the barn, still carrying me. His hands cupped me, holding me tight, as we continued to explore each other’s mouths, necks, chins, cheeks. Everything about him smelled exactly right.
When we entered the barn, he carried me toward a side arena, stacked with bales of vibrant, yellow hay. Placing me to the side, he ripped out a blanket, drawing it over the hay. He gestured towards it, showing off his handiwork.
“It’s no high-e
nd mattress in a penthouse apartment,” he said, his eyes burning with desire, “but it’ll do, don’t you think?”
To answer, I rushed forward, leaping into him. He opened his arms to me, holding me tight. And slowly, passionately, we removed our clothes, tossing them on either side of the hay pile and then lying together, making love on the soft bed of hay.
It was the most beautiful night of my life. I couldn’t have imagined a more dutiful, more handsome lover. When we finally fell into one another, collapsing after the chaos of our lovemaking, he carried me into the shack beside the barn, cozying me beneath the sheets in a small bed. That night, we slept next to one another for the first time. And again, I felt a wave of desire wash over me. This was the world I wanted to build.
And yet, with the wedding approaching so quickly, I wasn’t sure I would have time to build a life that had legs. A life that could sustain us. It was all happening too fast.
Chapter 15
Angie
And suddenly, it was a week later. I was perched on my balcony, in the apartment where I’d lived alone for the past several months, sipping coffee and gazing at a book of poetry. For the first time in ages, I was unable to concentrate on the words—hearing only the fearful sputtering of thoughts in my mind. At five o’clock that evening, Rami and I were to be married. At five o’clock that evening, there would be no going back.
The past week had been a flurry of activity. The dress and guests had been finalized, the cake ordered, and the venue prepared. I’d been involved in almost none of it, and hadn’t even offered a single person as a guest. When Rita had asked me about this the previous day at school, I’d given her a shrug, feeling her judgement passing over me. She wanted to be invited to a royal affair, I knew, but I didn’t have the strength to involve her. I didn’t want to feel her burning eyes on my back.